Look Up

It was 4:00 in the morning when I left the hospital, and as I hit the first traffic light, the dam that had been holding back all of my fear, anger, and desperation crumbled into a million broken pieces. Tears coming from a depth beyond understanding carved slick rivers down my neck and pooled in my shirt.  I was aware my car was drifting between the painted lanes of the empty interstate, and I glanced for blue lights that would assume I was drunk.  My voice scraped raw as I screamed my questions to a moonlit sky, daring His promises to be kept.

Knowing my other little ones were tucked sleeping in a quiet house, and needing to do something tangible that felt productive, I pulled off into the only store open at this desperate time of morning.  Despite trying to slow my heaving sobs in the parking lot, hot drips still occasionally seeped from my stinging eyes as I wandered the empty aisles.  I chose a few items mindlessly, that I thought at the time would bring comfort, and I trudged my way to the lone check out stand with a flickering light.  A slight embarrassment prickled over me as I became aware of the frightening sight I must be with my blotchy face and swollen eyes.

The checker grabbed my things and began swiping them across the counter without looking up.   "How are you today?" he beamed. "I'm ok." "That's good," he replied.  He continued to ring up my things and take my payment without ever making eye contact. As I grabbed my bag and turned to leave, he swung the hammer one last time.  "Have a great rest of your day!" 

If you have spent much time around me, you may have noticed that often when someone asks me how I'm doing, I don't ask the same question back.  It may come across rude.  It is not because I don't care though, it is the exact opposite.  I don't ask because I either know that that person was just asking to be polite, and they don't really want the true answer from me, or because I know that I am not at a time or place I can truly give thought and caring to their answer.  I ask how someone is doing because I sincerely want to hear their heart, and not just the glossed over "I'm fine, how are you" that we all are guilty of giving sometimes.  I've learned to pick out the people who honestly want to hear how the real me is doing, and the people who would be completely uncomfortable if you let them see beyond the surface.

When I am standing in line at the grocery, I know that there may not be the time for me to be a listening ear to someone's bad day, but on the other hand I do not want to ignore the person in need of some encouragement. If I notice a rude or grumpy employee, I will leave them with an "I hope your day gets better."  They didn't have to share what is weighing on their mind that day, but they will know they are seen and given validation.  I will not ask you how you are doing or how your day has been unless I authentically have the heart to hear the good with the bad.  I'm ok with you taking the time to tell me what you are struggling with, and will not make you feel ashamed for not finding the good in a new day of life.  The truth is that life is hard, and we should stop conditioning each other to put on a brave face and pretend everything is fine. 

I challenge you to stop your robotic motion and your scripted lines, and look up.  There is a world out there of hurting people.  People who in the sticky messes of their daily lives may not need you to spend an hour listening to their problems, but need to know that they are not invisible, that their pain is not ignored, and that we are all in this together.



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Seen and Unseen

I am struggling with what to say for Mother's Day because it's not just about my motherhood, but about my mom and the loss of her son, and it's about the children of my friend Kara, recently slipping away to Heaven, and leaving them wondering what to do as their classmates create Mother's Day crafts to bring home to a warm embrace. It's about driving Kara's van and thinking of the time she spent in that seat, speaking love and kindness into the hearts of her children, and the echo now in the silence of her absence.These losses forever change the innocence of a day that is supposed to be about flowers picked by tiny hands, and home-made coupon books for chores, and backrubs, and breakfast in bed.

There are mothers that long to be acknowledged, validated, understood by our tired eyes and ponytails and minivans, and insanely proud-happy smiles when we look in the faces of our little sweetlings.  There are also mothers unseen, with a sadness behind their eyes and perfectly vacuumed cars because the little ones that made them mothers have slipped from this life, leaving aching holes that aren't filled, and often aren't acknowledged.

Have a compassionate heart this Mother's Day and climb into the shoes of a grieving mother or a motherless child, and just sit with them right in the middle of their tears; just be.   There is salt poured into an open wound on this day, and souls just wanting, needing to be recognized, loved, met where they are.

For all the mothers, seen and unseen, this day is for you.  Even separated by life and death, you are still a mother, you are.

For all the children  with hearts aching for the love of a mother, or grieving the loss of a mother, you are her baby, you will always be her baby, from now until forever.

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Runaway Bunny

My dear son,

In this chunky, well-worn boardbook there's an echo from this story that used to be our snuggling, whispering bedtime.  The tale of little bunny who's gone running from his mother, and she chasing his silliness to keep him near... now these sticky-fingered pages have some tiny salty stains, because that childhood tale has deepened in its meaning. 

 

I remember the first moments of looking at your squishy, heaven-kissed face, and wondering what the future would hold.  I knew what I had planned, but didn't allow my mind to wander to the places that weren't included in my dream. 

 

From the second you made me a mom, I knew motherhood was my favorite.  I knew I would serve to you every wisdom I could impart, and stretch myself to be the springboard for your greatest opportunities. That was it, right? You raise them right, and they grow up to be everything you dreamed for them.

I never realized how many times my heart would break for you, how many tears I would swallow in the late hours of your innocent sleep.

Your years have taught me many things, like how invincible I'm not, how much patience I still have to be grown, and how desperately little control I have over this life.  I have felt how love can be so big it doesn't even fit into the boundaries of a soul, and how a proud mama's heart can seem to swell so big it's spilling out the exhales.

I have always convinced myself that if your dad and I were doing the best that we knew how, God would work out the rest; that you would be kept in His grasp and the chasms of my shortfalls would be filled.  I will never stop believing that. 

I won't ever love you any less than that first time my lips met your cotton candy cheeks.  I hope that deep down there is a part of you that knows that is truth.

 

 I was vastly unprepared for this season in our lives.  Unprepared and quite possible very naïve.  My supermom strategies seem worthless puffs of air in the gravity of these days we have staggered into. 

In every uncertainty, I maintain a hope that these shatters are pieces of bigger and more beautiful picture; a healing of your wounded heart, and a redemption of your deepest dreams.  I know that I know that I know you will always be held, no matter where your heart is leading you. 

Don't ever think my prayers for you have ceased... on my knees, in my shower, in the dusting, and the laundry; there are prayers whispered earnest, tucked in towel folds, stirred in soup.

I will continue to be your harbor, ready to anchor whenever you need a safe place.  I will still be your favorite cook and your biggest fan.  I will listen to our song again and again, and remember you dancing me around the living room to its words.  Jacob and Mommy's song

I will love you.  Forever.  Always.  From the bottom of the ocean to the top of the sky. 

                                                                                               ~Mommy

 

"If you become a bird and fly away from me," said his mother, "I will be a tree that you come home to."                           

- Margaret Wise Brown, The Runaway Bunny