Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

Happy Mother’s Day. It’s hard to believe, but it has been nearly 8 years since I began writing these letters. And it began on Mother’s Day, because on how much more fitting a day could such a blog begin?

A dear sibling asked just the other day how Mother’s Day was looking for me this year. In a good place at the time, I said that it seemed that today would be better than usual. Especially in light of my birthday perhaps being one of the most difficult this year — that is, I thought I’d cried all my tears.

I thought wrong.

Last night it hit. Thinking of how much I would love to visit home and see your excitement as I observed from a front row seat for the five years that Joel, being out of the house after graduation, and Katie received upon their visits until your passing. You were always so excited, outwardly exuberant, and — when it not surprised with a visit — joyfully determined in getting all preparations ready for their homecoming. I didn’t realize until after I left for university, and even more so now that I’m halfway across the country, how I’d looked forward to that same expression on your face. The assurance of the same welcoming heart. Getting to process all the things with you, even as I did on those senior year afternoons when it was only six hours and half-a-mile that separated us. (How much more would those conversations mean when it was six months and 1,500 miles separate us?)

Of course, I do love visiting family, and they welcome me with love and joy. Yet, as today is Mother’s Day, I am reminded of my mother since birth. The one who has had a lifelong impact, even if you have not been here for the last 8 years of it.

The LORD, in His loving grace reminded me that there will be an even better Homecoming day. When I will not be arriving for a visit, but to remain. And I know that the joy I saw when you welcomed your son and daughter-in-love home for visits will pale in comparison with the joy shining from your countenance when you welcome us Home to our Father. And even that will pale in comparison with the glory of His face that will shine over all of creation with simply His presence.

Oh, Mom. I’ve reflected much as of late on Paul’s words that “to live is Christ and to die is gain.”¹ I’m afraid my heart is still working on the first bit. The heart of his words revealed through his following explanation is that to live is to serve his brothers- and sisters-in-Christ (and to continue in evangelism). This is where I am learning and have much need to grow. And, where I also see so much of the completion of God’s work in you. I know you weren’t perfect, and I’m sure you would say that your heart was not always in the service you did for others, but what I saw was service after service after service of others. Both believers and non-believers. I think of how you “worked” at Color Me Mine before you were ever on the payroll. You saw a need (most often for action) and filled it. I saw the fruit. Even when I know you struggled to “know your place” as you once shared with me.

Here I am, Mom. In that place of struggling to “know my place” and yearning for the Promise I know is ahead. Yet, I am encouraged again in my study of His word today that He brought to mind: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”² He prepared them in advance. Thus, even in His foreknowledge of my sin, He has prepared these works that I would walk in them. Even in His foreknowledge of my doubts, He has ordained beforehand all these days that I would live out unhidden from His sight.³

So, now maybe it is sixty years — and infinite miles (or perhaps less than a nanometer) separating us, but I will make it Home, by God’s grace. And, until then, I thank Him for the first example I was set in what being a mother means. And for every “mother” He has provided since.

Your daughter,
Hannah

1. Philippians 1:21 ↩︎
2. Ephesians 2:10 ↩︎
3. Psalm 139:15-16 ↩︎