Monday, May 14, 2018

Mother’s Day Reflection


Another Mother’s Day has come and gone. I enjoy seeing the FaceBook and Instagram posts of friends sharing in family festivities. I love seeing all the smiles. I can almost smell the adorning bouquets of spring flowers. Kids surrounding Mothers and Grandmothers with hugs and homemade signs and handcrafted gifts. Holiday scenes reminiscent of a Hallmark movie. A sweet simple story crafted with a delightful, most always, predictable, happy ending. Who doesn’t like the occasional feel-good Hallmark movie? I certainly do.
Mother’s Day can be more complicated for some. Images gather in the mind's eye. A picture of a woman. A flashback to a moment. A memory of a private place where only you and she dwell. Recollections that can cause grief or pain. Sadness grips the heart of the one whose mother has passed from this life. Resentment fills the heart of the one who has experienced mom's rejection. Hurts flood the heart of the one neglected by maternal abandonment. Wounds wander through the heart of the one damaged by abuse. The comparisons and questions inevitably come. “What if”, or “I wish”, or ‘If only”, clutters the mind of the one who is in need of a healing in the Mother-Child relationship status.

Longings surface. At least they did for me. For a time, the very word “Mother” tangled my heart. The loss of what “should have been” plagued me. I had resolved to forgive. I had determined to accept. I had committed to the work of restoration. I had hope for reconciliation. Yet there was an empty place in need of a mother’s touch on my heart. In those years, yearning marked the day set aside for prescribed happiness.

It was in this state of longing that I happened to attend a Christian women’s conference. The speaker was sharing her childhood experiences. Though our circumstances were different I could relate. I recognized the wanting. She directed us to Mark 3:31-35. Jesus is at the beginning of his ministry speaking to a crowd near his hometown. There were rumors. Had he “lost his senses”? His mother Mary and his brothers sent word for him to come out. Hearing this, Jesus responds with a poignant question; Who are my mother and my brothers? He answers,“Anyone who does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother”. In an instant I found clarity. At once, I understood. There were mothers all around me in the family of God.

Longings surface. At least they did for me. For a time, the very word “Mother” tangled my heart. The loss of what “should have been” plagued me. I had resolved to forgive. I had determined to accept. I had committed to the work of restoration. I had hope for reconciliation. Yet there was an empty place in need of a mother’s touch on my heart. In those years, yearning marked the day set aside for prescribed happiness.


It was in this state of longing that I happened to attend a Christian women’s conference. The speaker was sharing her childhood experiences. Though our circumstances were different I could relate. I recognized the wanting. She directed us to Mark 3:31-35. Jesus is at the beginning of his ministry speaking to a crowd near his hometown. There were rumors. Had he “lost his senses”? His mother Mary and his brothers sent word for him to come out. Hearing this, Jesus responds with a poignant question; Who are my mother and my brothers? He answers,“Anyone who does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother”. In an instant I found clarity. At once, I understood. There were mothers all around me in the family of God.

Decades have passed since that profound realization freed my heart. On Mother’s day, I remember the special God-honoring women who willingly invested in my life. These faithful servants listened, cared and spoke truth into my wounds. Each one helped my heart to heal. Beautiful women who taught me to recall the one woman, my mother, who resides in the recesses of my mind, through the eyes of grace.

Monday, May 7, 2018

Birthday Reflections


On this, my 61st birthday, I am more than thankful for another candle on my imaginary cake.  And while I don’t enjoy the attention or share much personally on social media, today, I feel compelled to give PRAISE to the Lord who is the giver and sustainer of life.  Last year at this time, I was recovering from a cardio angiogram and wearing a “Life Vest” aka, an external defibrillator.  While I learned that I did not have any arterial blockages to my heart, I was diagnosed with heart disease called VT (ventricular tachycardia).  

The summer became all about my heart.  Suddenly everything changed for me, my family and my ministry. It was s-t-r-e-s-s-f-u-l and s-c-a-r-y every time the alarm on my life vest sounded.  I was weak. I was tired.  I was sad.  I had been so looking forward to turning 60!  After decades of chronic autoimmune illnesses and overcoming a number of close calls through the years, to be 60 was a milestone I wanted to celebrate.  I canceled my party.  I became acutely aware of every heartbeat.

I had convinced myself that 60 was going to be my year. I had plans.  I would transition into my “golden” years with style and a zest for all that was ahead!  I would do all “those things” that the busyness and urgency of life had prevented me from doing until 60. I would carve out time. I would be more intentional. I would drop those extra pounds (again).  I would get in better shape.  I would enjoy this stage of my life even with my existing limitation. 

Proverbs 16:9 says, “The mind of man plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps.”  And so He did mine.  I spent much of my time last summer, sitting in my backyard. I saw the mountains framed by the bright blue sky.  I witnessed the monsoon rain cleanse the desert. I enjoyed the freshly planted grass while watching the hummingbirds and butterflies grace my garden.  I spent time with precious friends who sat with me for hours because I could not be alone.  I had delicious meals made by loving hands.  I experienced the compassion of my adult children who cared for me and drove me wherever I need to go.  I was again reminded why I married my beloved husband, who never flinched in his commitment to love me even after years of doctors and hospital visit and more medical bills.  

In creation and kindness, I saw God all around me.  I began to feel restored in my spirit. I felt joy again.  He, Himself, was my portion.  His presence was enough.  It is enough.  I now have a heart monitor implanted in my chest.  When I am awake at 2:00 a.m. I see the bright light on the machine next to my bedside go off when it transmits my heartbeats to the cardiologist's office.  My good doctor reminds me not to be afraid because he is watching.  I appreciate his care but I know who has numbered my days.

So today, the first of my 61st year, I have only one plan: to Follow the One who holds my heart full of praise in His hands.  It is a Happy Birthday.