This is also why he fell asleep mid-chew on Sunday night in the middle of a blaring restaurant.
There is a Time for Everything August 18, 2009
I have been struggling with this blog for awhile because I’m not posting with the same focus I had when I first started to write here. When I first started this blog I was in a period of immediate, deep grief over the illness and then loss of my mom to cancer. Along with that came the wonderful gift of gardening — something she had loved and I had just found — to carry me through some very, very hard days. All of this poured into and fed the growth of my faith and a period of discovery about both myself and, more importantly, my God.
Solomon (not the Beetles) had his heart set in solid truth when he wrote Ecclesiastes 3:1-8:
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
I think that this is part of why I’ve felt very unfocused in my writing here recently. I have entered a new season of life.
This is not to say that grief is gone — I can’t think of a day that goes by without some thought or longing to be with my mom in heaven, worshipping our Creator. Time has a way, though, of softening sharp edges and the Spirit has a way of using Christ’s redeeming power to take every sorrow and draw from it joy. As this process has happened I have slowly shifted my focus to other needful things: my marriage, my son, my home…
As a result, the gardening posts will likely be fewer (though I do have a new plot to sink my hands into at this late part of the growing season), my posts about my mother likely farther in between (though my life with her informs every part of life after her going home). You’ll hear me talking dollars more than any girl who hates even thinking about money ought, and struggling through the fast-paced adventures of raising my little boy. You’ll likely hear about a lot of apologies made to my husbad, though I hope those become fewer, too (out of peace, clearly, rather than a hardening of heart). Cooking? Well, I’ll never stop talking about that. And my Savior? As the old hymn tells us, “Lord I need thee every hour.” And I do.
But yes, my focus has changed. And having said just that, I feel more free to post the things I’m dealing with now. I hope it’s interesting and helpful to you — because it’s interesting and helpful to me. Indeed, there is a time for everything.
Ten Widdow Mon-teys, Yumpin’onna Bed August 18, 2009
Today I had a blast with Eamonn. Do you know what we were doing? We were cleaning.
We’re in week two of no channels on the TV and a lovely thing has happened — he’s started not to miss TV. This morning he asked me, “Mom — would you play music on the TV?” We don’t have a stereo and my iPod really only plays through headphones or in the car. But we have a game console that will let me stream music from my computer or play off of a CD. So we listened to worship music while he played with Legos and I put dinner into the crock pot. Later in the day when we got home from running various errands around town neither of us even paused at the TV as we came through the door. Rather, we lugged a toy cubby that I’d gotten from my sister-in-law in trade for a trike Eamonn never rode into Eamonn’s room and began sorting his toys into the various cubby holes. He loved it.
“I have a ball! This is an instrument, Mom! Here is another train piece!” We sorted through his toys which were in a big jumble in his wagon and gave them all homes. As we rifled through his things we began to find monkey from a long-forgotten barrel of monkeys and started singing the “10 Little Monkeys Jumping on a Bed” song together. When Eamonn sings it, it goes, “10 widdow mon-teys, yumpin’onna bed…” My heart nearly exploded with love several times and I kept thinking, “How did I miss the nuances of how much fun all of this could be?” I’d fallen into this bad habbit of rushing through every aspect of the day and using TV to babysit while I did things quickly that, given a little more time, we could have done slowly and joyfully together while we talked and laughed and played.
I am not looking for reassurances that I’m a good mom or that everyone makes mistakes like this and gets caught up in the hurry and bustle. I do know those things are true. But here’s the other thing that’s true: My hustle and bustle was a sign of some grave sin that has needed to be dealt with for quite a while now, and the Lord has gently and graciously let me see this as He’s also gently and graciously shown me some ways I could change the pattern. I know we don’t like that word, “sin”. But let’s call it what it is in my case. Waste is a woeful category into which I so often and so easily fall.
