Venus

I looked out the window early this morning and saw your star in the sky.  It broke me.  You have been taken out of this world.  You were such a beautiful person.  You taught me so much about life and family and loving Jesus with all your heart.  I still remember our very first conversation at Real Life Group when we were talking about how we wanted to set up our group and the topic of whether we should have food or not came up.  We both agreed that our food should be Jesus-that our focus should be Him and why would we have silly, superfluous things when He was there for the taking?  I remember laughing and being amazed that someone else felt the exact way I did about it.  I remember you.  You made such an impact on me that night and from then on.  You never complained-about anything.  You did not tolerate me complaining either.  The day Rachel left for Nepal I was so full of fear.  I emailed several friends about it.  They all consoled me-all except you.  You put me in my place telling me "she has kingdom work to do" and to basically snap out of it.  I loved you for that.  You always had God's perspective on life-always an eternal mindset.  I can still see your smile and you shaking your head and your beautiful heart spilling out of your eyes-your heart of love for the Father.  I will never forget you and Steve's testimony of how Jesus saved you, your heart for your family, your love for the Persian people.  I remember our lovely dinner at the Persian restaurant and the times you had us over for dinner.  I remember the night we invited the Iraqui couple over and the girls hid upstairs, spying over the railing to hear Steve share Jesus with them.  I remember every time I left you, you told me you loved me-and I know you did-I saw it.  You loved my girls like they were your own. The pink whisps of morning clouds are in the sky now and your star is gone-like you, my friend.  I will never forget you and the beautiful, passionate way you loved our Jesus.  I got a message from your sweet daughter last night-just like you-resolute, focused on Christ-gentle and sweet.  What a legacy you have left.  Dance with Jesus, my friend.  You are home now.

Fall

Hi Mom-First rain of the fall-first promise of cooler weather coming, of a break in the heat.  Corresponds to my heart-this is the first week I have felt a small break in the agony of losing you and although I know it is a permanent wound, it hurts a tiny bit less this week and hey, I'll take it.  I still think of you all the time, in so many small and large moments of each day.  Yesterday I decorated my house for fall-a season you taught me to love with all its colors and cool weather.  You taught me to make my home a sanctuary of beauty and peace for my family and I will honor your memory in this.  Christina has been having a hard time lately.  Last night I took her to a movie, just to get her out and get her mind off of things.  I thought about you and what an advocate you always were for your kids and grandkids.  That is something you would have done.  You always entered into our sadnesses and tried to bring light.  I love that.  Thanks for that example, mom.  I live it every day.  So....happy fall, happy relief, happy that you are where you are even though I miss you here like crazy.

Souvenirs

"Here's to the twilight, here's to the memories, these are my souvenirs, my mental picture of everything......I close my eyes and go back in time, I can see you're smiling, you're so alive......."

I have so many souvenirs, mom, of your time here on earth-physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.  I carry them with me.  They are my memories of you and at times they overwhelm.  This morning was our first cool morning of the fall-I sat out on the patio and happened to glance up at the clouds-they were glorious!  Rays of light were bursting through, shouting their presence and I wondered where you were-"up there", "out there".  What does that even mean?  You are no longer in space and time.  Your soul is safe with Jesus but man, I miss you down here.  Life is NOT the same at all.  Never will be again.  A huge rip in the fabric of life-an irreparable one.  So I will treasure my souvenirs of our time together-I will hold to things you taught me and the person that you were and the love you gave me.

Bask

Dear Mom-  It doesn't seem right that you are not in this world.  I go about my day, unaware, distracted and then this overwhelming sorrow starts in my gut and moves up until it overflows through tears out of my eyes:  you are gone.  Really gone.  I won't see you on this earth ever again.  I try not to let it overwhelm me but it is sad and I miss you.  Every day.  Really miss you.  Life is hard and people are mean and sometimes I just need my mom.  However, I am so thankful you are where you are.  I would never ever want you back here. The only light here is Jesus-everything else is darkness.  Even with Him, some days, I just don't understand life at all....or people......or why things have happened as they have and why my heart is sad all the time.  No, mom, you are better off where you are.  So bask in it-bask in God's glorious presence.  And I will be happy for you.

The Last Night That She Lived

Oh mom-last night I was sick and my nose was plugged up and I could not breathe so I had to breathe with my mouth open and my throat got sore and I was so miserable.  All I could think about was your last 3 days and how you labored, with your mouth open too, and dehydrated, and how miserable you must have been.  But then, "death is swallowed up in victory."  That is what it is, mom.  You are free.  Your trials are over.

I found this Emily Dickinson poem last night upon planning Christina's school for the week.  It took my breath away and I had to reread it several times.  I cannot believe how almost perfectly it describes that last night with you.  Here goes:


The last night that she lived
It was a common night
Except the dying-this to us
Made nature different.

We noticed smallest things-
Things overlooked before
By this great light upon our minds
Italicized-as 'twere.

As we went out and in
Between her final room
And rooms where those to be alive
Tomorrow were-a blame

That others could exist
While she must finish quite
a jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite.

We waited while she passed
It was a narrow time
Too jostled were our souls to speak
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, struggled scarce-
Consented, and was dead.

And we-we placed the hair
And drew the head erect
And then an awful leisure was
Belief to regulate.

Wow, just wow,  mom.  This says it so well from our perspective.  I wonder what your poem would be like from heaven?

Tears

It is Sunday, mom.  I will go to church again and cry this morning.  Tears, always tears.  I remember you did the same thing for years and I used to get annoyed with you.  That was before I understood.  Oh, mom, I get it now.  I am sorry I did not before.  I hope I never showed impatience with you.  I get it that your heart was breaking and your spirit was worshiping  all at the same time.  I get it that you wanted so many good things for your family and you were wrestling with trusting God  to give His best.  Was your heart breaking over sin and your own unworthiness?  Were they tears of gratitude and relief that your spirit understood it was all going to be ok in the end?  Tears of pain over years of unanswered prayers?  Tears of grief over missing people that had gone on before you and just wanting a few more moments with them?  I don't know, mom, but I have a feeling I am close.  I get it, now.  No more tears for you in heaven so I will shed them for you here as well and Jesus will keep them in a bottle-He says so.  Not sure what He will do with that bottle but I trust Him and am glad He holds mine and yours and that you are free to shed no more.

You Again

Hi mom- Last night I had another dream about you.  I am so glad you have not disappeared in those quite yet.  This one was very cool.  I was at Campbell's trying to pick out some roses for the girls and you were there with me-it was clear that there was something wrong with you physically-you had a hard time walking or you walked with a limp or something.  But mom-you were completely YOU again-laughing with me, telling me stories, remembering things, helping me make decisions, talking to people.  It was amazing.  I thoroughly enjoyed having you there, having you present in your total capacity.  Waking this morning, I feel much more connected to the real you-the one that slowly started going away years ago.  Maybe I got a little glimpse of you in heaven.  I know you are in your full capacity there, enjoying every "day", "moment"-even though time is not measured there-or maybe it is and it just goes on forever and ever, each day as bright and wonderful as the last.  I can't wait.  I love you mom and miss you every single day.