Life Without Mother

Dear Friend,

I was speaking with another friend the other day about music. Specifically how with certain music we are triggered to nostalgia. (This can also apply to movies, books, food, places, etc.) The power of a simple song to take us back in our minds to a moment — remembering the harmony of voices singing along, the smiling face opposite ours, the aromas of the air itself in that room or car or general vicinity of our loved one.

And how, only after all this time has passed, we invite that nostalgia in.

Before, so close to losing the reality of that the recurring memory, we avoided those songs. Those artists. Not keeping current with even their new music because simply their voices took us back.

I wonder if it’s because we were young. Both still not yet 21 when we lost our mothers. We had to immediately move on, in some sense, to function. Our whole lives ahead of us, oldest daughters, trying to keep living when all we felt was the emphasis of Paul’s words that “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”¹ To remember was difficult — to let go, even harder.

For me, it’s been eight years. And, as I’ve shared before, just in the past six months, I’ve come to a place of letting go of the need to remember. (I still remember, just don’t feel the necessity to hold on so tight.) In this place I listen to the songs. I remember, I enjoy, even add one or two to my Spotify playlist. Then move on. Some of the songs are no longer part of who I am now, but from where I’ve come. Like the memories, I don’t have to hold onto them to retain my identity.

Rather, they are the precursors to my current playlist. Just like those baby clothes I once wore — some went to another, some to the trash, and others are kept in a box with the hope of future use. All a part of who I was as an infant — the expression of my parents as they raised me in their world of faith and family. The songs of my past have influenced the songs of my present. My memories influence who I am. But, they are not who I am.

We are “new creations,” friend, when we have put our faith in Christ.² And every day, He makes us more and more like Him. Through suffering, He produces perseverance — that perseverance produces character — and that character produces hope.³ Thus, by suffering we mature. We become mature believers, not lacking in anything.⁴ No, we find, as Paul did, that in Christ we have everything we need for every situation.⁵ The LORD purifies our worldview, as suffering the loss of what is perishable, we look to what is imperishable!⁶ (I’ll have to explore these ideas later.)

I consider how my music tastes and lyrical value have changed. In some ways, I find myself clinging to the hymns of my more distant past, my baby/childhood, growing up in southern baptist congregations into a strongly southern baptist family. However, it is not simple nostalgia that draws me back. Rather, the depth of these lyrics:

How deep the Father’s love for us…

that He should give His only Son

to make a wretch His treasure!⁷

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!

Heir of salvation [and] purchase of God–

[I’m] born of His Spirit [and] washed in His blood!⁸

Come behold the wondrous mystery:

Slain by death the God of life

but no grave could e’er restrain Him–

Praise the LORD! He is alive!”⁹

High King of Heaven, my victory won,

may I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun?

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all!¹⁰

These hymns — old and modern — are the Gospel in song, some since long before my mother was even thought of, much less myself! So, to sing these is to join in with the legacy of believers across generations and denominations and continents even, singing the truth of God’s word back to the One who wrote it! Now, more than ever, as He has worked out the wonder of these truths — the severity of my sin with the magnificence of His mercy — I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. And that hope that Paul speaks of in Romans. It is the hope that “great cloud of witnesses” in Hebrews 11 testify: our God keeps His promises to every dot and iota — unto the birth, death, and resurrection of Christ, and the pouring out of His Spirit across the nations! — and will keep His promises to us!¹¹

Honestly, friend, this letter has taken a slightly different direction than I initially thought. But, this is the intended effect of the believer’s grief: to rejoice in the Gospel and testify of its hope and power!

It is in this hope and power that I find His Spirit healing my heart and mind. Eight years of time has passed. For some, it may take longer — for others, a shorter time. Yet, in Christ, we all have the hope of healing. It is His promise in His Spirit. That we will all receive the resurrection of our bodies, in their glorified state beyond all imagination!

Until then, I will continue to revisit the songs of my past with fondness and joy — and, as needed, with the tears that a produced out of the tension of suffering now and glory later. Of death now and life forevermore. And I will continue to sing the songs that express this ever developing awareness of the glory and power and sovereignty of my great and wonderful LORD!

With a song ever in my heart and on my lips,
Hannah

1. Philippians 1:21 ↩︎
2. 2 Corinthians 5:17 ↩︎
3. Romans 5:1-5 ↩︎
4. James 1:2-4 ↩︎
5. Philippians 4:13 ↩︎
6. 1 Corinthians 15:50-58 ↩︎
7. “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us” by Stuart Townend; Austin Stone Worship ↩︎
8. “Blessed Assurance” by Fanny Crosby; Lydia Walker ↩︎
9. “Come Behold the Wondrous Mystery” by Matt Boswell, Matt Papa, and Michael Bleecker; The Gray Havens ↩︎
10. “Be Thou My Vision” based off the poem by Dallán Forgaill, common English translation by Eleanor Hull; Keith and Kristen Getty ↩︎
11. Hebrews 11:1-12:3 ↩︎