The overall message that’s been ringing loud and clear in both my heart and my ears the last few months is that I have much to learn about stewardship of my time, my monetary and material resources, and the gift of a child. This has come in various ways: realizing how much food waste was going on in my own home at my own hands without my realizing it; the natural progression from that realization to a hard look at the rest of my money flow; struggling to find time to sort these things then causing me to realize how much time waste there is, as well. I want to learn to use my time and resources more effectively so that I am able to accommodate Eamonn’s pace rather than setting him aside in order to accommodate mine.
There are several resources I’m considering that I’d like to go through over the next few months as I work on getting some of my life in better order:
C.J. Mahaney of Sovereign Grace Ministries did a series on time management earlier this year and I guess I should have raised the white flag immediately when I starred all of the posts in my Google Reader for reading later and then could never find the time to go through them. However, in searching around and thinking about stewardship, I was reminded that he took the entire series and compiled it in a PDF for free download. I’ve been praying for a study to do because I’m much more consistent with my quiet times when I’m working through something and I think this may be it.
In addition, my friend Beth and I have agreed to work together on our household budgets. Amidst kicking, moaning, a few tears and some grumbling, I’m sure, we are going to be working through Budgeting for Dummies and Managing the Money Maze. I think it will really help to have a friend with whom I’m totally honest about our finances and who will ask me how I’m doing with the budgets my husband and I agree on as I do the same for her.
Last, a natural categorizing of my son’s activities and interests began to emerge as we sorted toys today. He has so many different kinds of activities that he’s interested in. Previously when they were all jumbled together I think it was hard for him to figure out what to play with or what to do with his things. But as we sorted things (I asked for his input on how he thought we should group some of his things and was delighted with some of his decisions) a post from Owlhaven that I read just yesterday on Homeschooling with Preschoolers came to mind. In it, Mary shared an idea for play stations for kiddos my son’s age (3-and-a-half-but-almost-4-thankyouverymuch) and even younger. In my jumbled mental store of notes I thought, “okay, must buy different kinds of things for him to play with…oh but the money…think about it later…” But no. We have everything we need already between puzzles, train tracks, building blocks, activity books, and art supplies. I just didn’t know it because it was all jumbled together. Already ideas for how we could play together and work together through our days at home has begun to emerge and I’m really excited at the time I’m anticipating spending with him.
This seems like a long laundry list and I think I’d easily panic if not for this thought that keeps threading itself through my mind and other considerations today, “You can’t do it. But I can make it possible.” And I trust Him, and He will. I want to honor my Lord and I know He will help me to do it.
God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
2Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling.
Selah
4There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
8 Come, behold the works of the LORD,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
11 The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
Shelter is Not a Place, It’s a Relationship August 16, 2009
I had not heard of Raising Five until tonight but I’m so glad I found it (HT Owlhaven). Katherine wrote awhile back about sheltering our children vs. giving them freedom as they grow and uses her own growing up as an example. I hope you find the article as encouraging and insightful as I did.
Crying to the Cable Guy July 30, 2009
Well, with a frantic week of work, activities, heat, and hormones, my resolve about writing every day flew right out the window. Didn’t it? And I am sorry about that. So here I am, picking myself up, dusting my keyboard off, and climbing back into the blog saddle again.
What I want to write about is tomorrow. Because tomorrow a very little thing is happening that is going to make very big changes in our home. I’m both thrilled to the tips of my toes and scared to death. Tomorrow, the cable guy is coming. We have a torturous two-hour window time frame. If you hear a high pitched keening wail between 4:30 and 6:30 PM Pacific Time, it’s likely me watching the cable man shut off all our channels, packing up our DVR, and taking it with him — stopping to block our line on his way out.
Yup. We’re giving up TV.
Now don’t get me wrong. We are going to still have a DVD player and a handful of hand-picked videos to watch on it (what would life be without an occasional episode of 3-2-1 Penguins, I ask you??). And I know there are plenty of shows you can watch online. But we are severely limiting the ease of access to these things and I’m really quite thrilled about it all.
When I can think through the panic.
