My mom has always been someone I've looked up to as being older and wiser (obviously). She also gave birth do me and my many siblings, a feat that should never be taken lightly. In recent years, however, I have been reminded of just how amazing she is. I see it over and over again, and, no matter how many times I see it, each time I stand in wonder at all she does.
I will admit, part of this is because I am her daughter, and so I am already biased in some respects. But I lived with her for eighteen years of my life, so I have also seen her many failings and shortcomings. I am the most biased and the most unbiased, all rolled into one mess of a child. Looking back on the twenty-three years she has been my mother, I see many hurts, dark days, sufferings, and struggles. I remember the times our family hurt together, and the times we healed, and the time we rejoiced. As I think back to these times, one thing stands out to me: my mom's love for all of us.
I took the winding road down memory lane while thinking about this post, and now I'm going to drag you down it with me. Rewind 10 years. My youngest brother was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. He was hospitalized for several weeks; every single joint in his body swelled up and was extremely inflamed. He was in massive amounts of pain.
Mom was hospitalized with him. People so easily empathize with the sick child because they are so young and so weak. They don't understand or process pain very well. People sometimes forget the parents as easily as they remember the child. They don't realize that a parent, or both parents, are hospitalized with their child. they don't realize that each time that child cries out in pain, that parent cries with them. They don't realize that a parent's life stops when that child's life is in danger; suddenly the parent's life doesn't matter, and all of their energy, time, and attention is focused on their hurting child. My mom did that without question. She spent sleepless nights with her son, consulted doctors, wrestled with insurance companies, and learned as much as she possibly could about her child's condition.
My brother couldn't walk for three months. Getting up in the mornings and getting his joints moving was the hardest thing for us and for him to do, but my mom did it without question.
I learned compassion from my mother that year. I learned what expensive love was, because I saw it lived every day.
Fast-forward five years. I was supposed to graduate from high school. Two weeks from graduation I got a phone call from mom while I was driving my siblings to their co-op classes: Our youngest brother was going to be hospitalized immediately for an undetermined amount of time. His body was broken again and they didn't know what was wrong with it.
They were hospitalized again.
I discovered something else about my mom the night of my graduation. My mom wasn't there. She missed it. Two of the most important people in my life weren't there. It was a sweet time, and my dad, grandmothers, and remaining siblings made sure it was. But I couldn't wait to get home. I practically ran to the phone (back when landlines still existed), and I dialed her cell phone.
We talked for almost an hour, and I shared every detail. She cried. She cried because she couldn't be there, and she wanted to more than anything. And I cried, because I wanted her there more than anything. That is when I discovered this truth: My mom loved me. 100%, without question, she loved me. She loved me enough to cry with me and for me. The thing about being a mom that I learned was this: you don't divide your love up between your children. You love each child 100%. My mom loved each of us completely, which mathematically gave her a deficit. Except my mom never had a deficit. Somehow, she managed to love all eight of us 100% each. How did she do it? I wondered this for many years. And it wasn't until two years later that I discovered the answer.
Fast-forward two years from my graduation: my parents' eldest son died in an accident.
Not the one they fought so hard to keep alive all those years. No, this son was completely healthy, thriving, and full of life. I won't go into detail about all of it - that is a story for another time.
But that Summer my youngest brother, the one who was so frequently sick and hospitalized, became sick again.
My mom put aside her grief and struggle over the son she lost, dropped everything, and rushed to the hospital to be with him. Not only that, but she sent out updates to the rest of us on his condition. She had her entire Church family praying for him. She fought with the doctors for a good care plan for him. She stepped into the role of his caregiver, a role she had become an expert in. She laid aside her grief and her heartache, and she loved expensively.
My youngest brother is currently very healthy (praise God!).
My mom lost a son two and a half years ago; she has gained two wonderful sons-in-law and two beautiful grandchildren. What God took away, He restored ten-fold. But mom didn't know that He would do this at the time, and she didn't know my youngest brother would recover.
And in this I came to understand how my mom could love so expensively: Because God, in Christ, made up the deficit, and continues to meet it. Mom now not only has eight, but ten children she loves, as well as two grandchildren. She has more, not less, of a deficit in the love department. Yet she never comes up empty. The reason is not that she is a great mom in her own power, or that she has boundless energy, or some secret healthy lifestyle, or even essential oils (though she uses all of those at times).
My mom is tired; she has given her entire life to us, her children. Yet she has joy. Yet she still loves us. More importantly, she has Christ. She wouldn't have joy and she wouldn't have love if she didn't have Jesus first. Because she has been loved by Christ and because she loves Christ, she can love each of us completely. Because Jesus laid His life down for her, she daily lays her life down for us. This is the secret to her expensive, exhausting love: Jesus.
My mom is beautiful. Sure, her hair is graying, and she has wrinkles. Sure, her body isn't as thin or in shape as she would like. But that doesn't change the fact that she is one of the most beautiful people I know. Those gray hairs and those wrinkles are a testimony to the expensive life she has lived, caring for all of us. I wouldn't want to change a single one of those hairs or those wrinkles, because they tell the story of her love, and of God's provision, better than my pitiful words ever could.
My mom is amazing. She's amazing because of the life she has lived. But even more so, she is amazing because of the One she is living her life for; the One who enables her to love so selflessly and so expensively.
I love you, Mom.
