This week marks the 7th anniversary of the passing of my mother. Sadly, those precious memories that forever changed my life are fading. I don’t want to forget them, so I’m writing once again to remember–to keep my loved one’s memories alive–and to honor her.
An Unexpected Call
It was a cold wintery night seven years ago this month that I got the phone call I’d been dreading for years. Maybe you’ve had one like it too. It’s the type of call that rocks your world with bad news.
I had just finished attending a weekly support group meeting and was looking forward to visiting my friend Linda afterwards.
As I waited for my car to warm up, I checked my cell phone for messages. I immediately recognized the phone number captured on the caller ID for a missed call. It was the nursing home where my mother lived across the country.
I had received several calls from the nursing staff since mom’s stroke 18 months earlier. At this stage of her health care, my siblings and I had agreed to no more ‘heroic’ measures. It was the compassionate thing to do—just make her comfortable and as pain-free as possible.
This call—this message—sounded dramatically different. The message was very sobering: “Your mother’s health is declining.”
My heart sank and my anxiety rose in dramatic proportions as I mustered up the courage to call the nursing home back.
And then Reality Strikes
The nurse’s words hit me like a ton of bricks: “Your mother is not going to make it through the night.”
There were no health care decisions to make. There was nothing that could be done. My mother’s body was shutting down. She was having her last breaths.
When I arrived at the doorstep of Linda’s house, I burst into tears and tried to calmly explain the situation to her. “My mother’s dying!” I cried.
Linda immediately offered to help and comforted me with her prayers.
Her Spirit filled words cut through the shock, the confusion, and the agony of being separated from my mother by thousands of miles. It gave me strength to help my mother to finish well.
Saying Goodbye to My Mother
While I was on the phone, Linda made arrangements for me to travel back home to the Midwest on the first available flight in the morning.
By this time, my brother Glen and his wife Betty, who lived locally, had arrived at the nursing home and were at my mother’s bedside. We spoke through our joint tears. As the reality of my mother’s state sank in, I turned to prayer to help me calm down and focus on what my mother and brother needed at the moment. I asked Glen to put his cell phone on the speaker setting, so I could talk to mom and pray over her.
After all these years I don’t remember what was said. But I do remember having a sense that the Lord was speaking through me. It was a holy moment. Somehow He gave me just the right words to show honor, gratitude and love to my mother in her final hours.
“I love you Mom. I’ll be there soon.” Those were some of my last words to her.
I longed to be there with her and petitioned the Lord to get back to the Midwest in time.
Finishing Well
I hurried home to pack for my flight. It was as if time stood still during those late night hours up to her death. I was still awake and packing when my brother called back to tell me that our mother had died.
I was numb.
For months I’d been praying for the Lord to release my mother from her suffering. In the rawness of the news, it didn’t feel like answered prayer. It was more like a dagger had just ripped through my heart, and I was bleeding all over.
“What now? What am I doing?” were the thoughts running through my mind. The urgency of my trip and purpose seemed to have radically shifted in an instant. I wasn’t going to see her alive again. “How would I move forward?”
The purpose of my trip became one of service and honor to my mother.
It was ironic. I hadn’t been there for her over the years. There were so many times she reached out to me and I would barely talk to her or worse yet, I flat out rejected her call. Now I was the one God prompted to step up and allow her to finish well.
My mother had no formal final requests, no will, and no material items of any value. My brothers and I made some decisions for her remains during a previous trip back home. I knew what had to physically be done, so I carried out that plan. However, we had never talked about any sort of service. So when it came to planning a memorial I followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit. All the pieces effortlessly and miraculously it seemed to me, fell into place: an intimate foot-washing ceremony at the funeral home, a eulogy given at the nursing home memorial service, and a gravesite ceremony–all within 3 days.
Those few days were some of the most painful days in my life, but they were also the most beautiful. I was carried through it by the prayers of friends and family and the love of our heavenly Father.
As I wrote in “Walking My Mother Home,” my story in Journeys to Mother Love, the events of that week led to some radical identity revelations. I accepted the uniqueness that God gifted me with and started seeing the world through the new lens of healing and with hope for the future.
Gone was the fear that I was mentally ill like my mother. It was replaced with the most amazing love for myself, for others and for God. I was filled with gratitude, joy, and peace.
Making Peace with Our Parents
Over the years since my mother’s passing, I’ve become an advocate for supporting our parents to finish well. I’ve encouraged others to make peace with the past and to work through the pain of forgiveness before it’s too late.
Some people step in to care for an aging parent or to handle their final estate. Others enter into the therapeutic process to help with their grief. Or they may physically move to be closer to an aging parent.
Because I’ve been down this road myself I can empathize with their pain and have a bigger heart for their burden. I’ve been given a spiritual perspective that goes beyond their current circumstances.
I’ve been blessed to comfort, support and pray for them as they walk through this season of life–rewriting their story and that of their parent’s along the way.
So today I write to not only honor the memory of my mother, but to also honor my friends who have lost a parent in recent years.
You did well by your parent and allowed them to finish well. You did well for yourself and are reaping the fruit of obedience. Well done, good and faithful servant.
If you are separated from your parent by bitterness or unforgiveness, I urge you to pray for the Lord to give you a new heart. He will give you the courage and the love to help your parent finish well and to turn your healing into hope.
It was an elaborate party with the look and feel of a real Hollywood premiere. Invited guests were informed of the formal nature of the party and to come dressed to meet the paparazzi.
Another guest (aka Sandra Bullock) said: “I thought it was great, very touching, pretty deep and pretty real. A great message for all of us.”
As was customary of these exercises, I read it in class. This one was harder than most as I let the emotions come to the surface—and let my tears do their healing work.
Janet, one of my friends had planned a birthday party for me—something I was looking forward to for weeks. It was going to be a big celebration, with invites to women who had all jointly participated in a series of emotional healing classes. It was how I really wanted to mark this major birthday milestone in my life. But God had other plans.
Preparing to Write
Making Me Bold 