It’s not a monetary issue. The money we save will be nice for sure. But it’s an issue of value. We were paying for a whole lot of stuff that we loathe and a whole bunch of other stuff we didn’t want at all to get a limited few things that we sort of enjoyed sometimes.
The main adjustment will be for my son and I know that’s going to be hard for us. But frankly, I’m looking forward to that, too. I’m looking forward to my default NOT being turning on an “educational” baby sitter while I finish the dishes.
I’m going to have to plan my days better, build in longer times to get things done with his help, and I have a feeling I’m going to have a LOT more conversations in which the other participant responds only with one word, “Why?”
And hopefully, a month from now, it’ll be really normal and I won’t remember what it was I thought I’d miss about having channels.
But in the meantime…would it be SO bad if I walked crying through the courtyard and waved goodbye to the cable guy?
Seeing and Being Seen July 25, 2009
When she was a senior in high school, my mom was nominated for and then won the Miss Elsinore contest in the little town she grew up in. She went on to get a runner-up slot in the Miss Riverside contest that same year. I remember being agog at the fact that my very own, every day, utterly normal (only in a kid’s eyes!) mom was a beauty queen! I would press her for all sorts of details and was constantly left a little disappointed because she seemed so completely uninterested in it all. She would say things like, “Well, it wasn’t ME on that stage. I had on 10 pounds of make-up!” and “Oh I hated that picture…but you know, I DID get to leave class one day for that photo shoot and that was pretty fun.”
The first time what she was saying to me really started to make sense was when I was a teen. I’d brought the story up again and begged her to drag out the photos and she told me a few details of that week to make me happy. “Mom, were you SO popular then?” She laughed. “Well, I had a date every day that next week!” The thought of it made my toes positively curl with glee. “And did any of them end up being your boyfriend?” “Oh, love, NO. No. They didn’t want to go on a date with ME. They wanted to go out on a date with Miss Elsinore. To say they’d gone out to dinner with the local beauty queen.”
And there, plainly, was the crux of the matter. Mom did not feel like, when she won that contest, it was based on real things. She did not feel that she had been really seen. She didn’t feel that it really had anything to do with who she really was at all. Any real piece of her that had been there for judging had been slathered under pounds of stage makeup.
When I fell in love with my husband, I barely remembered how to put makeup on. It was in 2001 at the tail end of my mother’s first bout with cancer. It had been a grueling year and I felt stripped of artifice of any kind. When we met I wasn’t looking for a relationship at all — I was utterly unprepared to be charming or beautiful or socially acceptable. I was in a stage of my life where I grossed people out inadvertently by just explaining the day-to-day basics of our lives. What we found funny at home other people in non-cancer world did not find funny. When people asked, “How are you?” I couldn’t gracefully tell anymore whether they really wanted to know or if they were just asking because that was how conversation was supposed to go and the next line was supposed to be “Oh, fine thank you! And you?”
I remember walking toward Ryan one night at a little dive we used to go to after coming out of the ladies room and realizing that for the first time of any that I could think of when he looked over and saw me and lit up with a smile, he was smiling at me. All my cracks and dings and rawness were right there in front of him and he was delighted to have me coming over to slide back into the seat across from him. As much as I loved him for so many wonderful things, I loved him for that.
There is something, I think, about being laid bare, recognized for who you are, and loved in the face of it all.
This is, in the end, what makes the love of my Savior so intoxicating and breathtaking when I stop in day-to-day business and ponder him.
Think about it: There are stars in the sky so far away that our very strongest telescopes can only pick them out as specks of light in the vast distance. Yet our physical beings are determined by 25,000 human genes that were not fully mapped until less than a decade ago and are contained in such microscopic detail that no human eye could ever decipher them without powerful aid. Romans 1 declares that what can be known of God has been made plain to men and that His eternal power and divine nature are clearly seen in the things that have been made. What creation tells us is that our God is unfathomable. He is greater than we can even begin to comprehend.
