Mom’s been gone for a long while now. It saddens me to recall the last ten years of her life because we watched her lose the ability to hear, see, interact, or engage in daily life. Yet this morning I remember beyond that to a moment when she stepped out of her own imperfect reality to connect with her eldest child. And that would be me!
At the time, I hadn’t seen my fiance who was stationed with the army on the border between North and South Korea for nine months. I was lonely, but tried not to mope around and make things difficult for my friends and family, especially mom. Mother worked full-time, was still raising my 8 and 13 year-old sisters, and she was dealing with forced menopausal stuff as a result of a hysterectomy.
One Wednesday night while we sat together waiting for choir practice to start, she turned and asked, “Do you miss Richard?”
“I just feel like half my heart is cut out all the time.” It was quite a dramatic response to her simple inquiry, but she didn’t laugh at me. I remember the sad look in her eyes. She squeezed me hand. And then it was over. The choir director called us to rehearse.
God knew that I needed my mother’s love and validation that night. He nudged her to ask me that pointed question. She accepted my spontaneously honest answer and I felt understood and comforted.
This memory reminds me of 2 Corinthians 4:7, “We carry this precious Message [God's loving gift of Jesus] around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives.” (The Message) None of us–whether we’re mothers or daughters or both–have perfect situations, spiritual lives, or emotions, yet God still reaches others through us. Don’t you love that?
What meaningful imperfect mom-memory do you have this Mother’s Day?