This is a long one, but hang in there with me. I want to tell you about my mom. Wow, what a woman. I wish you could have met her.
My mom loved the Lord in both really simple and passionate ways. She led worship each week at our church with an accompaniment track and an overhead projector, if you know what that means. She dressed like a classic 90s mom. She taught me the meaning of excellence and hard work. She loved horses, and taught me to care for them and how to ride them from the time I was a toddler. She hated Halloween but always made sure we had (poorly) homemade Halloween costumes. She taught me to bake cookies, make meatloaf and spaghetti, and the art of perfect cinnamon toast (her specialty). She gave me her love for all things Disney and music. She tried to teach me piano, but I hated it and was bad, and she also knew when to stop. She drove me to soccer and gymnastics and band (I think it’s okay that you finally know that I was a marching band kid). She told me to ignore the girls that were bullying me, because their words didn’t get to have power in my life. We went shopping for my prom dresses together. Christmas was her favorite time of year and she would always go above and beyond for it. She loved crime TV shows, so I’ve probably seen every episode of CSI, Bones, and Criminal Minds. We had seasons of good relationship and hard relationship, but at the end of the day, she was my mom. And she loved me to the best of her ability.
On December 12th, 2015, I got the hardest phone call of my life. After over 8 years of battling a little known degenerative brain disease, my mom went home to be with Jesus. I have zero doubts that’s where she is right now – healed and whole and beautiful. For the 6 months after I got home from the Race, I moved back in with my parents and took care of my mom. It was a beautiful season of reconciliation and learning how to serve and love selflessly. We went to the bookstore and the zoo. We watched all those crime TV shows. We went on wheelchair walks everyday. I cooked her food, cared for her, and spent a lot of time just sitting with her. And it made the loss that much harder. Because I learned to love her in a whole new way.
After years of praying for God to heal her, or for something to change, she died. And that started my journey with grief.
Grief is such a messy, beautiful, hard, complicated, and important journey. I’m not sure that there is an exact right way to grieve, but I’m pretty sure there are a lot of wrong ways.
For me grief started long before I lost my mom. She had been sick for many years, and it changed everything about her – her personality, her physical abilities, and our relationship. So I had been grieving the loss of my mom for a long time. But then, when she actually died, it started with tears – lots and lots of tears. I spent a lot of nights crying myself to sleep, or sitting in my bedroom floor weeping and yelling at God, or laying in the kitchen floor (I actually meet with the Lord a lot this way). I asked God all my questions, even though sometimes I didn’t get answers. I wasn’t sure how to talk about anything or how to hold my emotions well, and I didn’t know how to ask others to help me hold them. I had a few really solid friends, who were great at just sitting with me in the middle of my mess. I am so grateful to them for that. And I get to feel and experience daily the truth that the Lord is close to and heals the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18, 147:3).
The entire following year was about grieving and healing and processing. I started talking to a counselor weekly to process all of the loss and change I walked through in such a short season. I made myself a bucket list of things to complete, to help me remember that life was worth living and sometimes we have to go after it. I walked through a lot of inner healing and prayer ministry. I dove deep into community and learned how to let people into what I was experiencing. Bit by bit, I started to feel better.
But there were still moments where sadness overwhelmed me…in the middle of a worship session, or driving home from work, or while shopping for groceries. In those moments, I would acknowledge how much I missed her, and let myself feel the fulness of the sadness. And then I would ask God to comfort me and bring healing. I would make the cookies she taught me to make in the bowls she taught me to make them in. I would sit with the Lord in stillness and solitude. I’d watch an episode of Criminal Minds or work on the stocking projects for my brothers she didn’t get to finish. I would list all the reasons I was so thankful to have had her for those 24 years in my life. I would call my siblings. I would choose happy memories to think about to lock my mom into my mind, but remind myself that life without her in it, could still be full and beautiful. And the legacy she left in my siblings and myself and the people she met would never be gone.
Those moments have been fewer and farther between. But they still happen. I cry every Mother’s day. Austin and I have wept together over the fact that he did not get to meet her and our kids will never know her. I did a tear-filled tribute to her during our wedding. And sometimes it comes out of nowhere. A few weeks ago Austin and I watched a movie in which the mom died, and when the son received the phone call, it instantly took me back to the hallway outside the Christmas party in 2015 where I heard the same news. I sobbed for hours.
But what exists now more so than all those sad and heavy moments are the hopeful and joyous ones. I have beautiful memories with my mom that I cherish. I love telling people about her. I love telling Austin stories about growing up. I can’t wait to do the same thing with our kids. I have the knowledge that she is healthy and whole and perfectly fulfilled in the arms of Jesus, and one day, I may even get to see her again. This is the first time December 12th has rolled around that I don’t feel heavy and sad, but actually full of hope and joy and gratitude.
My grieving process wasn’t perfect, but it was my journey. It was real and raw and filled with Jesus, and probably isn’t over yet. And though I would love to just sit and talk with my Mom for a few good hours, I’m so grateful for how I have grown and changed and now have the opportunity to walk alongside others in their grief.
So this is me extending a hand. If you’re on your own journey of grief, I’m here for you. I am here to sit with you in it. I am here to help you get unstuck, if you feel that way. I am here to listen to your stories about those you have loved and lost. I am here to help you connect with the Holy Spirit and receive whatever healing God has for you. Because every time I get to do that, I get to see God bringing goodness out of my grief, and comfort to my mourning. Mom’s life is still making a difference.
