My mom filled me up.  Where I had doubts and insecurities and cracks in my soul, my mom was the caulking.  When I came to her with fears she allayed them.  She didn’t solve, but encouraged.   Of anyone in the entire world I knew, my mom loved me the most fully and unconditionally.  I knew that if life deemed me a failure, my mom wouldn’t.  Let me say that one more time, If the whole world saw me as a failure, my mom wouldn’t.  She saw me.  She loved me.

What a gift.

When she got sick (with cancer) I took care of her and loved her.  After four long, trying, ugly, and beautiful years, our separation as earthly beings came.

I painted her nails a few days before she died while she was unconscious in the hospital.  They were chipped and needed to be done.  It was something we always did together up on her bed, just enjoying time together.  Those simple moments of doing our nails together while chatting were some of the most easy and comfortable of my life.

I can still see the exact shade of taupe I painted them and feel how her hands were becoming stiff as she began to journey on.  The consolations of this world were becoming nothing…

When my mom was here I held tight to her and the love she gave me.  It was unconditional and totally unique in my life.  I didn’t think love like that could exist anywhere else.

I wrote a song soon after her death, trying to get out the feelings I had about her absence.  The chorus went “and for me you were my anchor to the land“.  With her gone, I felt adrift.

A year after her death I married my husband Kevin and then our children came along one by one.  But that feeling of not quite having a handle on life, even though outwardly to most I looked great, persisted.

Seven years after my mom died we moved to Vermont.  It was a ginormous leap for me, completely out of my element, away from a large extended family and friends.

But, God had me right where he wanted me.  I finally was stripped down and ready to be re-made.

Kevin, the kids (2 boys at the time with one on the way) and I lived with my in laws for two years and depended on them as Kevin looked for permanent work and we saved for a house.  I was humbled and searching for a new way of doing life, because I saw that my old way just wasn’t cutting it.

Bit by bit, without my pride, I began to rely on God.

And here I am today, getting past my nervousness of what you might think, of being uncool, pigeon holed, or just weak, to share how it helped me.

I remember thinking that belief in Jesus/God was a crutch, for weak people.

But the thing is attempting to control my life was an effort in futility, it caused anxiety, fear, anger when things didn’t go the way I wanted.  The weight of the world was continually on my shoulders -even if that weight was just a day when a birthday party was planned and everything was not falling into place.

Handing over the reigns of my life was not easy.  My pride got in the way, fear.  But when I did, faith brought me peace and not being in charge became if not anything else, well exciting (as in what’s going to happen next?!).  And when I am humble (that toilet that I just can’t seem to keep clean with our hard water and many sons, or have a bad day when I am less than I hope to be) there is more space for communion with others.  When I am seen as imperfect, as hard as that can be sometimes, the fruit of it is being more available to others, or a simple reminder that being imperfect is ok.

In my weakness God makes me strong.

And after 13 years, I’ve found that love that my mom so decadently poured upon me during her life.  It is humble and true, real and unconditional.  I could give you all sorts of examples, but I will just say that God’s love and the love it brings out in me has become my anchor.

I can’t wait to see my mom again someday, it’s true.  But I’m thankful to have found her love alive and well today and I’ll follow it wherever it might lead.

~L