Mother’s Day {When Your Mom Isn’t Here}

**Fair warning:  I couldn’t make it through writing this post without some tears, so this is your chance to walk (or run) away if you don’t feel like getting misty today!**

This is for those of you who will wear a white carnation today, instead of a red one.

First, I’d like to wish all of you who are mothers a very Happy Mother’s Day.  What an amazing, excruciating, wonderful, exhausting job!  I wouldn’t trade my kids for the world, but there are a lot of days when you can take my job (mothering) and shove it!  I salute each and every one of you, from one battle buddy to another.

 

Of course, we all have mothers, too, and this day is also about them.  But that’s not always as simple as it sounds, is it?  For some of us, Mother’s Day is a double-edged sword.  Some of us have mothers who probably shouldn’t have been allowed to have children.  I’m so sorry if your mother was one of them, because it can take a lifetime to recover from that kind of childhood.  Some of us have mothers from whom we’re presently estranged.  If that’s you, then I hope that you can work out your differences and reconcile some day, but I also know that doesn’t always happen this side of heaven.  And some of you are like me–my mom died almost eleven years ago, and so while Mother’s Day always fills me with joy and gratitude when I look at my children, I also feel an aching sadness when I think of my mother (Yes, still.  I probably always will!).  If that’s you, too, then just know that you are not alone today.

 

 

One of my mom’s favorite movies was Shadowlands, which was about C.S. Lewis (one of her favorite authors, and mine, too) and the love story between him and his wife, Joy Davidman.  In the movie, she tells him, “The pain now is part of the happiness then.”   I think that perfectly describes how we feel when we’ve lost someone we deeply love.

 

 

There is some comfort.  If you are orphaned (it doesn’t matter if you’re a grown up or a child), God promises you that He will be a father to the fatherless (Psalm 68:5).  He also sets the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6), and since I’m an only child, I’ve learned that many times that “family” is one that is not bound by blood, but by friendship (like my friendship with Amy).  I’ve also been so fortunate to have two wonderful, Godly women take me under their wings and into their hearts–my Aunt Diane and my dear friend, Becky.  They are my Titus 2 friends and surrogate mothers, and they have adopted me, my husband, and my children as their own.  I take comfort that although the family I was born into no longer exists, I am still surrounded by those I love.  I wish you that, too!

 

 

My mom’s birthday is in May, as is the day that she died.  Right in between those two is today–Mother’s Day–and a lot of times that makes May a month I would like to ignore altogether.  But this year, in honor of my mother, I thought that I’d share with you the words I wrote as her eulogy, because even though she’s been gone for quite a few years, her life and legacy continue to shape me and others who loved her, and I know that she is a shining example of a life well-lived.

 

***

May 2002

Family and Friends:

I sit here and try to think of a way to do justice to my mother, who was so unique and extraordinary, and I know that I can never write anything that will communicate just how wonderful she was.  But, I also know that all of you who sit here, sharing our joy and our grief, don’t need my words to tell you the things that my mother showed you through the living of her life. 

My mother was so many things, all of them remarkable.  I am so thankful that God let me be her daughter and let me have thirty years of knowing and loving her.  I selfishly wish that we could have had many more years together and that she could have watched her grandson grow up, but I take so much strength and comfort in the fact that she is watching him–and the rest of us–from the Lord’s side in heaven.

Mom’s relationship with God was the most meaningful thing in her life, and she took enormous comfort from His promises in Scripture.  She spent time every day reading her Bible and praying, and it seemed like Mom had a “direct line” to God’s ear.  It became a family joke that if we really wanted God to answer a prayer, we should have Mom pray for us.  I believe that God honored Mom’s faithfulness to Him by answering her prayer that she would die quickly and without having to fight a long battle with cancer.

My mother was a lovely person on the inside, where it matters most, and she never forgot that inner beauty is far more significant than the other shell.  My mother was gracious, cheerful, and kind, and always the first to laugh at herself.  She remembered people’s names, and birthdays, and favorite colors, and worked hard to keep in touch with her loved ones.  Not a week passed that I didn’t receive a letter or note from her, and we talked on the phone every day.  I know that she was just as diligent in communicating with her other friends and family.  She was my best friend, but I know that there are many others here who considered her their best friend, too.  I can’t think of a more meaningful tribute to the person that she was.

Mom was a beautiful person on the outside, too, and always took care to present a polished exterior to the world (although she did wonder just last week whether she was using her remaining time wisely by continuing to floss her teeth every night).  She was a good steward of the body God had given her and tried to keep it healthy and fit.  She enjoyed clothes, shoes, and jewelry, and the more colorful and cheerful the better.  I guess I’m more like her than I knew–I had to buy shoes to wear for this service since I didn’t have any with me, and I found myself leaving the store with two pairs instead of one.  Stephanie was with me and bought a pair, too.  We had a laugh and figured that Mom would appreciate that even in the darkest of times, you have to put your best foot forward.  

My mother cherished her marriage to Dad and her role as his wife.  My mom and dad have been married for thirty-two years, and their love only deepened and grew stronger as the years went on.  Their utter devotion to God and to each other over the past few weeks is something I will never forget.  Dad’s love for her is so selfless that he rejoices in her freedom and victory over pain and death, even as he faces the loneliness of her absence.  Thank you, Mom and Dad, for showing Chris and me what a marriage can and should be.

I know, too, that my mother loved me more than anything in this world, and that watching Connor and being his grandmother gave her immeasurable joy.  We were together the last few weeks and as always, my mother gave me the strength to face anything, even the unthinkable sadness of her death.  As Chris and I face the challenging task of raising Connor, I have fresh respect for the wonderful example she set for me.

Mom talked a lot about her mother’s death almost seven years ago.  I know that a day didn’t go by without her missing her mother.  She told me that even after so many years, she still thought about Grandma and talked to her every day.  I’m so happy to know that my mom is with Grandma because that, and seeing the Lord, were the two things that made her accept and even anticipate her own death.  I realize now that she was continuing to teach me through her own example.

Mom, thank you for being my mother.  I love you more than I can express, and I will miss you almost more than I can bear, but I have your example to follow, and I will rejoice in and look forward to the fact that our reunion is inevitable.

***

Thank you for letting me share my mom with you–I know you might have been expecting something much lighter (maybe a recipe or a room redo?!) and I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you.  I love to talk about her, though, because it keeps her alive in my memory, and helps my children to know her, as well as they ever can, by hearing about her.  So if you’re missing your mom today, just know that you’re not alone–and I’m sending {{love}} and prayers your way.

Thanks for stopping by.