In my last post I wrote about the special bond my mom and I share. I didn't mention that she writes beautiful poetry...but she does. I wanted to share the poem she wrote for me almost twenty years ago...for my 30th Birthday.

Looking Back

How could I know at age twenty
What God already had in His plan?

How could I know that He'd give me
A daughter, a helper, a friend?

How could I know how I'd love her
That her presence would change my whole life?

How could I know how soon someone
would claim her and make her his wife?

I know that I thank the Lord daily
For a daughter so lovely and true.

And I pray that I've been since age twenty
The right kind of mother for you.

She signed it, "Thank you being such a wonderful daughter and friend for the last thirty years.
I love you, Mom"

One of the greatest blessings in my life is the special bond I share with my mom. Our relationship is one of the most consistent, loving, and joy-filled friendships I have ever witnessed. I adore her, I always have. My older brother used to tell me I couldn't even formulate an opinion without consulting her first. He would ask me something simple like what my favorite color was. I'd ask my mom what her favorite color was. "Green," she'd answer. "Green," I'd tell Jeff. It would exasperate him, "Why can't you come up with an answer on your own?" "That is what I came up with on my own!" I'd answer indignantly and turn to my mom, "Huh Mumma?"

A series of tragic events happened that brought my mom back to Michigan just when I would need her the most. It was an incalculable blessing to have my mom by my side during the difficult months of my pregnancy with Brett and those first few months of his life. I honestly can't imagine how I could have managed without her. Those first few weeks after we brought him home from the hospital are almost a blur. Those days of carefully measuring and re-measuring his ever growing head, not wanting to believe the horrifying numbers. The days and nights of trying to get him to drink one ounce of formula on the hour, every hour. The seemingly impossible, frustrating job of trying to keep the tiny oxygen cannulae lined up with his little nostrils. When we brought Brett home they provided us with a "mother tank" of oxygen that had a 50 foot long cord attached to it so that we could walk around the house with him. Anytime we'd pick him up we'd pull the cord several times, ensuring we had enough slack to keep the cord from pulling against his face. Several days after he was no longer on the oxygen I watched my mom pick him up and then "pull" on an imaginary oxygen cord. I started laughing so hard I could barely get the words out to explain that what was really funny was that I had caught myself doing the exact same thing. We had both gotten so used to that cord that long after it was gone we were still "pulling" on an imaginary cord. It was ridiculous...we laughed until we cried (literally).

My mom compared us continuing to "mind" the cord to us continuing to hold on to worries and burdens that Jesus died to free us from. What a perfect analogy. I've been freed from the "mother tank" of confessed sin yet I keep myself attached through the invisible cords of guilt and regret. Regardless of how often I have been lured away from Him and His ways, and regardless of the fact that I was taught to know better, I still belong to my Father and when I return to Him, He not only welcomes me back, but He runs to meet me! It's inconceivable I know, but I know it's true because my "Bible tells me so" (see the Parable of the Lost Son, Luke 15).

How I thank God for a mother that not only believes everything the Bible says but has taught her children to believe it too.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You're simply the best!