With the greatest of care and imagination He knit each of us together in our mothers’ wombs. He named us before we had names. He knew us before we could be known by any other being and knew us more fully than we even know ourselves. Every hidden dark place, every decision made wrong, every hatred, every cheat, every selfishness, every slight given was before his eyes when he then chose to love us with a deep, never-ending, fierce, perfect love. He holds back nothing in that love. Nothing at all was too great a sacrifice — not even the cross.
If, tonight, you are needing to feel love — ponder on this for awhile. As unlovable as you may feel you are loved beyond what you can possibly imagine. If you are God’s and springing to the front of your mind is “Yes but you don’t know what I…” — I can tell you that no matter how you finish that sentence, no matter how dark the ending, God knows and he loves you anyway. If you acknowledge him, if you love him, if the darkness of the things you keep tight in your heart make you understand your need for the cross and, therefore, thankful for it then I can assure you that He knows and loves you still with a love that makes all things good and new. He sees you and He has allowed himself to be seen.
I’m just a little bit agog about all of this tonight and so I thought I’d share. Maybe now my brain will quiet down enough for me to sleep.
Buzzy Bees and Gargening Again…FINALLY! July 21, 2009
Tomorrow I’m heading over to break ground at my new garden site — the back yard of a family friend. It’s closer to us (less than a mile), has an enclosed yard, and is one block from the beach: A good treat for my son when he’s been with me as I garden. I have a rototiller to put together and beds to measure out and I just simply MUST put in my tomatoes which have been languishing in pots outside our apartment for three weeks now.
Is this odd? I’m approaching this with much trepidation. Getting started on a garden is just so much work. But at the same time, I’m thrilled to death to get going on it. It’s been a long time coming and my fingers are itching for soil. My final inspiration was sitting in our living room last night after the tomatoes were watered. I could smell them and the window fan was actually pulling the scent of them into the room on cool air after the heat of the day. The ache for green is officially irresistible!
I’ll dig out my box of seed tomorrow and figure out what to start, as well. Although we’re in a weird month to start growing. I’ll have to pull up my old planting charts for this area, as well.
Before and after pictures will come, of course.
Last night as I finished up some work before bed, I listened to my husband and son in my son’s room. My husband had gone in to cuddle him before he went to sleep. The conversation went like this:
“I love you, Buddy.”
“I love you, too, Honey.”
“Hey! I’m not your honey!”
“Oh yes you aaaarrree!”
“I’m not your honey…I’m daddy!”
“NO! Your my honey!” (Accompanied by the beginnings of giggles.)
“Oh yeah? Well…do you know who LOVES honey??”
“Who?”
“BEES!”
And then there was the most screechingly delightful round of tickles giggles and belly laughs heard in recent history. The perfect lullaby.
I am tremendously, infinitely, completely blessed.
The Art of Hospitality July 10, 2009
Over at the Girl Talk blog by the Mahaney ladies, there is a new series running on hospitality.
As many times as I’ve read the book of 1 Peter (and I’ve read it a LOT because I got assigned to read it every day for a month because I needed to understand what was in there a LOT but that’s a whole other post that my ego will have to retreat a bit more for me to write!) I never really stopped to consider that very clear little directive in 4:9, “show hospitality to one another.” In other words, not “if your house happens to be clean and you don’t need a nap…” or, “if you feel called in this way,” or “if you’re particularly gifted in this way…” Nope. You need to do it.
The list of women and families who have shown me hospitality and blessed me through it is endless. I honestly don’t think I could go back through and write out a list of all the people who have reached out to me over the years and shown me love not just in though but in deed, out of their resources and time. The list, on the other hand, of people to whom I’ve reached out in the same manner is sadly short. I want to change this!
So, when I read the first post in the series on hospitality, I was delighted. I mean, how could a girl like me NOT love an opening like this:
“I used to think that hospitality was for certain, uniquely gifted women who “got into that sort of thing.” You know the type: she has three lasagnas in the freezer, a roast and potatoes in the crockpot, cookies in the oven and coffee just brewed. Her table is always graced with fresh-cut hydrangeas from her garden—even in the dead of winter (or so it seems). She’s never happier than when a few strays show up unannounced for dinner, except of course, when a family of seven comes to stay for the week.
