My Joy and my Heart

"I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden, along with the sunshine there's gotta be a little rain sometime..." This lyric sung by Lynn Anderson (1971) was a funny thing my Mom used to say when she found her children exhibiting a complaining spirit about life in general. She would often say it when she realized she too had expectations that life was not cooperating to provide. And even though this song is being sung in the context of a relationship it bears such truth to the rest of life. I beg your pardon but suffering in this life is unavoidable.  I came across a sermon by Charles Haddon Spurgeon from 1910 titled Maroth-The Disappointed ,  that I found great comfort in.    "Who are you that everything should happen just as you wish? Should the weather be fine simply because you want it to be so when a thousand fields are gasping for rain? Should you have the channels of trade turned in your direction when, if that were the case, scores of others would b...

I’ve been humming a lot lately. People have been noticing even when I don’t notice that I am doing it. My Dad hummed. He hummed and whistled all the time. It’s very calming actually. The body's way to regulate oneself under stress or overthinking I assume. I am happy to be carrying on the tradition. It makes me feel close to my Dad who for most of my life was 300 and something miles away.  One of my last 300 mile visits up to see him he had just moved into a new house. I was helping him organize his office. He was listening to his standard western honky tonk music, singing at the top of his lungs, and drumming on his desk; a standard practice for my Dad. He really should have been a drummer.  I was having the best time just singing and laughing with him. He was sick already at the time but in that moment he let us both forget that he was. I’m so glad for that memory.  My brain has been working overtime these last couple of years so I’m thankful when I can revisit my paren...

Dear Mom, Everyone has been asking me how I am. Your birthday just passed again. It came and then it went and I don’t know how I feel about that. I took all week to process and still haven’t come to a conclusion. It’s just not fun…how about that? People had great suggestions of what I should have done to celebrate your heavenly birthday. My only response to it was “eh!”    These special days are a more intense reminder that you are no longer here. My whole body is preparing for the days leading up to them with a flood of cortisol. This is our second birthday without you, and I cannot imagine it will get any easier. Each passing birthday reminds me of how many months have passed since that awful day. It’s been 17 months. It seems like enough time for whatever is supposed to happen, but when you go through something hard, something traumatic, the world doesn’t stop and wait for you to catch up.  I know that you would understand with an empathetic ear.  I believe i...

Mom was easy to be around. She made everyone feel welcome and comfortable. Friends were easy to find for her. Probably because with Mom, there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. With Mom, you knew you would be genuinely listened to. Mom was honest and authentic. She never tried to pretend to be someone she was not. Her compliments were genuine. Her corrections were in love. She was reliable. Mom did what she said she would do, but she also extended herself to others in a way I had never seen before. She was lovely. She is lovely. I have spent the last year missing all these things about her. There is rarely a moment in my day when I am not thinking about her. Sometimes that is comfort, and sometimes it is extreme pain. It just depends on how badly I need a voice on the other end of the conversation I am having with her in my head. No, I am not crazy. I'm just a girl who misses her Mom. I walk into a room where she was, and then she wasn't every day.  Mother's Day ...

  "You just gotta get through the first year!" I have heard this expression many times over the past year, along with other variations. I've heard people say this in movies and to others who have experienced death, but I've never really thought that deeply about it until I've had to. I've concluded something about this expression. It seems like someone tries to offer comfort while also pointing to their desire that you return to normal, and it's going to take 365 days to do so. Although I appreciate the sentiment and know it comes with good intentions, I can now confirm for you that nothing has returned to normal for me on this 20th day of February, one year after my Mom's death.  My senior class advisor informed me that the first year of college would be the hardest. Plenty of baby books assured me that the first year of motherhood would come with the most challenges. And I am pretty confident that my first year on a new job came with the most signif...

I spoke about my Mom today with a complete stranger as if she were still alive. I didn't even realize I was doing it until after our conversation was over. I suppose I will continue to do that from time to time. Seems like a pretty normal mistake to make considering the countless conversations I've had about my Mom even when she was still alive on this earth.  I use the word "normal" loosely as nothing about my current situation seems "normal," but it was pretty standard for me to speak of my Mother often as I was always so proud of her.  The evidence of her impactful life continues to make itself known as we slowly go through her belongings. This is my least favorite venture since her passing. Everything smells like her. I know that might bring comfort to some but I haven't quite figured out what it does for me. Yet I come across the most amazing things that bring peace and comfort. Most recently, we discovered her prayer journals. Pages and pages of na...

As my kids happily pranced into my bedroom this morning with their handmade cards, notes and gifts, a proud mama can't help but be filled with joy. They are always so excited to show me what they made me and I always feel so important to be served such wonderful little blessings still in my pajamas in bed. It gives this Mom a tiny moment of feeling like royalty.  The husband brings me coffee, breakfast, and flowers and a well thought out card that usually makes me cry. This has been a Mother's Day I have come to expect in my 14 years as a mother myself. Life has a way of spoiling us like that. We come to expect things and look forward to them. This is a good thing. It's God's grace that gives us these beautiful moments.  Today is a Mother's Day I could never have anticipated. It doesn't matter how old your parents get, the loss of one is something you never want to anticipate and definitely can't imagine. They say that each of us experience certain moments i...