Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I had a mission trip this past week. A team of eleven of my church family traveled to Puerto Rico where we were the final of over 30 teams to build a new home for a single mother. Our part consisted of sealing the entire home. Each crack had to be filled and sanded in preparation for then painting sealant over the wood. The last day we cleaned inside and out — finishing the outside with a bit of yard work. (In spite of actually wearing sunscreen — I know you’d be proud — I still managed to get sunburned. But most of it is already going to a nice tan, so I’m happy to grin and bear it.)

The work was simple, yet vital. For if the wood was not sealed, in their wet atmosphere and weather, the home freshly built would become quickly as bad as before. Of course, I made a joke or two in the process, punning on the “sealing” process. One of them referenced our own sealing that we have. Our being sealed by the Spirit. 

It’s one of the most amazing things to me. And with equal gratitude for the cross, the fact that the Holy Spirit seals me for His Kingdom also sets the firm foundation of my peace, my joy. I have so many days of doubt. Not in His existence, His goodness, His faithfulness, His sovereignty — no, I doubt my part in it.

It’s wild, Mom. I have such moments of rebellion in my heart, body, strength, perhaps even soul. But, He stays. He reminds me, not of what I should be doing, per se, but simply of His presence. Not in some fantastic, exuberant way — just, the simple facts that He’s real. He’s here. He died for me and no amount of my own erratic emotions will change that. His Spirit is within me. Of course, my inner chaos does not excuse disobedience, or the root of evil to dwell in my heart. And that is where I know He lives! I know His Spirit remains as His faithful, wonderful deposit within me! Because even as He reminds me of His presence, He guides me back to His path of righteousness — of heart, body, strength, and soul. 

In a couple of days I’ll turn twenty-six, and the next day will mark eight years since I last saw you. I’m still grappling with that. I’m starting to wonder if my grief is the thorn not to leave my side. I know the facts, the hope, the peace, the joy. What a profoundly blessed grace our GOD has given in Christ! To know this is not the end! The grief colors it dark blue with Homesickness. For to be reminded of Heaven — for me — is to long to be there. With the Savior who introduced Himself through the example of Dad and you. With the GOD in Heaven whose presence you experience in fullness even now. 

That’s what happened on this mission trip — the Homesickness weighed heavy. Though glad to be there and serving, my heart longed to be elsewhere. And though right now we are flying home to New York, the city is not His City. 

Worshiping brought peace. As we sat in a circle most of the nights, singing songs to the LORD, and the songs were the words my lips had trouble saying. We sang the song “Build My Life” on Sunday morning at the church with whom we partnered this week, and as we sang the bridge, I imagined the joy that would fill your heart were you here to hear me sing those words from the place I am today. In that moment, with my heart weighed heavily with Homesickness and the anxiety of wanting to outwardly express the well of joy within but struggling to do so, those words spoke what I could not:

“I will build my life upon Your love
It is a firm foundation.
I will put my trust in You alone
And I will not be shaken.”

My heart clings to the truth behind those words. Anchored in the words of David’s psalm: “Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken” (Psalm 62:1-2). I am not shaken because that same rock and salvation lives within me. The very act of putting one foot before the next is the evidence of His presence in my life.

I sympathize with the world’s need to distract itself to death. Quite literally. Those who do not know the LORD have no hope, no security, no peace. Of course, it’s cause after cause and pursuit after pursuit, whether optimistically philanthropic or realistically hedonistic — the world distracts itself from the death it cannot escape. Meanwhile, the LORD provided me a stark look in the face of death even as He has provided the path forward through the valley of its shadow.

I cry from the overwhelming, simultaneous weight of this world’s great brokenness and His blessed goodness. What grief our GOD must have over His creation, if this is the depth of grief I feel over even one small part of it — a small part of which I have had no authority or creative hand! And His goodness that never ceases. I think of James 1:17 — that I can trust the gift of every breath in my lungs because He does not change. His purpose is good and His will is perfect.

Mother, I think as I’ve walked this path longer, I have a deeper understanding of your faith. When you went through the mental illness and persevered. It didn’t always look like it on the outside. And to you, I’m sure it didn’t feel as though your faith was strong. But, you kept stepping. You did what you could. Not perfectly, but you didn’t give up. Until the end you didn’t give up. You kept fighting, and loving, and laughing, and singing praises to our GOD with that strong and steady voice that I miss so much. Oh, how I wish we could talk again. So many questions I’d ask. So many new thoughts to share.

But, we are in the same place: secure in His presence. Yours just looks different than mine at the moment. I’m praying His Spirit leads me in contentment as He completes His work in me — as He has evidently done in you (Philippians 1:6).

Your daughter,
Hannah