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“Do you think I will ever stop caring how I look?”

Juggling a stack of clothes in my arms, I said, “Well, I certainly hope not.”

My then almost-ninety-year-old mom posed her question while we were shopping. Although she was a shop-until-you-drop kind of person, I’d rather clean toilets than venture out to the local shops and malls. However, going with Mom turned my misery into moments to remember.

That day, like most, Mom roamed every aisle, circled every display, and then beelined for the clearance racks. As she hunted, she sprinkled her conversation with tidbits of news about friends and relatives, philosophy (though she would never call it that), and faith.

Along the way, she frequently ran into people she knew. As usual, her inquiries included, “How are you?” “How’s your mom (or dad)?” “How old are your kids now?” and her favorite, “When are you coming to see me?” She also wanted to know what was new in their lives since the last time she saw them. Before they parted, she gave them a pat or a hug and reminded them, “I love you, and I’m praying for you.” More than Mom wanted her lipstick fresh and her hair in place, she wanted others to see and know the Savior she served.

No longer up to full days, Mom eventually wore down, but not before I started dragging. She put me under every time.

I headed home after we unloaded our day’s haul and admired everything one last time before Mom put them away. As I drove, I rolled her question around in my mind once more. Did I think Mom would ever quit caring how she looked? Picturing her holding a cute dress under her chin, striking a model’s pose, and stifling a giggle made me love her spunk all the more. No way, Mom. Don’t ever change. In appearance, attitude, and actions, you are looking good.

Until Mom died a little past her ninety-first birthday, she wanted to look good, physically and spiritually. And she did.

Think of ways to leave behind a legacy of fun and faith.