a letter

Last week, Liz asked if she could write about her mom here, in a place that is permanent and safe, to share what she has been feeling and choosing to believe over the last month. Her words are a raw and courageous picture of God's nearness in the dark. I'm honored and excited to share them here.

To my mom on Mother's Day:

If I could have had the courage and strength to stand up at your funeral and say something, it would have gone something like this- 

My mom was kind, welcoming, and loving.  She was smart, silly, stubborn, and practical.  She thought through everything she did before she did it, sometimes over-thinking things.  She was a lot more creative than she gave herself credit, and she was the best cook I've ever known.  My friends in high school would always joke that there was never any snack food at my house, but there were always ingredients to make a gourmet meal.  And it was true.  My mom never did anything halfway.  I'm a lot more similar to her than I thought, but I see it more everyday.  She wasn't the perfect mom and I wasn't the perfect daughter, but she loved me so well and I tried to love her back the same.

There are so many things that I'll never forget from these past few weeks of her being sick, but two that I want to share right now.  I will always remember the attitude that my mom had in accepting the sovereignty of The Lord.  It was all summed up in one look that she gave my dad.  She was sitting in her hospital bed watching her blood pressure was drop and knowing it wasn't getting better. And she gave him this look that said this wasn't what she wanted, she didn't understand, but she trusted The Lord and knew He was sovereign.  It wasn't a helpless look, it was actually a look of assurance.  It seems strange to get all that from one look, but it was there.

The other memory is that before my mom passed, while I was sitting next to her bed in the ICU, she told me how proud she was of me and that there had never been a day in my life that she had been disappointed in me.  I will cherish that conversation forever.  

While I did believe her that night, there was still a part of me that wasn't sure it was really true - That she had never been disappointed. It wasn't until after she passed that I was going through one of her drawers at home and found her prayer journal.  I started flipping through it, and saw it was from 3-3 1/2 years ago- right around the time I started dating Will, got engaged, and prepared for our wedding.
As I read through I realized a few things.  First, that my mom relied, leaned on, and trusted in The Lord more than I had even realized.  She always came across like she had everything together, but I realized that all her strength had come from The Lord- which I greatly admired.  Secondly, I saw how much she prayed and cared about our family and her friends. (A lot of you at the funeral were mentioned for prayer or thanking God for your friendship.) She trusted God for the future of her family, whether it was with my dad's job, or mine and Tim's life decisions.  Lastly, I realized that what she had told me in the hospital was true.  I got to read through her excitement over my engagement, wedding dress shopping, and wedding planning.  I kept looking for places where she would complain to God about how I hurt her feelings in the process or wasn't appreciating her help, because I remembered acting that way at time, but it wasn't there.  There wasn't one word written that showed her disappointment in me.  I couldn't believe it.  I couldn't believe how much she really loved and cared for me, even though I had seen it and felt it everyday of my life.

So mom, if you were still here, I would tell you thank you, for the millionth time, for being my mom. I wish I could say it a million more times.  It breaks my heart every time I think about you not being here anymore because I still need you so much.  You have given me so much guidance, like how to love my own family well by the way you showed Tim, dad, and I unconditional Godly love for the time you were our mom on earth.  There are so many more things beyond that, but the most important was you being obedient to The Lord and raising us up to know our Savior, Jesus.  The last thing you ever gave to me was a verse from II Cor 4:16-18.  I will cling to that not only because it's the last gift I have from you, but because it contains the promises from God that will hold me through this life.

But I still hurt.  I hurt for my dad - that he has to continue living this life without you as his best friend.  I hurt for my brother - that he lost his mom before he even turned 30.  I hurt that my nephew Caleb, at only one years old, will only have pictures to remember his Nana.  I hurt that my kids will never know you. I hurt that at 26 I don't have my mom anymore that I need so badly.

But through that hurt, I am thankful for the 26 years I did have with you. I was not promised to have a mom who would die in her 80's or 90's, and I also wasn't promised a loving, caring mom that blessed my life and brought me joy and laughter.  But that's the kind of mom I received, and I will rejoice that The Lord gives good gifts to His children.  I will choose to delight in what The Lord has done for me. He has always been faithful to me and never let me down - even in times like this when I'm sad and confused.

I love you, mom.  I will miss you every day. And I rejoice each day knowing I will see you again in Heaven.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus, come.

- Liz J. Mott