Seven Years

Today marks seven years without Mom. Mother's Day and the anniversary of her death has come with much less anxiety this year. Whatever the reason, I'm thankful for the abnormal quiet of these past few weeks. It has been a difficult semester, and my writing energies have all gone to academic writing. So, instead of writing some new reflections on the day, I'm going to re-post what I wrote last year. My thoughts are very much the same this year - minus some of the dread of the upcoming day. 

The picture above was taken in September 2006. Mom came to Turkey for a visit, and we planned to surprise her with the news that I was pregnant. Instead, we met her in Istanbul to tell her the news of a miscarriage and we spent a few days there while I was recovering. Of course "recovering" meant showing Mom around the city. This picture was taken during a quick trip to the Black Sea.

And here is last year's post:

So, here we are again. Another Mother’s Day. Mom died on Mother’s Day six years ago. So, this is the first time since then that we’ll celebrate the anniversary of her death on Mother’s Day. Every year I dread Mother’s Day. Advertisements for it begin the day after Easter (although this year I saw a commercial the evening of Easter), and escalate until the day. Especially the week before. Every morning show and talk show and commercial is finding the sweetest and best ways for you to celebrate your mom this Mother’s Day. It makes me nauseous.

So, I can run and hide during this season. No TV. No radio. No ads of any kind. No social media (which isn’t such a bad idea anyway). Or I can use this season to lean in. I can remember how the Lord spoke deeply into my soul that He is enough for me AND for these little ones I spend my days with. And then I can recount how He has proven that time and again. I can ask the hard questions. I can rest assured that I’m not the only one.

I can reflect on the kindness and goodness of the Lord. I’m a different mom than I would’ve been without losing my own mom. When your world is turned upside down, so are the things you value. You see things differently. Rough edges are smoothed. Character is sharpened. Being a mom is a really hard job. But walking with joy in the hard – not escaping from it or even pushing through it, but finding unspeakable joy in it - is what will make me a better mom. Because of this - because He’s taught me these things through loss - in the places of my heart where bitterness should be, gratefulness lies instead.

Soon after we lost Mom I clung tightly to verses like Psalm 147:3 that says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” I said many times that time doesn’t heal all wounds, He does. And it’s true. He does. But I thought healing meant that I would eventually reach a point of not grieving anymore. Of not being sad. Of not missing her and not wishing she were here. I get frustrated sometimes because I feel like I should be over this by now. It’s been six years. SIX years! Why can’t I shake this?

But I think I was wrong. She was my Mom. I’m not supposed to get over her. I’m supposed to honor and love her in the days and years after she’s gone. And I’m supposed to remember the examples she set for me – especially the one of clinging to Jesus in the midst of grief.

The anticipation - the anxiety and the dread - of the upcoming day is always worse than the day itself. I know that six times over. It’s been ugly. But, as Sunday approaches, I’ll try not to hide. I’ll go to Muffins with Mom with Evie. And to a tea party Mother’s Day celebration with Nate. I’ll let them celebrate me. And, by His grace, I’ll be an example of joy and gratefulness to them during these days.