Surviving Mother's Day 🌸

Mother's Day.  The day all of us moms look forward to with anticipation. Or at least used to. The day our kids call to say "Hey, thanks, Mom! Thanks for bringing me into the world, for loving me, taking care of me, for being that unconditional support system that every child needs." There is something special about your mom. Dads are awesome too, of course, but let's face it.  Your mom is your mom. My husband watches a lot of war documentaries and one thing they say over and over again is how common it would be to hear the men, in their pain or at the end of their lives, calling out for their mothers. 

My mom was the bomb. She was hilarious and kind.  She didn't offer a bunch of unnecessary advice.  She never made us feel like we weren't enough or that we didn't measure up.  She just loved us for who we were and she enjoyed us. She raised us up and let us fly.  She always took our phone calls, and she listened.  She listened for as long as it took, and when we had successfully vented our feelings, she confirmed them. No lecture, just a confirmation that we were hurting or upset, and that she was on our side, no matter what. We obviously wanted her opinion at times, and she would give it. But she always gave it in a way that made you feel like you weren't being condemned.  

It's been 9 years since she left this world and went to her heavenly home, and I miss her every day. I miss that feeling of belonging and being loved completely and unconditionally. I miss the laughing. I miss the phone calls the most. Oh, how I wish I could call her now and talk through this awful grief of losing John.  There are not a lot of relationships that can handle a grieving mother's pain - except possibly another grieving mother. Who wants to take a phone call with a blubbering mess on the other end? How terribly uncomfortable. And what can you possibly say? Well, nothing. That's one of the reasons that grief is so lonely.

To carry a child in our womb is a God-given miracle that makes an irrevocable bond between mother and child. To have the bond ripped away by death, in a moment, is just not something that we mothers know how to deal with.  It is, as I've said before, un-natural.  I've read a lot of articles and blog posts about losing a child and the changes it brings.  Just this morning I read a post about how grief rewrites your address book. There are just too many friends and acquaintances that don't know how to deal with it, so they shy away. On the flip side, there are new addresses penned in that same address book.  Those are your grief friends.  They understand the storms of grief. They understand the "public face" and private desperation.  They understand the beast that is grief, how it comes and goes when it chooses and where it chooses. How it cannot, will not be contained or postponed when it hits.  

Something as simple as a song can reduce you to rubble. Or conversations about kids. Simply listening to your friends talk about their kids can be overwhelming. As happy as us grievers are for you and the milestones that your kids are making, please understand that it forces us to think about what we have lost. And we honestly, at times, cannot help from being caught in the wave.  It's just as unexpected to us as it is for you. We might just have to get up and walk away for a bit. We'll be back, just please, be patient.  

Last week, I sat at a table of young moms and listened to a lovely lady give a presentation on parenting. She did an amazing job - but what I wasn't ready for, was how every word about raising children battered away at the protective wall I've placed around my heart.  She spoke about hunting with her son, Xbox, trials of raising kids, how you don't take anything with you from this life but your people.  All true, all things I know, all things I agree with . . .but it was too much. Too much for this mamma's heart to sit through. I also know, to quote another friend, that you cannot accept all the credit or all the blame for how your children turn out. I'm grateful that there are families out there who have successfully raised happy and healthy children. But I also know that we live in a broken world and that not all our stories have happy endings.  

I don't want to be discouraging to young parents, but I also don't ever want a young mom to feel like she can completely control the outcome. That's far too much pressure to place on a parent. That wouldn't be fair. Why am I mentor mom at this stage of my grief you ask?  Good question. I'm still trying to come to terms with that myself.  It was literally all I could do to stay in my seat - to quiet the sobs and not embarrass the ladies next to me or the speaker. I managed to stay put, by the grace of God, when I wanted to run, but it left me unable to "pretend" for the rest of the day. At that point, if you're lucky, you just go home. I wasn't lucky that day.  I had to go to my part-time job and work for a few hours. My boss is learning to walk away and leave me alone if I can't make eye contact.  Bless his heart.

I can't look at John's picture, really look, without crying.  As much as I love his face. Lord, how I miss his face. His little friend Sascha, our German Shepherd, misses him too.  I wear his necklace around my wrist, and she usually gives it a smell and a lick at least once every day. I wonder what she thinks?  This morning, as I type, she heard me crying and she came over to the easy chair, put both front paws around my neck and looked into my eyes.  Then she gave my wet cheek a big lick as if to say, "I'm here for you. I understand and I am going to kiss away these tears". Thank the Lord for dogs. They really do make amazing best friends, don't they?

I hadn't really considered Mother's Day and what that was going to look like until last weekend. To be honest, I've thought more about it being my daughter's first Mother's Day, and how special that is. I thought about our little miracle baby, born on Christmas Day, just a little over a month after her uncle left us, and what a joy she is. How healing she is. I thought about spending my day with her, and my daughter, and until a friend mentioned it, I just hadn't really gone there with my thoughts. I feel so lucky to have my daughter's little family to run to, to hide out with, to love.

So, to all you bereaved parents out there, if you have any advice, it's welcome. Comment below or email me. So far my plan is the same as it is every day: Don't go out if I haven't slept. It's a recipe for disaster. Don't put myself into situations where I may combust - if I can help it. Continuously remember that John isn't in any pain, he isn't suffering, and he is happy and safe. Hug that grandbaby, enjoy her smiles and her little attempts at conversation, and enjoy my family. I will also be in continuous conversation with my Heavenly Father. Asking Him to give me strength, to go ahead of me and clear my path, to help me to be strong. 

I know all of you dear readers have pain. It might be physical, it might be a loss, maybe you want to be a mom and that hasn't worked out for you. We all struggle, but each struggle is unique and individual and very, very hard.  So, again, just know that you are not alone.  In fact, if you are a believer, Jesus left you with the Spirit. The Counselor, the Advocate, the Comforter.  He lives in you and you are literally never alone. Nothing on this earth can completely satisfy your heart, because you were not created for this broken world. You were created to live in a perfect world, walking side by side with the Author and Creator of your soul - the Heavenly Father.  

But sin entered the world, through a bad decision (Yes, I harp on bad decisions a lot), and we now live out each day under that curse of sin. But God. But God is a good Father, and He does not orchestrate chaos or disaster. He will allow it here on planet Earth though, as we all know. And for some of us, the answers aren't going to come until we meet Him face to face.  

The Bible, for the record, does NOT say that God won't give us more than we can handle. Nope. It's not in there.  I can't handle what I've been dealt. But I can survive it. I can endure it, with His help. I can look for ways that God is working in my life. I can have moments of joy. I can enjoy life and celebrate the happy moments, and I can live with this tremendous sadness. And I can look forward to that day where all the tears are wiped away, and we finally get to live in our true home, Heaven, reunited with our family in the faith that has gone on ahead.   

If you haven't asked Jesus into your heart, and you don't have the Spirit of the living God inside you, to help you and walk with you, please, accept the free gift of Eternal Life. Here is a short prayer that will walk you through it. And hey, make my day, let me know if you've made this life-changing decision. It's the most important decision you'll ever make. Be blessed dear ones. 

Image taken from Crosswalk.Com