I will admit, part of this is because I am her daughter, and so I am already biased in some respects. But I lived with her for eighteen years of my life, so I have also seen her many failings and shortcomings. I am the most biased and the most unbiased, all rolled into one mess of a child. Looking back on the twenty-three years she has been my mother, I see many hurts, dark days, sufferings, and struggles. I remember the times our family hurt together, and the times we healed, and the time we rejoiced. As I think back to these times, one thing stands out to me: my mom's love for all of us.
I took the winding road down memory lane while thinking about this post, and now I'm going to drag you down it with me. Rewind 10 years. My youngest brother was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. He was hospitalized for several weeks; every single joint in his body swelled up and was extremely inflamed. He was in massive amounts of pain.
Mom was hospitalized with him. People so easily empathize with the sick child because they are so young and so weak. They don't understand or process pain very well. People sometimes forget the parents as easily as they remember the child. They don't realize that a parent, or both parents, are hospitalized with their child. they don't realize that each time that child cries out in pain, that parent cries with them. They don't realize that a parent's life stops when that child's life is in danger; suddenly the parent's life doesn't matter, and all of their energy, time, and attention is focused on their hurting child. My mom did that without question. She spent sleepless nights with her son, consulted doctors, wrestled with insurance companies, and learned as much as she possibly could about her child's condition.
My brother couldn't walk for three months. Getting up in the mornings and getting his joints moving was the hardest thing for us and for him to do, but my mom did it without question.
I learned compassion from my mother that year. I learned what expensive love was, because I saw it lived every day.
Fast-forward five years. I was supposed to graduate from high school. Two weeks from graduation I got a phone call from mom while I was driving my siblings to their co-op classes: Our youngest brother was going to be hospitalized immediately for an undetermined amount of time. His body was broken again and they didn't know what was wrong with it.
They were hospitalized again.
I discovered something else about my mom the night of my graduation. My mom wasn't there. She missed it. Two of the most important people in my life weren't there. It was a sweet time, and my dad, grandmothers, and remaining siblings made sure it was. But I couldn't wait to get home. I practically ran to the phone (back when landlines still existed), and I dialed her cell phone.
We talked for almost an hour, and I shared every detail. She cried. She cried because she couldn't be there, and she wanted to more than anything. And I cried, because I wanted her there more than anything. That is when I discovered this truth: My mom loved me. 100%, without question, she loved me. She loved me enough to cry with me and for me. The thing about being a mom that I learned was this: you don't divide your love up between your children. You love each child 100%. My mom loved each of us completely, which mathematically gave her a deficit. Except my mom never had a deficit. Somehow, she managed to love all eight of us 100% each. How did she do it? I wondered this for many years. And it wasn't until two years later that I discovered the answer.
Fast-forward two years from my graduation: my parents' eldest son died in an accident.
Not the one they fought so hard to keep alive all those years. No, this son was completely healthy, thriving, and full of life. I won't go into detail about all of it - that is a story for another time.
But that Summer my youngest brother, the one who was so frequently sick and hospitalized, became sick again.
My mom put aside her grief and struggle over the son she lost, dropped everything, and rushed to the hospital to be with him. Not only that, but she sent out updates to the rest of us on his condition. She had her entire Church family praying for him. She fought with the doctors for a good care plan for him. She stepped into the role of his caregiver, a role she had become an expert in. She laid aside her grief and her heartache, and she loved expensively.
My youngest brother is currently very healthy (praise God!).
My mom lost a son two and a half years ago; she has gained two wonderful sons-in-law and two beautiful grandchildren. What God took away, He restored ten-fold. But mom didn't know that He would do this at the time, and she didn't know my youngest brother would recover.
And in this I came to understand how my mom could love so expensively: Because God, in Christ, made up the deficit, and continues to meet it. Mom now not only has eight, but ten children she loves, as well as two grandchildren. She has more, not less, of a deficit in the love department. Yet she never comes up empty. The reason is not that she is a great mom in her own power, or that she has boundless energy, or some secret healthy lifestyle, or even essential oils (though she uses all of those at times).
My mom is tired; she has given her entire life to us, her children. Yet she has joy. Yet she still loves us. More importantly, she has Christ. She wouldn't have joy and she wouldn't have love if she didn't have Jesus first. Because she has been loved by Christ and because she loves Christ, she can love each of us completely. Because Jesus laid His life down for her, she daily lays her life down for us. This is the secret to her expensive, exhausting love: Jesus.
My mom is beautiful. Sure, her hair is graying, and she has wrinkles. Sure, her body isn't as thin or in shape as she would like. But that doesn't change the fact that she is one of the most beautiful people I know. Those gray hairs and those wrinkles are a testimony to the expensive life she has lived, caring for all of us. I wouldn't want to change a single one of those hairs or those wrinkles, because they tell the story of her love, and of God's provision, better than my pitiful words ever could.My mom is amazing. She's amazing because of the life she has lived. But even more so, she is amazing because of the One she is living her life for; the One who enables her to love so selflessly and so expensively.
I love you, Mom.
*sniff* Thanks Ruth.
ReplyDeleteYou are so very welcome. :)
DeleteAnd...this is the part where I cry. Thank you for sharing, Ruth! *hugs*
ReplyDeleteDani xoxo
If it's any consolation, I cried too. And you're welcome. *hugs*
DeleteThis is so beautiful, Ruth, and a wonderful honouring of your mother, who sounds truly amazing!
ReplyDeleteGod bless you and your mum and your whole lovely family! <3
Thank you Joy! <3
Delete