Me, well I panic when an extra guest shows up for dinner. My hydrangeas barely bloom in spring, and I think the chicken in my freezer has a frosty coat. Oh, and the coffee? I drank that already.”
Ahem.
I think this is going to be an infinitely helpful and inspiring series and I’m really looking forward to the rest of it. If you’ve never come across this blog before, check them out. They are constantly practical, insightful, godly and inspiringly feminine.
Family Feasts for $75 a Week – A Review July 8, 2009
Author: Mary Ostyn
Price: $17.95 US
I was all set last night to sit down and write my thorough praises of Mary Ostyn’s new book, Family Feasts for $75 a Week, when my husband blithely reviewed the book better than I could have in pages with one sentence:
As I sat cackling over the money I’ve saved since reading a pre-publication copy of this book a month ago I said to Ryan, “I can’t believe how much money we’ve saved this month! I’ve cut our budget by 50% and I think I could easily go lower if we needed to.” To which he replied, “That’s insane, because we have been eating really well recently, too!” High praise coming from a man whose own mother (an amazing cook) dubbed him The Food Diva several years back when he commented on the amount of carrots she’d used in a favorite dish of his when we were home visiting for Christmas.
In case you aren’t already heading out to pre-order a copy of the book based just on that, let me elaborate just a little. Because if you’re anything like me you might be thinking, “Come on, seriously. Do we really need another book on how to save money on groceries and inexpensive recipes to feed our families? How many tater-tot casseroles with cheese whiz and Ritz cracker toppings can a girl try?”
If that’s you, I’m with yah sister. But let me just mention a couple of things.
- Delicious Recipes Suited to Any Skill Level: While Mary DOES mention tater tots once in her book it is only to tell you how much better homemade fries are. Not only that, but she upgrades the oven fries with her own homemade Ethiopian seasoning mix (and provides several other easy suggestions for seasonings if a mouth on fire is not your particular version of tasty). And all joking about those spuds aside, her recipes are seriously good, seriously easy and seriously cost effective.
In particular I must recommend her Thai chicken curry dish for which you can make your own curry paste and even your own coconut milk if you don’t have a can on hand but do have some shaved coconut in the freezer. Another favorite already is her suggested recipe for making your own granola cereal. (As I stood at the counter breaking up my first batch, chest swelled with pride, my husband gave me a smooch and seriously appreciative squeeze and raved about how amazing it was that I could make something like that all on my own. Sorry, Mary, I took that compliment for my own and didn’t re-mention the fact that I’d learned it from the book.) - Flexible Ideas on Cost Cutting that Allow You to Create Your Own Plan: One of the frustrating things about many books like these is that, in order for the system to work, you have to change a million things all at once and after about two weeks (for the very strong and enduring, perhaps three), the whole thing goes out the window because it’s just too hard to maintain so much change all at once. Mary, however, is very clear about her desire for readers not to make this mistake. Instead you’re given four areas in which you can assess your strengths and weaknesses and then a ton of ideas to choose from in each of those areas to begin the process. This book’s plan is laid out like an a la carte menu of great ideas that you can tailor fit to your needs and your money-saving goals.
I hate to admit it but I’m the queen of starting strong, getting over my head, and fizzling out completely on things. This is something I dislike about myself and have been working hard to overcome. But ladies, this process has been seriously painless so far and the benefits have far outweighed the effort. Oh and another thing? You don’t have to use coupons! (But you can if you need to do penance or something.) - An Easy and Interesting Read that Gets Right Down to the Issues and Lets You Start Saving Almost Immediately: I got this book on a Sunday. Inspired, I refused to go to the grocery store until Wednesday because I could see in my own kitchen several different great meals I could already make with things I had in the house. During that time I was able to use small portions of my time each day to figure out what changes I could make, lay out my plan, and embark. Holding on to just a few of the ideas I’d found in the book I set out my first week and was delighted with every grocery receipt I collected because I knew I was making wiser decisions already.
