Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I just finished my goal of reading through the entire Bible! Wow. Revelations was tough. It is certainly not for the faint of heart and maybe not for those who don’t have a relationship with God. It’s some crazy stuff. But it’s good. And reading through that book specifically causes much joy at the last couple of chapters as the people say “Hallelujah” over His victory!
However, as I read it, I was drawn more and more into thoughts of Heaven. With you being there, it’s already close at heart, yet now I’ve read about it. Descriptions I want to see for myself. I’m just so tired of this world lately. When you died, I was brought into the reality of us not being of this world. This is not my home and this messed up world is not what we were created for. I want to go home. There’s a strong yearning in my heart and soul for Heaven and seeing my Maker and Savior that is just barely equally countered by the knowledge that my purpose on this messed up world isn’t finished yet. I’ve barely just begun my service. Like I told you in my other letter, God is going to use me in big ways and it’s scary because I know He can. Literally anything and everything is possible for Him, including using my own flawed life for His glory. And He wants to use me, despite the mistakes I’ve made (because whatever perfect person others may think I am, you know, and certainly God knows, all of the bad decisions I’ve made and sin I’ve lived in for so long).
It’s so beautiful the love He has for me. I cannot comprehend it. Psalm 139 has become one of my favorite passages. It’s just so wonderful to think that there is nowhere I can be that He cannot or would not reach me. And that He loved me and made me and continues to love me even knowing that I would sin against Him as I have and will (though I try my best not to).
Coming that much closer to His love has made me a new person already. My struggle in sin has lessened where it is no longer my go to source of comfort–rather I allow myself to feel things, crying when I need to, talking, singing, writing, reading (particularly my Bible of late). I have not reached the point where I have screamed quite yet. That is an odd feeling when I want to but I’m scared of my own self. That if I scream, even while alone it will be too loud. Which is stupid because if I’m alone, nothing is too loud since no one will hear it.
I had another dream of you about a week and a half ago. It was the last night I spent at our friends’ house. I slept on a mattress on the floor and I was like that during the dream: lying there, tossing and turning as I tried to fall asleep. Then you were there sitting next to me on the floor but I couldn’t quite see you clearly because it was dark. You took hold of my hand and that stopped my tossing about, yet sleep still wouldn’t come. I didn’t feel the comfort and peace I needed for my head to stop hurting and my eyelids to relax against my eyes. Then God was there. A bigger presence, wrapping around me somehow. I heard Him tell you to let go of my hand. That He had me. And you did disappearing into the darkness, and He took my hand in His. Immediate peace and satisfaction flowed through me, relaxing my body on the small mattress and allowing me the uneventful, restful sleep of darkness.
I don’t exactly know if the dream was supposed to mean something like I won’t be dreaming of you anymore or you will fade from my memory because I hope neither happens. Even if I can’t have a real conversation with you until I get to Heaven, I hope God might allow a vivid dream or two to help keep my memory of you as my mom alive.
The one thing the dream did reinforce was the peace in knowing that at the end of the day (in that case, literally) all I need is God, and while you may have shown Him to me and helped me find Him for myself, He is all I need. While I’ll always want my mother to be there for the big life-moments, I’ll still be okay through them, because I have the one thing I need, and that’s something you lived out in your life as well: a relationship with the Maker and Sustainer of all. I love you!

Your daughter,
Hannah