I woke up from a deep sleep thinking about you again. This time it was different – not the usual “at peace” feeling I’m left basking in when you cross my mind. From the moment I stepped out of bed I just couldn’t shake this deep sadness – a heaviness pressing down on me. Feels like reminisce of a bad dream – the kind that cling and keep you in a series of dark flashbacks throughout the day. I throw myself into work, keeping busy – hoping the weariness would fade away. Songs on my iPod continuously shuffle up your favorites; dragging me back to thoughts of you as the overwhelming heaviness tightens its grip. I close my office door to get control of my emotions only to have the confinement squeeze out what I tried to bury. As the tears flowed I let out, “Mom – what are you trying to tell me?”
Since your passing seven years ago, you come to me through dreams and many days I feel your presence strongly surrounding me that I often sense you are trying to tell me something. On that grief-stricken morning I could no longer avoid or deny that there was something I had to seek out. After spending time in prayer and silence, the answer was clearly revealed to me . “Did your faith influence and impact those you love?”
As I ponder over this powerful revelation, I can’t help but reflect on my younger years with having to go through the long suffering moments of “here she goes again with the preaching” as you aggressively express yourself with fierce intensity and a sense of urgency about the significance in having Jesus/God in my life. Mom, I have to confess that during those “soap box” episodes I would tune you out but of course I would try to appease you by agreeing and saying, yes mom, I understand and know what I have to do. Then soon after you finish your sermons, I would go about my business and forget what you so passionately tried to fill me with. I’m sure in your heart you knew that I wasn’t paying attention and maybe there were times you just wanted to give up – but the radical believer in you would find the strength to continue to fight the good fight of faith for the sake of your family no matter what.
I watch the movie screen in my mind of your faith being put to the test. As it was well known, your temper often got the better of you, taking you on an emotional rollercoaster to complete exhaustion. You would then collapse at the kitchen table with your head in your hands and cry out “Jesus help me”, then release a loud and long sigh as if you were being annulled from all that you carried. After declaring those three all-powerful words, the peacefulness that came over you choked out the fear, worry and anxiety and you’d look up and say ”it is in God’s hands, only He is in control”.
No matter what crisis you were hit with – you would initially react then let go of the circumstance; lean on your faith, knowing that Jesus/God is taking care of the situation. How strong and faithful a woman you were.
Mother, the fruit of your labor was not in vain; as the seeds of faith that you planted, cultivated and nurtured in me through the years finally produced a harvest. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for an extraordinary job of exampling your faith, teaching your faith and passing on the joy of it and the necessity of it.