Another Birthday

 

Another birthday today.

Another milestone crossed. She would be 39. While I had years with my mom and could write down memories of her, I can only imagine what Megan’s life today would look like. We all got robbed from having years together – as a daughter, sister, and friend. But we had 27 years together and we are grateful for many, many good times. She will never be forgotten.

All of us have someone we have lost, but will never forget – a spouse, a parent, a sibling, a child, a friend, a pet. It is healthy to remember and reflect on the time we had with those people. To laugh, shed a tear or two, to wonder – those emotions are healthy and keep us “real” in this hard life. I posed a question to my husband the other day, asking him how long it takes him to choke up when he thinks of Megan now, after almost 12 years. He thought for a minute and said it varied. He said some days he could remember and sigh and move on.  But other days those thoughts could strike a painful blow, like bad news you have heard for the first time. It was good to just talk about it. 

Most of us are the same. We get blind sighted by a random thought or memory. We might be busy with a project or a deadline but we take a breath and push through, but if we find ourselves with some time on our hands we might allow a few tears. I’m no grief counselor, but I say that is perfectly normal. When we push through, we are likely pushing those feelings down inside and as we all know, sooner or later they will find their way out – in a healthy way or not so healthy. I know because I’ve done both.

What is troublesome today as we try to manage through this pandemic, so many are not able to share the pain of loss with close family and friends. We are experiencing serious illness and death and we feel all alone in our sorrow, uncertain how to maneuver through. I am not sure I could have survived the 18-month illness of a child had I not had the love and support of family and friends who were much closer than 6 feet. Of all the times when we need closeness, now we are asked to stay apart. Take that lonely sorrow and grief and multiply it by 163,000 current deaths in the US alone and we have a great sadness that is impossible to measure. How do we comfort others? How do we share in their loss?

These disruptions in our normal routines and rhythms of everyday life contribute to the lingering unease and sadness that we are all feeling. Not only are we mourning the loss of thousands but we are also mourning the loss of normalcy, from seeing our co-workers to engaging in the mundane routines that we previously took for granted. 

I said earlier we got robbed of years together. But we did not get robbed of a future together. And I say that to all who are experiencing loss and disruptions today. The many millions of us.  Sometimes I must reach for Randy Alcorn’s book 50 Days of Heaven and reread to remind myself that we are all passing through this life. It is not our final home. Take me seriously. By thinking about Heaven, we don’t eliminate our pain, but as he says, “We can alleviate it and put it in perspective. We are reminded that suffering and death are only temporary conditions.”Alcorn says grasping what the Bible teaches about Heaven will shift our center of gravity and radically alter our perspective on life. It will give us hope, a word the apostle Paul uses 6 times in Romans 8.

So we have hope....because we know we have a future together.

 

 

Happy Birthday Mother!

Today is my mother's birthday. She would be 101 years old. I am always amused and fascinated when I look at this photograph of her because while I think it is pretty, it's not the mom who raised me. I don't ever remember her with dark hair, eye lashes,and red fingernails.  By the time I came along she was gray and farm work kept those nails to a short minimum. She wore glasses. The one memory consistent with the photo was her lipstick. I remember her wearing red lipstick every day - and I loved it.

This morning when I woke  my mind revisited all the things my mother could do. My mother could reupholster a sofa or chair. My mother could make draperies. She could kill and pluck a chicken - and then fry it. She could sing. She knew how to piece quilts - by hand. When babies were born, my mother would knit a hat or a pair of booties for a gift. She could make a meringue pie six inches high - well maybe four.

My mother (along with help from my dad) could plant a garden that supplied our food for an entire year. From asparagus to broccoli to zucchini - corn, tomatoes and potatoes - green beans and lima beans (my personal favorite - creamed please) all went into canning jars or freezer bags with enough left over to eat through the summer and give away too. She grew strawberries and rhubarb, not to mention blueberries later in her gardening career. I call her the first Martha Stewart.

My mother knew her Bible. Not only did she personally study on a daily basis, she taught Bible classes. She loved the missionary journeys of the apostle Paul and dreamed of one day going to the Holy Land. When we were there several years ago I often thought about her and wished that dream had come true for her. While she never traveled far, her love of studying mission work at church took her to faraway lands. 

 

Oh, Mom - I miss you.  

I wish you were here to make sense of all that is going on in the world today. You could teach me. You would have a perspective that I could fully trust. I wish you were here to see my children and grandchildren. You would make over them, spoil them, and love them like only a grandmother can do. I wish you were here to talk about the hard issues in life and how to find our way. You would hug me and have an answer. You would point me toward truth and hope. And while I will never pluck a chicken or reupholster a sofa, I pray I can be steadfast like you in my love of the Lord and those I hold close.

Happy Birthday!