My First Mother's Day Without My Mother

This mug with moms words (and coffee) get me up every morning

Isaiah 43:2
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you."

Matthew 5:4
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

2 Corinthians 1:3-4
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."






Mother's Day is approaching and a dear friend of mine has recently lost her mother.

I know exactly what she is going through.

I thought I'd share this post from April 27th, 2009.




Dear Mom, 4/27/09

I was in the grocery store a week ago and as I was shopping for fruits and veggies, I came face to face with a display full of beautiful cards and wrapping paper embellished in various flower patterns. The header on the display read “Mother’s Day. May 10th. Don’t forget Mom.” It felt like one of those hideous rolls of patterned wrapping paper came shooting out at me and stabbed me in my chest. It went in so deep, that I didn’t think anything could hurt worse than that. Not even having a baby. Thank You Hallmark. As if I wasn’t having a hard enough time. What, they couldn’t wait until next year to remind me that I’ll have one less card to buy? I wanted to take that wrapping paper and unroll it, use it for a blanket and cry myself to sleep under the bananas. Of course I couldn’t, because the last thing I need is to be hauled off to jail for biting anyone who came close enough to ask me if I was ok.

I am not ok Mom.
 
I don’t even know what to say to people who ask me how I’m doing. Should I say, “Well, today, I didn’t want to get out of bed. Yesterday, I screamed at my children for no good reason other than it felt good to yell and the day before that, I cried myself through an entire roll of toilet paper.”

No, I usually say. “Oh… I’m ok.” And then change the subject. The only reason I don’t say. “I’m doing fine,” is because I know everyone expects me not to be ok, so saving them the drama of how I’m really doing, I satisfy their need to help by drawing out my answer questionably.

I’m still going to church every Sunday Mom. Really, the only reason is that I feel better leaving than I do when I get there. I guess it’s kind of like exercising where, sometimes I just don’t want to run, but I always feel better after I do. Last Sunday in church, Pastor talked about “Quiet Times.” He said that it was important for us to have our own quiet time with God to talk and to be still and listen. I immediately thought of hiking and going to the highest place I could to sit quietly and pray. The next morning, I woke up at 5:45am, hopped in the car and drove 3 minutes to a local canyon for a little quiet time with God. I swear I thought I was going to have some breakthrough, some reconnection with my Christianity that I’ve been searching for. It wasn’t quite the experience I had though.

As I parked and got out of the car, the sun was just starting to get up. I had a backpack with me with water and my driver’s license in case I ended up being eaten by a Mountain Lion. (So people would know who I was.) I also had my camera around my neck because, frankly, I don’t go many places without it.  As I started to walk up the hill, I could hear animals running from me in the brush. Lizards, bunnies, squirrels, birds, etc. I headed up the hill and realized that I was scared. Very scared. What was I doing?! I’m alone on a hike with wild animals in Southern California. I picked up a really big rock with a sharp edge and held it in my right hand, and shook my keys in my left hand. (So I didn’t startle a coyote or anything else that would feel the need to attack).

Two separate times, I turned back.  But then decided I had come this far, it would be silly to turn around, so I continued up the mountain. I was snapping pictures, talking out loud, and shuffling my feet to make noise and asking the Lord to put it in my heart if this was the wrong thing to do. I would hate for my last words to be “God told me not to do it, but I did it anyway.”

After 30 minutes, I made it to the top, and boy am I glad I didn’t give up. It was brilliant. You would have loved it Mom. It was so beautiful. I always forget how beautiful a city can be if you step back and look from a distance. I sat on a bench and spoke a little to God.
It felt forced, but I did it anyway. I talked to you too. Did you hear me?

I couldn’t stay there long, because I knew the kids would be up soon and Don is not exactly a morning person, so I always try to make it back before anyone gets up. I didn’t have much time to sit and talk or even just be still and listen, but as I left to go back down the hill, I turned around as if God were sitting there and said, “My heart’s open Lord. Talk to me.”

I ran down the hill, shaking the keys the entire time and slowed down when I saw two young women walking up with a big dog. I knew people were showing up and I’d be ok if a Mountain Lion jumped out because someone would be able to hear my scream now.

The only thing I got out of that walk was the urge to go see little Jeff. So, I bought tickets for the kids and I, and we surprised him. He was so shocked Mom! You should have seen his face. It was awesome. It was so wonderful to just be around him, around my family. I miss everyone so much Mom. But, I miss you more than them. I wanted to call and tell you about the trip, about what we did, about how Jeff is doing because you always ask me for an honest answer. I know how he doctored things up for you, as to not worry you. If you’re wondering, he’s doing ok. But, ok isn’t the same ok as it used to be.

