It's International Women's Day today. And I would give anything to have the most important woman in my life back. It's also exactly two months since she left us, but the pain is as real and visceral as it was that day. My mom was not and will never be famous. She didn't change the world, open new doors, knock down walls. She was the definition of quiet stability. She was the embodiment of strength. In 1991, with three young children and a traveling husband, and living on the mission field, she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. And she prayed, not only for her own healing, but more than that that she would first and foremost bring glory to God, and secondly, that she would be there for her kids. This incredible woman had devoted herself to her God, her husband, and her children, knowing that her purpose was not to make a name for herself, but to live and breathe Jesus regardless of her circumstances. She created a warm and ...
My mom's birthday is coming up. A day that used to inspire joy now comes barreling at me, a reminder that she was too young to go. The idea of milestone birthdays and anniversaries rings more shallow to me now. Don't wait to celebrate. Don't put off a party or a celebration or a vacation together because it's not "a big one". My mom didn't make it to her 60th. This year she would be 63 and I wish I could throw her the biggest damn party she'd ever seen. Or surprise her with tickets to Broadway. Don't push off celebrating. I've been sitting in grief today. I opened the pages of the second volume of Every Moment Holy: Death, Grief, and Hope, a gift from my grandmother. A gift for no occasion. Be like her - buy the gift and send it when you think of someone. Don't wait for a reason or an event. You speak love when you do this. Send the card, text the verse, leave a voicemail. The saved voicemails I have from my mom are...
Using his best Sean Connery imitation, this was Zach's sage advice for me as I whined about my lack of projects during this quarantine. As natural doer, having nothing to do has been rough. To be a doer who's not doing is... "unnerving" as Lumiere puts it in Beauty and the Beas t. Which is why Zach has tried to get me to write, regularly quoting Finding Forester to try and motivate me. The problem is that I don't like to write unless the words are flowing out of my soul with ease. My fingers fly over the keys, barely keeping up with my thoughts, my body feels as though something is quite literally brimming inside of me that is spilling out onto the page. When I don't have words... punching the keys feels like a chore. A discipline. Work. As I thought about it some more, I realized that, while I may not have any new words, there are words I've written that haven't been shared. More correctly, they have only been shared with a very small group of pe...
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