Dear Mom,
I’ve written much about our conversations senior year — that time when we discussed life, theology, silly moments, everything. Often, it was at the kitchen table in our Frisco house. Well, I was at the table — you often were up and about, working in the kitchen and watering the plants of the sunroom.
This weekend, the LORD opened my eyes to a beautiful parallel: Dad and I having conversations in the same way over a different kitchen table. It’s the living poetry of parallelism in place, person, and perspective.
The conversations I had with you marked a paradigm shift in my life as I began to understand what it truly meant to live for His Kingdom instead of my own. I was studying His word more and falling in love with it more and more every day. And there you were to hear and process the many new thoughts and convictions of my heart week to week. It’s what I remember from that time. The utter support you gave for those convictions to be holy because our LORD is holy. To receive my questions and to give your own thoughts. To wrestle with our faith as individuals even as we did so in fellowship with one another.
This weekend, Dad and I talked theology. We disagreed on some things, wrestling to understand one another and (most important) what the LORD has said on the matter. We have talked far more over these years about such things and I find, as I’m even more so hungry to know and understand the Bible, that our conversations have been inspiring. They challenge me not only to properly understand His word, but to be able to clearly articulate my convictions from that understanding. It is inspiring to see Dad growing more and more in his love for scripture — understanding and correctly applying it. I pray that as I get older that I would have the same desire and persistence.
Just as you and I used to talk around the table, now Dad and I do. Both the physical table of his kitchen, and over the phone. Rather than conversations from proximity as you and I had, our conversations are now born of intentionality. It’s transition. A physical change in place. No longer do we meet in the place of my childhood — we do so in this place of my young-adulthood. A change in the person. Even as I learned from your life and point of view, I now learn from Dad a different outlook. He is the one who is still here, able to lead and guide and support, and continue growing himself.
And, finally, a change in perspective: I am not the same person I was over eight years ago. I was 17, then. Now, I’m 26. And what maturity I’ve gained in those 8+ years is to recognize how little I know and understand now, much less then. Over eight years of wrestling what depths of my faith I have yet experienced. (And, from where I stand now, they have been pretty deep.)
Dad has encouraged me with his own openness regarding how he views much of life, relationships, and even his own faith different — far better — than he did before. I’m reminded of Paul’s example in Romans 7 where he confesses his own struggle framed by the Gospel in which we “have no condemnation in Christ Jesus” even as we are to “put to death the misdeeds of the body.”1 It’s the day-to-day choice to take up our crosses.2 And I get to see Dad model that for us, and learn from his example and desire to know God and His word better every day.
So, as much as I can’t wait to share in the full revelation of all the conversations you and I had years ago, I’m more than content with the continuing discipleship I have from Dad.
Just thought you would want to know. And would be proud of us. Miss you, Mom.
Your daughter,
Hannah
Life Without Mother 
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