So, there it is Mom. We’re all swimming to stay above the water. That’s all we can do. I’m not sure what tomorrow brings, but hopefully it will be better than today.


I love you and miss you more than any of my tiny words can express.

Love,

Jessie

There Is Life In The Blood

We could always tell when my mother needed a blood transfusion. Closer to the end of her life, a good indicator of what was going on inside of her was evident by the blood. Platelet counts and white blood cell numbers were something I was paying close attention to. When she would start to feel worse, more tired and flat out sick, we all knew a transfusion would make her feel better.

And it did.


At that time, I was recording everything...how she felt, what she looked like and what she did. I remember going to the hospital with her on one particular day for a blood transfusion and getting to spend over 5 hours with her while it happened. I bought gifts for my children in the gift shop, I sat out in the lobby talking (and crying) to friends on the phone while she slept and I got to sit right next to her with my feet up on the bed and just watch her.

I brought my camera that day and asked her questions about getting a transfusion. She was fascinated with blood donors.

“When I lie there and look at that bag of blood, all I can wonder is, who’s blood is it? Is it a tall person or short? Is she a black woman or is he a hispanic man? Are they an angel? They must be, to give me their blood.” She said.

 An angel, yes indeed. The blood she would receive would give her breath, give her energy and fill her with life.


 There is life in the blood.





The Passion Week is here. This is a week I have a lot of trouble with every year. For any Christ follower, I suspect it’s difficult as much as it is comforting and humbling and amazing. My emotions surrounding the events that took place to kill Jesus are so very complicated. I can barely speak of them, let alone watch them (Cue anxiety for Sunday’s finale here History Channel).

In 2004, when Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion Of The Christ, was released, I ran to the theatre excited to see it. When the movie was over, I couldn't move. I was trembling at the reality of an inhumane slaughter of an innocent man, and not just any man. I cried over the destruction inflicted upon Him, it was no standard crucifixion, if there is such a thing.

The Passion Of The Christ

I haven't watched it again since. There is no need, the images are forever ingrained.

The blood shed was reprehensible.

But there is life in that blood.

This week is difficult to understand. Jesus himself, wondered if there were any other way, asking God to remove this cup from him, but only if it were in His will. Jesus confessed that the “spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” (Mark 14:38).

The bloodshed was necessary. The crucifixion was necessary and The Resurrection was the plan.

The Bible is clear that living a “good life” is not enough. Romans 3:23 tells us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” If I based my salvation on my own merit, I wouldn't even make it to the gates to beg for the chance to grovel at the feet of The Lord.

“There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which me must be saved.” Acts 4:12.

“God demonstrated His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Romans 5:8.

I cannot begin to explain everything to anyone who asks...because I simply do not have the understanding of it all or all of the answers to satisfy.




What I do know, however, is that there is life in the blood.

Saying Goodbye

Dana and her three children

I attended a friends funeral yesterday.

It was beautiful.

As beautiful as funerals can be, I suppose.

Dana Bell was a woman I met a couple of years ago, and her impact was huge on me. She performed in the stage show I produce, Expressing Motherhood and shared her story of single motherhood to three children. As if that weren't hard enough, she had also been living with Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer. And for those of you who know me and my personal experience with breast cancer, you’d understand why I sat in the corner of the room sobbing as I watched her in rehearsal that January.

She survived the cancer for two years after that time. She passed away on January 27, 2013.

She was 42 years old. The same age my mother was the first time she was diagnosed.

Oh boy. My heart is a little heavy today.

What I can tell you is that her service yesterday was amazing in so very many ways. It was extremely full and I thought it may just end up being a standing room only kind of deal. Always a testament to what a single person means to so many.

I am heavily comforted to know that Dana had a faith in God and knew she was going to heaven to be reunited with loved ones, including her father. 

Dana was a remarkable woman with a great sense of humor, She had long legs and loved high heels...as proven by her brave performance in the show wearing wig, prosthetic breast and shoes that would make Carrie Bradshaw sigh.

As expected, I had a very emotional time at this funeral. I feel for her children, her family and friends who all watched helplessly. I know that feeling.

Helplessness.

But, then...an amazing moment.

Dana’s sister, Lena, gave a eulogy that made me devour a handful of Kleenex with my eyes. Lena said that Dana had a favorite mug that she used every day and that the mug had the words:


“Be happy. Be a family. That’s it.”  on it.

