Monday, August 24, 2015

My mom was Jesus to me.


Something my daughter said to me this morning, made these thoughts run through my heart and mind about my own mom.  My mom won't hear these thoughts, I am having about her now, because she has gone home, really home, to be with Jesus.  Maybe one day I will tell her, or maybe she just already knows.

I remember as a child, being so angry with her, I sat on our back porch steps blessing her out.  I found out years later, in confessing this to her that she was watching me from a nearby window.

I remember the day my dad had to shoot my dog.  I rode off from the house crying my heart out only to return to my mom and hearing her say...it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

I remember a man being at our house.  My mom thought he was going to hurt me in some way.  She took a shot gun and ran him off.

I remember her telling me she wanted to be my friend like my girlfriends mom.  I said I need you to be my mom.

I remember not going home, like I should and her standing at the doorway waving goodbye with tears in her eyes, never demanding anything of me.

I remember taking money from her once and telling her years later, only to hear she knew it.

I remember writing her letters and leaving them under my bed.  She never mentioned them to me but they were always gone when I would return.

I remember how she always knew what was going on inside me even when I didn't share.

I remember when she was sick and I stayed with her for nights and days until I was exhausted.  I left my mom and her response still is with me.  They would not take her off life support but my sister says that is when my mom died inside.  My counselors said I kept her hanging on and it was a good thing I left her for her.

There have been years I have grieved and regretted so much with my mom and how I loved her.  But one thing I know, even though imperfect she did know I loved her.

I remember the chocolate cakes and pies she would have when I returned home from school.  How we watched soap operas and how I would warm my feet in the mornings for school over the floor furnace as she made breakfast.

I remember her trying to curl my hair with bobby pins and the hats and gloves I would wear.  Then years later when I was the one who did her hair.

I remember her becoming my best friend.  She found such pleasure in my success and pain in my defeats, although I really don't think she ever saw them.  I was always a success to her.

She was so beautiful to me.  I remember how she always looked her best.  Hand bags and purses to match.

I remember tasting the wines at the local grocery store and going home and cooking steaks with dad, laughing all the way.

I remember praying and reading scripture with her and talking about Jesus love for her.

I remember as she would play games with the kids and loved them being home and how they would laugh together.

I remember the holidays and the bowl games that we all shared.

I remember the talks we would have about her childhood and eating biscuits and syrup because their were nothing else.  How the state tried to take my grandmothers children from her because she had no money.

I remember my moms strength but her humility and her weakness.

I remember her funeral, when there were many stories about what my mom had done for others and no one ever knew.

My mom was Jesus to me.  She was the first taste I had at unconditional love.  She didn't teach me much about the bible she lived it.  She raised me to be in church, to love God and love others.  She was the most sacrificial person I have ever known.  I hated it when she suffered and loved it when she would laugh.  She was the most influential person in my life in giving me a love for Jesus that keeps me pressing on and sharing His love for me.  I know Him because I knew her.  I know His forgiveness because she thought there was nothing to forgive.  She just loved me.

So as the tears flow and stream down my cheeks, I don't even really know why I wrote this but for you and for me and for my own children.   For the love of my mom to keep making a difference in friends and parents lives.  Our children are who we live in front of them.  My mom did not know theology but she knew Jesus.  She knew love and she knew me and loved me at my worse.  So men, hang on to your wife,  Moms hang on to your kids, Friends hang on to each other, God is not done.  Keep hope and love and charity alive in your lives.  There will come a day when we will all share and rejoice over each other and Gods love for us.  All suffering and pain and tears will be gone.  But until that day, may we be Jesus to those we love and in our everydays...Thank you for giving me my mom Lord, to love me and give me somethings that nothing can take away.  The love of a mother.