Every year I dread this date and the sadness it rekindles. It’s been 16 years. How many more?
My mother died on this date in 1997. My mother died. It was a Thursday.
Even now, all these years later, it sounds surreal and far too sad to be true.
I know that her earthly life mattered and that my memory of her will never die. Dear God, she was my one and only mother. She loved and was loved deeply even when her pain was intense and she could barely see the light of that love. It was – and is – absolute.
Yes, I look with confidence to a future reunion with her. By God’s grace, my entire family will be there, together for eternity. When we meet again, we will all be forever changed and remade in the presence and the image of the Savior we adore.
But for now, I keep trying different fonts, wishing I could change the look of this day, this now.
It doesn’t work.
- Maybe This Will Help - February 10, 2017
- I’m Firing Olivia Pope - January 24, 2017
- I’m crossing some things off my list this year - January 11, 2017
- I learned a new word - November 30, 2016
- The best question I’m asking myself these days - July 18, 2016
- A tragic story with a tender twist - May 17, 2016
- Gosh, people are a mess - May 12, 2016
- I’ll take the red carnation, thank you – revisiting an odd tradition - May 2, 2016
- The surprising thing about “weakness” - April 20, 2016
- The holiness of a four-way stop - April 13, 2016