I looked at the friend sitting next to me and I lost it. The power of my mothers words on the mug I gave Dana two years ago probably helped her through some really tough times. My mother’s words meant something to another woman fighting breast cancer.

The same mug assisting me through my BSF this morning.

I didnt have words then for how I felt, and I honestly dont have words now.
At the end of her service a song was played for us to listen to.

Per Dana’s request.

This is the song below, it’s called The Family Tree by Venice. I had never heard it before, but all I will say is grab a tissue.

But before you do that...grab your loved ones. Tight.

Her Testimony

Today is that day.

It’s another January 24th.

4 years.

Funny how time works. It really does help the pain subside. It’s not absent, it’s just easier. And not every day is easy. Random days are very hard. Random days are filled with chest pain, tears, disbelief and physical hurt.

But not today. This anniversary doesn't give me a whole lot of pain. That might be tomorrow, who knows.

Today, Im just fine. I’m sitting alone in the kitchen at 5am with my computer, my memories of her and her testimony.

Last fall, I participated in a bible study at our church called “Believing God.” In reality, this bible study saved me in many ways. It prepared me for many more things that were to come in my life I had no clue were headed my way.

Something else this study awakened me to is the importance of leaving your testimony for the generations to follow you. For your children and their children. We had constructed a timeline of what the author called “God Stops.”

These “God Stops” were people and events in our lives that we could look back on and see where the Lord was working to keep us safe, to teach us lessons and to draw us near. I was actually frustrated at the small amount of these instances and people in my early life....or at least the ones I could see and can now remember. 

I worked on my testimony time line and although it’s not fully complete, it’s there. In linear form.

I remember thinking it would have been great to hear my mothers testimony. I know just by our conversations prior to her death and for years leading up to it, that she absolutely believed in God and knew Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior. She would always tell me

“I’m not afraid of dying, because I know where I’m going. I’m afraid of the process.”

And the process, well, it wasn't pretty. But she approached it with grace, strength and probably walking hand in hand with God.

This week, my 7 year old daughter Shelby, was rummaging through a box I have of my moms. It’s been sitting on my back porch for nearly 2 years now. It has all kinds of things in it..her high school yearbook, her cancer beanies, a few kitchen decorations, some of her socks and apparently it had a few of her Bibles in it. Shelby came running in to me and said “Here mom.”

It was my mother’s study bible. I thanked Shelby and thought I’ll just take this back to my bookshelf. On my way to the shelf, I saw a few papers folded in her Bible. I was in the hallway of my home when I pulled them out, opened them up and began to read.

It was her testimony.

It stopped me dead in my tracks. I held back tears as I read it. More so in the fact that I felt her come alive in the words. I felt her come alive as I knew my hands were in the same places she had her hands as she read this and shared it with her church it seems. 
It was alive and it was speaking to me.

I want to share her testimony, because I know she would want that. She would have written this long before the return of her cancer. I know how much these few words mean to me and so I will be certain to finish that timeline for my children and give them the gift of my testimony of faith.

Such a blessing it is for our children.

“Today is Mother’s Day and I thought there wouldn't be a better day than today to give my testimony. Growing up as a child, I went to church now and then and thought I knew Christ. Later, I got married and had three beautiful children, but Christ was not the center of our marriage. We ended up in divorce. The funny thing is during that marriage, I always wanted my family to be closer to God and to to go to church. I prayed for that, but it didn't happen.
    During the divorce, the love I had for my kids kept me going. I talked and prayed to God everyday. Then one day I met this fellow. He swept me off my feet. He also had three kids. Neither one of us were going to church at the time. We talked and wanted to find a nice church to attend. It was at this time he proposed to me.
    Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. Again I talked and prayed to God. I was wondering why something so horrible could happen to me right now when my new life was just starting. The love I had for my family prevented me from giving up.
    At this time, Pastor Harold and Liz came into my life. With the help of their church and our family and friends’ prayers, they got me through a mastectomy, three months of chemotherapy and then a stem-cell transplant.
    Jeff and I decided to get married 5 weeks after my stem-cell transplant. The week before I got married, I was baptized. That cool water sure felt good on my bald head! What a sight! Since then, Kelly, Jessie, Mandy and Sam were all baptized. After I was married, I had to do 6 weeks of radiation. That was the end of my long journey.
    If it weren't for Gods love for me and the love I have for God and my family, I wouldn't have survived that journey. I wouldn't be here today to tell you about it.
    I am closer to Christ now than I have ever been before. I now realize how He used me to get others around me closer to Him. He is present in my life, and he can be in yours too. Just ask Him.
Thank you and Happy Mother’s Day.”