What a long month this has been I started out at the Great Wolf Lodge with some awesome friends, and ended the month stuck in Knoxville, Tennessee at an airport hotel nervous I wouldn't make it home for an important day in my 7-year-olds life. I did end up making it home, and my second-grader shined during her special night. When January started, as I chatted with my mom about the fun we were having in Washington, I never imagined I would end the month without her, unable to chat about life's mundane happenings. Yes, 2 weeks ago I lost my mom. She passed away suddenly of heart disease. I miss desperately the phone calls we shared daily, as she lived on the other side of the country. Yesterday, driving to the store, I blasted the radio to take my mind off of the fact that I almost always called her in the car while driving to the store, just to say hi, just to see how life was going that day. We would talk about the littlest things in life, and I loved it. I hated that my mother was so far away physically, but I loved that technology allowed me the opportunity to chat with her almost whenever I wanted. Our conversations were rarely exciting, but they kept me afloat. If I was having a bad day, a chat with her could make all things seem better. Now, well, that part of my life is gone.
I know God has great plans for us; I know his plans are much greater than my own. I pray daily that those plans will be revealed, and that we will learn from life's hard times.
My mother understood me as a child. By the time I was in 3rd grade and the teacher was concerned that I was obsessed with death due to my poetry, my mother was not worried. We had seen so much as a family already including the deaths of family members we held so close. She was not worried because my poetry was not about the sadness of losing someone. In my childlike innocence I wrote a poem about the lessons God will teach each of us after we get relief from the grief. At all of 7, maybe 8 years old, I wrote of the power of God to teach us from our difficulties. And my mom had that poem on our fridge year after year, move after move, after move. Not only as a reminder of me, but as a reminder that God does not make mistakes. There are reasons; there are lessons.
As Jesus spoke in parables, let my mother's passing be a story for you to remember. Let her life remind you of God's strength and love for his children. My mother never wanted sympathy for any struggle she endured. No, she wanted neither sympathy nor empathy. She did not want anyone to feel sorry for her nor feel the pain he felt at times. Instead, she would want people to feel the peace she felt as she handed those burdens to God. As he lifted them from her shoulders and calmed her spirit.
There are too many cherished memories that I could share right now. A treasure trove of moments that I pray will forever be imprinted on my heart. I learned so much from my mother. To stop and "breathe", to take time to savor every moment. To let go and let God. That it is ok to question even my faith because through questions we find answers.
I could go on and on and on here, but want to make sure you know that no matter how brief a time you had with my mother, if you knew her, she loved you deeply. Her love and the abundance of it will always be with it.
I love you mommy,
Love,
Your Baby Girl
