This is one of my favorite photos of my mom and me, taken in 1979 when I was four years old. The clothes are hideous, I'm not going to lie. And, believe it or not, those glasses were actually quite stylish then. My mom was, and will always be, the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
I love this photo because it shows the everyday-ness of being a mom - trying to carry on a conversation with other adults when your four-year-old daughter needs to be comforted about something. Being a mom isn't glamorous or easy. It requires self-sacrifice. And my mom was always there when I needed to be comforted. Always.
Two years ago, I spent my last Mother's Day with my mom. She had already lost so much to ALS and dementia, but it was a good day. She sat next to me on the couch and kept playing with my hair and rubbing my back. Even though her body and mind were failing her, she still wanted to be my mom. She wanted to comfort me when she was the one who should have needed comforting. That was Mom.
She was wearing a pretty ring that day - just costume jewelry with a pearl and fake diamonds, but I remarked about how pretty it was. Before we left, she took the ring off her finger and pressed it into my hand. She couldn't tell me what she wanted, and I tried to give it back to her. She shook her head and closed my fingers around the ring. "Mom, do you want me to keep this?" I asked. She smiled and nodded. She had lost so much but wanted the joy of giving me something. That was also Mom.
Twelve short days later, she was in heaven with my dad. And I was an orphan.
No, I didn't have to grow up without a mom. She was my biggest cheerleader, teacher, confidant, and, of course, comforter. She gave the best pep talks and advice. She was an incredible example to me of grace, strength, and unconditional love.
My mom had a chance to hold my babies and stay with us for a week after each of them was born. She came to baseball games, piano recitals, band concerts, and a few 8th grade track meets. She was there for Stefan's baptism and 8th grade graduation. But not Lukas'.
So Mother's Day comes with mixed emotions now. I can truly celebrate the fact that I had an amazing mother who added so much to my life. I am incredibly grateful for the gift of my children and the blessing of being their mom.
But I am sad for them and sad for myself, for the memories we won't get to have with my mom and everything that feels unfair about that.
I know she's in heaven, healed and whole, and I thank God for that. I really do. But I want her to be there for my kids' graduations. I won't have any memories of her helping me prepare for their open houses. She won't see them in their prom tuxes, will never meet their girlfriends, and will be painfully absent at their weddings. She'll never hold their babies. How she loved babies!
It's hard to be a mom without my mom. I want to ask her how she felt when her first child went off to college, and see the pride in her eyes when Stefan takes first in his track event. I want to sit next to her when Lukas pitches in a baseball game, because she knows what it's like to be the nervous mom of the high school pitcher. I miss her wise counsel, her willingness to tell it like it was, her gentle spirit. I miss being able to lean on her.
And so, for every other mom out there who is in this place this Mother's Day, I want you to know you are not alone. I get it. And I hope it helps to know someone else understands. Let's lift each other up in prayer this weekend, as sisters who share a special understanding.
"As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you..." -Isaiah 66:13