I am torn between a desire to be completely honest about improvements to our grocery budget because it’s so amazing and wanting to hide from shame about how easily I have saved so much in my first month of using Family Feasts for $75 a Week. I have literally saved several hundred dollars this month. I thought at first that I was unique in how much waste was happening in our home but a few conversations with friends let me know that I am certainly not alone. Some of my joking, if I’m honest, is to distract from the fact that it was painful to realize just how much room for improvement there was. I found myself in tears at one point as I worked through my new budgeting plan and list of easy changes – it was a mixture of regret over the waste I could now see over the last 5 years of my marriage and relief to have found in Mary’s advice a workable, helpful and thorough means by which to improve so drastically.
In Titus 2, Paul admonishes older women to come alongside younger women and, among many other important things, train them in the ways of their home. Mary has shared the resulting wisdom of years of experience, trial, error and success in this new book and it’s a fantastic boon to those of us who still have a lot of learning to do. In future I plan on giving this book for wedding shower presents so that my friends can start out ahead of the game in feeding their families well on a frugal but flexible budget.
I could not recommend Family Feasts for $75 a Week more highly.
A Monument to Joy in Loss July 7, 2009
When we knew my mom was dying — really dying and soon — family began to pour in to see her at the hospital as we waited for hospice to be set up so she could come home. We still thought that perhaps we had a few weeks with her but there was a certain urgency in my heart to say something to her. To say…what? I thought a lot about the things that people say in deathbed scenes in books and movies and on TV. So many people feel the need to plead for forgiveness for that last wrong they thought of, that last hurt that had gone buried all those years, to confess, to clear the air, to leave no potential stone of regret unturned at the end. I felt no need for any of that with my mom at her deathbed.
Throughout the Old Testament you read about the people of Israel raising monuments as reminders to themselves and all who observed them of the glorious things God had done for them and through them. In the beginning of the book of Joshua, after 40 years in the wilderness, the people of Israel finally were able to cross the Jordan and enter into their promised land. The first thing they did after crossing over the Jordan was take 12 stones, one for each tribe of the people, and build a monument with them. Joshua instructed them to do this so that when their children asked what the stones meant, the people would be reminded to tell the children of God’s mighty work of stopping up the waters of the over-filled Jordan so that his people might pass safely on dry ground.
On the one hand, it’s sort of funny to think that a people would need a monument to remember a story like that. You know? HOW could you forget seeing the water piled up on itself as Scripture said it was, waiting for you to cross into the new home you’d been waiting your whole life to reach? It’s preposterous! Well, it’s funny and preposterous until you stop and take a good look at the frailty of your own memories and how they can be changed so easily and quickly sometimes.
We’re told later on that the people fell into sin and disarray almost immediately and that it was because they did not teach their children to remember the mighty ways of what God had done to deliver them. They did not remember themselves.
And can’t you hear it? Imagine, say, even fifteen years later, how the story might have been twisted at first. ”Daddy, really did God stop up the water? Did it really pile up so high while you crossed over that it was taller than your head??” “Oh son, I was so young then and so small! Why, I was shorter than you are now. So perhaps the water seemed very high but…” ”Oh son, it was so long ago. But the water was very shallow. Perhaps it had been a dry season that year and we were so releaved to cross over that it seemed as if the very hand of God stopped the water and dried out the sand…”
But no. No that was not how the story went at all. And the people all together that first day lay those stones and all acknowedged the supernatural greatness of what had been done by their mighty God. They acknowledged it together so that later together they could help each other remember how it really happened and so that they could continue to praise their mighty God and teach their children to praise him as well.
And so this is the monument I want to raise — a monument to the joy I was allowed while losing my mother, because of the God she loved and served and who I love and serve as well. I nearly lost this memory, it very nearly got changed in the telling, and so I want to preserve it here now.
