Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I’m in the process of finally growing up. Of recognizing the numerous blessings the LORD has provided — including the opportunity to dream big. Big for me, that is. Because I’m not an ambitious person. (So it doesn’t take much to dream big — simply having a dream is “big” enough.) But, I believe that’s the heart of His challenge — to see that coasting through life with fake contentment because I haven’t tried is not godly. I wrote recently regarding this fear I’ve allowed myself to be shackled by. In a life of many freedoms, I’ve allowed myself to be a slave to fear. How cliche. But, it’s true.

Anyway, I’ve decided to (actually) try freelance. All in the realm of writing (from producing content to the revision of that content). And it’s felt a bit overwhelming, though I do have a (perhaps minimal) plan in place and strategy in mind. One of the first things on my to-do list is crafting the content for my own promotional website.

It reminded me of the many times you helped me with my own content production. One of the most recent memories was when I had that report for Oliver Twist due and I could not decide which character(s) to write about because I was not compelled by any of them. (Needless to say, not my favorite book.) You were sitting on the couch in the living room and I came down in a (rather dramatic) huff of frustration. “Mom–” I said– “I don’t know what to do. I don’t like any of these characters!” You looked at me, and even then I could recognize the amused expression on your face. That did not deter me, though. You were always my brainstorming backboard. “Can you just sit and listen for a minute while I talk this out?” Of course you agreed to. And, a little (okay, a lot) of Oliver Twist word vomit later, and a couple of well-placed questions from you (always going above and beyond, eh Mom?) later, I had a workable topic. To this day I still feel a little thrill of inspiration from that moment.

But, that was just one of many times you were that “brainstorming backboard” for me. Ever since even the fourth grade — my first year in public school — when I would turn in stories “written orally” (as you would sign on the side of my sheets) because I couldn’t write fast enough for my thoughts. Apparently I just needed a computer? Look at me go, Mom. I remember those days, sitting on your bed more often than not, having spent so much time wasted in anxiety, feeling overwhelmed by the hundreds of ideas bouncing off the walls of my mind and each other. I needed an external anchor to pause, to process, to produce.

And now all of that external processing has led to this. A blog. And perhaps the dream of sharing my story and aiding someone else in process.

Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d have a moment, relive a fond memory, acknowledge that I wish you were here to bounce those ideas off of and anchor them down again. Guess Dad will have to do. (And don’t worry, Mom, he does quite well.) Much love always,

Your daughter,
Hannah