April 15, 2013

• {there’s a church pew far away that’s growing smaller}
  
  i woke with the sun on my face long before i opened my eyes and my thoughts went almost instantly to mom – today’s her birthday.
  the ache of missing her pressed down a bit harder as the warmth poured through the window.

  
  
  i started thinking of a conversation with her the other day where we were laughing about memories of us kids growing up.. stories from us at church.
  after awhile the laughter died down and mom said quietly, “that pew at church just seems to keep getting smaller and smaller… ”

  dad has been the pastor there some 37 years now, i guess it is.
  mom was 26 when he started. i was 3.
  i’m sure she’d say her kids weren’t the only ones that grew up there.
   
  we always sat in the second row. right underneath the pulpit.
  mom sat directly in the middle.
  her legs crossed at the ankle. hands folded in her lap, usually holding a kleenex {she’s a crier}.

  i can still see that look on her face as she looked up at dad.
  it’s the look she has still.

  then. down each side of her us kids all lined up.
  as we got married. our spouses joined. then our own kids as well.
  our pew got fuller. more crowded.

  we’d cram in week after week, telling the one next to us to move down..
  until it came to the point where there was no where else for the next one to move to!
   
  sometimes we’d climb back and forth over mom.
  getting from one side to the next. or chasing a runaway toddler {ben}!
  and yet there mom would sit, week after week, exact same spot. never moving. 
  i can still see myself leaning forward and looking down the row. yes, there she is. same as always.

  as i write this out i feel the tears brimming.
  in many ways it’s the perfect picture of mom’s life –
  her consistency and faithfulness to the Lord. to my dad. to our family. 

  these past few years have been some of the toughest- things with church. her health declining {she has ms for those who don’t know}. her kids moving on. moving away… and i know her heart has broken a little with each change. felt itself running out in all directions.
  and yet. in it all. every hardship. every trial. every move her legs cannot make. every church member that’s gone. every space left vacant around her in that pew. with every filling and emptying of dreams and plans, she has clung to the One who never changes and He has been her strength through every single step. even in those times she felt she couldn’t do even that, take another step. especially in those times. she’s only tightened her grip more. grace has held her!

  and though i’ve seen the tears. we’ve cried them together. questioned together… yes, why does it seem that suffering is part of God’s plan? and again and again she’s reminded me, “if  we don’t believe He knows best then what else is there?” there’s no other way of finding rest except by trusting He is fully in control.

  she used to have this little piece of paper as a bookmark in her Bible, with these words she’d written across it - 
  “there is nothing, no problem or circumstance more powerful than God. absolutely nothing.”

  and i know those were more than mere words to her.. it was a life that had lived it. found it to be true. 

  i often think of the night shayne and i told mom and dad we were moving here.
  sitting in their backyard around the campfire. mom was crying, but this is what she said - 

  “you know.. i would rather you be on the other side of the world and in God’s will, than right next door and not..”

  and she has taught me that it’s okay to cry. it’s okay to question, to not always understand God’s ways, what He’s doing.
  but at the end of it all our conclusion must be to open our hands wide, letting it all go..
  extended to Him in full surrender.

  what a way to live – with arms high and heart abandoned.
  probably the most beautiful position we can take.
  and come to think of it, mom’s the most beautiful person i know!

  i have often wondered what makes parents and kids become friends.
  what makes that grown child still want to come home?

  maybe the answer is different for us all but for me it has been that place of knowing i am accepted for the person i am and not based on the performance i give. those seem to be the homes that produce best friends for life and kids that want to come back.

  i’m so grateful that i have that.

  and though that church pew far away grows smaller.
  all the hearts that have sat there through the years only grow more aware of the treasure we have in that woman who still sits there, right in the middle.

  happy birthday dear sweet mom!
  love you forever and ever.

  
  
  amber.

  • 11:47 pm
  • 35 Comments