This was the last real conversation I had with my mom:
Sitting and holding her hand while my dear husband looked on, I was able to tell her thank you for her love and for the fact that I did not feel the need to beg forgiveness for anything. It was not my own perfection that allowed me to feel this. Rather, I felt no need to beg because I knew that forgiveness had been freely and openly given already and I rested in the peace of that — thankful, so very thankful that because of that forgiveness I could simply bask in her love and my own love for her.
I hurt my mother deeply through the 29 years of my life with her. Sometimes I hurt her unintentionally and sometimes I did it very intentionally. Sometimes I did not mean to be ugly and sometimes I was ugly just to feel the power of the effect it had on her. I was, indeed, sometimes that kind of daughter. And we did have wonderful, sweet times together — they far outnumbered the bad times. But they did not make up for the bad times at all. There was real and deep hurt there. But Christ went deeper still.
And so sitting there wanting badly to say the right last things, the most important last things, I found that all there was in my heart was love and thanks and more love and more thanks and a whole lot of expectation for the time when, after I spend the whole rest of my earthly life missing her, I would get to see her again as we worshipped at Jesus’ throne. And so that’s what I told her and she understood me perfectly.
You see, my mom knew herself before a perfectly righteous and just God. She knew herself to be a sinner. She didn’t think that, on her own merit, she would someday stand before His throne and hear “You did good, kid. We’ll call it even.” In fact she had a sense of her own sin that was so sincere that it seemed sometimes ridiculously out of proportion to the sweetness and the love we all knew from her. But because she wasn’t comparing herself to the rest of the world but rather to her perfect Savior, she knew keenly that she fell short. And that made the love and forgiveness she found at the foot of His cross so precious to her. It was so precious, so powerful, so all-encompassing in its enormity that it changed her utterly and it made her like Him. And because she was learning to be like Him I found in my mother love and forgiveness and tenderness and self-sacrifice all wrapped in real joy that taught me about Him, too.
And so, at the end of that confession of all that was in my heart to her, do you know what my mom said? She didn’t deny that there were things that had had to be forgiven. She acknowledged that all of what I’d said and known of her heart was true. And then she told me that she was proud of me because she could see the fruit of Jesus’ love for me in my life and that other people had shared with her that they could see His work in me, too. And she told me that she loved me. And we cried — a lot.
It was the best deathbed confession I could have possibly come up with, only it wasn’t contrived. It was what was in our hearts and it was real.
You might wonder why I’m writing about this now, almost a year and a half later.
Over the course of a few months this last year my memory of this time with my mom began to change a bit. What I remembered were the parts of what I’d said to her about having no regrets to come to her with. Somehow my memory changed and left out the parts that had to do with our mutual knowledge of God’s forgiveness in our lives. I didn’t remember at all her response to me. Rather, what remained in my mind became a picture of me blithely and somewhat insensitively refusing to acknowledge the full picture of our relationship together and insisting that it had been good enough for me to have no regrets. I started to cringe at myself. I no longer thought of that time with her at the end with peace in my heart and it started to color all of the other memories of that sweet and painful time of loss over the next few days before she went home. Suddenly, where there had been none before, I had regret.
God is faithful where our memories are not and one day in my kitchen I paused over a counter I was scrubbing and was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to remember what she’d said to me. WHAT had she said to me when I’d so calously informed her that I had nothing at all to be sorry for? I paused and closed my eyes and forced myself to think through the hot shame that this partial memory brought and remember what she’d said in response to me…she said…that in me she could see the work of Jesus.
And the rest of it came flooding back.
Oh what relief to see that whole picture again! Jesus! He is mighty to save. He is faithful to forgive. He lives and pleads for me! HE was the reason we had no regret. HE was the reason losing her was suffused with joy. HE was the reason, He was the topic, He is our mighty God.
When I read the story of Isreal and their monument at the Jordan I though to myself, “I must raise one of my own.”
Here it is.
God brought me over the trecherous river of my faulty memory safely and reminded me of the joy and peace only He could give.
Truly, He is my Rock and He is my salvation.
