Have a Best {Honest and Honoring} Mother's Day

Ok, I might make myself late for church 

if I take time to write right now...

Happy Mother's Day!

This greeting was once a bitter, unpleasant phrase to me.

Hurts, wounds, losses. 

 They mounted up to a literal mountain over time.

They say you cannot give what you do not have.  

My mother's mother abandoned her and her sisters 

when they were toddlers.

Literally left. No trace. No communication. Nothing.

They were motherless.

Their elderly father did his best, as far as I was told,

 to raise his 3 daughters but soon poverty and lack in their lives gathered the attention of officials and they were placed 

in foster care.  A kind couple from a small community took the girls in and did their best.

Mom met dad. They had babies and I am one of them.

Mom left a lot. They did their best.

I resented more and more as I grew into my teen years.

I went to live with mom in jr high.

My resentment grew to a thick smothering forest.

I began to hate.

Hate her. Hate them. Hate me.

Her mother reappeared when I was in high school

just long enough for mom to take care of her 

and her husband before they passed away.

I was self destructing and no one knew how quickly 

I was dissolving except for God himself.

I was done. I had no best to give. I couldn't try if I wanted to.

I was suffocating in my own responses to life around me.

Then I was rescued.

The lights came on and I saw hope.

I saw salvation, repentance and love.

And I had a future.

So I embarked on this beautiful flower edged fragrant path...

And soon found thorns, rocks and dry places.

I went to counseling.

Wisely he asked questions, 

listened and gave me some practical helps

and asked me about my relationship with mom. and dad. 

and I thought: what does that matter?

I had no idea what bitterness, resentment, unforgiveness and unresolved pain I had carried and let grow

crippling my own ability to walk or run.

And so I began. 

 I did my best to be honest with myself, with God.

I journaled. I processed. I let God dig it up and bring it to light.

I dealt with things that were intended for destruction.

God began the process to use it for good.

I grew to appreciate my mom.

I looked for the God potential in her.

I saw a heart of gold.

A kind, giving heart with many thorns and hard places as well.

She was mom.

Scripture says love covers a multitude...

And as I cleaned up my own heart I could see hers better.

Happy Mother's Day became more real, more honoring, more.

Less about me. More about honor.

 Less about me. More about seeing the good in others.

And so I began to speak life to her and oh my goodness, apologize for those hate filled teen years that drove her to a psychologist.

Flowers, tiara's, kind words, pedicures, 

lunch at The Olive Garden...

Honor.

And then one day she passed away.

Right before Mother's Day.

I gave her her flowers early so she could hold them.

I gave her French perfume that smelled like a rose garden

and put it on her feet.

Two days after her death, I went to church. On Mother's Day.

"HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!"

friendly well meaning people would say.

And I thought

"my mother's body is in a refrigerator awaiting cremation"

yes.  happy mother's day to you as well.

She did her best.

What more could I ask?

I have learned to love.

And may I keep learning to love.

I want to do my best to love well.

For mom who did her best.

For Dad who I love deeply.

And my step mother who is a gift from God to me.

But mostly for the one who rescued me from hate.

"Honor your mother and father..."

"God is love"

"Perfect love casts out all fear"

"You will know the Truth and the Truth will set you free"

"He will give you a new heart..."

Happy Mother's Day to all who've had a mother,

been a mother, lived, lost, loved.

You are rich because of your kind heart.

So far today I had coffee with my half asleep husband,

 swept the dog hair dust bunnies that were blowing around on the hard surface floor (3xdaily)

self served a piece of left over cold quiche from yesterday while serving my 13 year old son a cup of coffee.

I heard a bit of today's sermon at church last night 

while I stopped by to check on a decorating project.

It hit me as honest and honoring.

I am going back to listen and hear better.

I'll do my best to enjoy today and to be my best.

So imperfect. In process. 

Until next time,

Deborah

images: random searches from the internet