Thanks for being my mom

 

I decided to take a social media break for Lent, little did I know how that time would be used and how important that would be. This sweet woman, my Mom, went home to be with the Lord yesterday. Heaven has gained another great saint – of that I am sure. We knew shortly before Lent began that she had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. This came as a pretty big shock to all of us. And even more shocking still was the prognosis that followed a few weeks later. We got that prognosis about 5 weeks ago – that they estimated she had 3 months left to live. As things were so far progressed, she declined chemo and we just spent every moment we could as a whole family enjoying every moment we could with her. We drove back home a week after her prognosis to spend some quality time with her. That is when we took this photo at a park one day. It is by far one of my favorites and I’d like to share why.

My mom has never been one to complain. I was actually pretty shocked by how things had progressed with the cancer when I first saw her because she acted as if it was so little a bother. I knew she was in a lot of pain at that point, and she was quiet in the evenings, she wasn’t eating at that time, but pain is generally something we’re just good at managing in this family, so it’s never an easy thing to gauge. It doesn’t usually reveal itself to others until it’s really serious.

As her disease progressed, even in the short time I was with her, she just seemed more and more childlike in her demeanor. Not childish, but childlike. Everything became very simplified, conversations, faith, the daily doings. I expected things to be quite different, in light of such a disease, to sit with the dying, and yet, I know after my husband’s near-death experience just how real heaven is. But sitting in that room with her, it was so filled with light and peace and joy that one could almost touch it. She was beautiful and she radiated love. She was an absolute joy to care for in what little ways I was able to contribute, and I wish I could have stayed much longer and done so much more. While I know things were very hard in her last two weeks, the pain level was very great, she carried this burden in ways that just astound me.

Some things really stand out to me though.

First of all, she wasn’t perfect. She was so filled with the love and light of Christ, she was so close to God. Her will was as completely in sync with His will as I’ve ever witnessed another living person be. She kept saying that God would heal her one way or another, either on this side of heaven or the other. But she still wasn’t perfect. This really strikes me somehow. Some of us in life try so very hard to always do the right thing, to be for everyone all that we can be, and somehow it isn’t enough in some things. There will always ways we fail, and people to tell us we aren’t enough, detractors, those who never really understand us. We can carry internal messages of things that have been said to us, ways that we’ve been poorly treated. This can be especially hard for people who have experienced abuse in some form or misuse of power by those in authority, especially fallen Church leaders along the way in life. Yet none of those things reflect the heart of Christ. I know we rely on the grace of God for salvation and I hear many people say this, but sometimes there can still be disconnects, either within, or in those exterior examples in life, and we need to fully experience that grace and dependency on God at times, in very a visceral way, as we grow in our faith. God doesn’t expect perfection. He just needs us to cooperate and let Him do the rest. That is not an excuse to remain in a life of unrepentant sin and cheap grace, but as a comfort to rest in our imperfections and to fully trust that He will finish the work He began within us and then make up for the rest with His own perfection and love.

Secondly, she truly displayed, in those last moments in particular, the beauty of God’s call to a childlike faith. She was not wrestling with God over this big turn of events. She was at complete peace with it all, though she knew there are many things she will miss being here for, in an earthly, physical sense. The grandkids growing up fully, going to college and getting married, all the dreams that I still carry within, for my own life that are yet to be realized. She also did not cling to regrets in life. She did not need to have it all figured out, but she trusted what she didn’t know to her Father in heaven, and she did her best with what she did know, not out of any sense of duty, but out of deep love and surrender. She was okay with a little mystery along the journey. Not the cognitive dissonance that is so commonly accepted today, but the true and lasting beauty of the mystery of a hidden, and yet ever-present, Abba in heaven.

We only had about 3-1/2 weeks to digest all of this, from the time of her prognosis until she was no longer able to communicate. But the love that she radiated in that short time span, the lessons she left, are remarkable and many. There are so many things I could say about her life, all the things that she taught me, all the accomplishments that she achieved in her quilting and art. But truly, what I saw at the end, was not someone famous, she was someone that led a relatively unknown and quiet life, by the world’s standards, but who touched so many souls, who added so much beauty and richness, love and grace to the Body of Christ. While the world will not create great monuments in her honor, that is not what life is really about. It is about loving God and our neighbor for His sake and doing the next right thing. These things that tear us apart as a nation right now, and sadly, even in our Churches, do not define us. They are not lasting, they are all surface distractions that keep us from seeing the rich beauty of life that goes so much deeper. They are like tiny little blips on the radar of eternity. What truly matters is something so much deeper, that childlike faith and love and the gift of life.

While the world tells us how important it is to be tough and powerful, to be known and to make our voice heard, to “make a difference,” truly...there is absolutely nothing to fear from being small. God tells us that “those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Matthew 23:12 NIV) We never really know on this side of heaven the ripple effect that our actions and love will have throughout time and eternity. Those things are much greater than we realize, of that I’m sure. The greatest glory we can give to God and to His Body on earth is a contrite, humble, loving heart in full surrender to His plan for our lives. To me, there is no greater story on earth.

This photo that I share with you today was one of those simple moments we shared together over that one week back home. It was the one day she felt good enough to leave the house and we spent a little time sitting in a gazebo, soaking in the beautiful weather of an early spring afternoon while the kids walked and played. It was another of those many moments of childlike faith and full presence to the moment at hand.

People ask how I am doing right now. I would say this. I am deeply sad. I will miss my Mom every day for the rest of my earthly existence. The tears come and go. But, greater than my sadness is this...I wonder what is she experiencing right now? What beauty and wonders is she taking in? And if I’m truly honest, I’m slightly jealous that I have to wait a little longer to see those things, too. I am sad. But I feel so much joy, too. My Mom is not in pain anymore. She’s lived with a very difficult nerve condition for many years now. She has missed her own parents, who have both gone before her. And she’s in the full embrace of Christ for all eternity now. How can I truly be sad with such news at hand? Life is so short and there is much left to do.

There is only one of two things that I never got the chance to say to her while she was still conscious, in all the flurry of the stuff going on these past several weeks, the constants ups and downs of her daily condition...

Thanks for being my mom.