As far back as I can remember, it was my mom I sought to please the most. I couldn’t stand for her to be disappointed in me. I sought her wisdom and favor in every action and every decision I ever made—big or small.
I never doubted her unconditional love, never doubted that she delighted in my company every bit as much as I delighted in hers. We were so much alike. We had the same sense of humor and would laugh until our sides hurt. We both loved to read, and spent hours reading together.
She could always sense when I was feeling down. She was good at calling me out for being too caught up in this present world rather than the eternal, or on my outward appearance rather than what I was like on the inside.
When my parents moved to Florida, I still talked to my mom everyday. We’d laugh just as much as ever and I’d seek her advice on everything from cooking to child-rearing.
Because I’d never met two people more madly in love than my parents were, I couldn't imagine either one of them living without the other, so when my dad died of a sudden heart attack just shy of my mom’s fifty-eighth birthday, I thought the strong, fun-loving mother I’d always known was gone forever. Thankfully, she was too other-cantered to allow her overwhelming grief lessen her attentiveness and love for her four children. Fortunately, my brother, Craig, also lived in Florida, so at least she wasn't alone.
When Craig died in a tragic accident less than two years after losing my dad, my mom surprised us again with her strength, resilience and great faith in the face of her horrific grief.
After Craig’s death, my mom came to live with us in Michigan. Sadly, if not for the appalling double loss of my beloved father and brother, there is no way she would have moved in with us just when I needed her most. At the time of Craig’s death I was pregnant with my son, Brett. We knew Brett was going to born with “issues,” but nothing could have prepared us for the severity of his disabilities.
I can’t imagine going through those first days, months and years of Brett’s life without my mom by my side. She was with me from the day Brett took his first breath until the day she took her last.
When my mom first became ill, I was filled with fear and anxiety. I didn't want to live in a world without her in it. Many nights, that awful, elephant-on-my-chest anxiety would keep me awake. I’d beg God to heal her—no one would be able to fill the void she’d leave in my life.
Giving up on sleep, I’d get up and grab my Bible, and look up familiar verses. “You are my refuge and my strength, an ever present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46). “Lord, You have searched me and You know me…how precious to me are Your thoughts, O God!” (Psalm 139).
And suddenly it struck me! I’d made my mom my refuge and my strength, she was my ever-present help in the unfortunate circumstances I found myself in. Her thoughts had become more precious to me than God’s!
I think back on those nights now and believe God used those nights to alter my thinking, gently assuring me I would okay because HE is my refuge and my strength. HE is my ever-present help and will never leave me or forsake me.
It’s been exactly two years since I had to say goodbye to her and I still ache to hear her assuring words of wisdom. I still break down and cry because I so desperately want to ask her to pray for me, to tell her about the things that are weighing me down. In these times I ask myself, “What would she say to me?” And I can almost hear her voice, “Don’t be sad, honey. Let go of regrets. Rejoice that I have a new glorified body and am no longer suffering."
I’ve struggled all day today to keep my tears at bay. How could it be that I’ve lived two whole years without her? I grieve her loss more than ever, but I do take comfort in knowing Jesus will wipe every tear from our eyes, that there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. Hallejujah! (Revelation 21:4)
