“Mom, I just needed to hear the voice of someone I know cares for me.” And later, she added, “I think the best gift you ever gave me was your unconditional love.“

I know that gift. My mom gave me the same gift. Thank God! And that brings me to what I want to say. God is all about unconditional love. God invented unconditional love. God IS unconditional love. So, when your mom is gone and you are missing that love so much, it is so important to remember that God is always there. Always.  Remember that, my sweet daughters. Know that it is His love that is sustaining me as I remember my mom today and miss her so dearly. And it is His love that will keep you steadfast and strong at the weakest times.

But today, I feel strong. And today, I celebrate life and thank God for my children and their unconditional love of me. I am truly blessed. Happy Mother’s Day!

Yeah, Sally?

I’m so bored!  Ya think if I cough up a hair ball, I’ll get a rise out of her?

It’s worked before. Can’t hurt to try!

Get in the box with me!

Pleasezzzzzzzzzzz!

What a shame to let years go by and never really get to know your kin. What a blessing to figure it out before it’s too late! Unfortunately, my father, who was born in Michigan, settled in California and for some reason, we never traveled back east to visit our relatives. Perhaps Dad and Mom couldn’t afford it. I know for a fact that he adored his siblings and corresponded with them throughout his life.

The cool thing about kin is that there is no “ice-breaker” necessary. You show up out of nowhere. You don’t have to explain your history; at least not yet, anyway. You smile and hug. No security check. No X-ray machine to walk through first. There is an immediate, inexplicable bond. You look alike. You talk alike. You find out that you share many things in common. The next thing you know, you’re eating birthday cake together, celebrating the life of an aunt whom you all adore…

and making friends with your cousin’s dog who took to you like sliced bread!

Don’t wait. Life is so short! Life is so precious!

What should we get her?

I don’t know!

Dead bug?

Got her that last year!

Oh man!

Blissful.

But always vigilant.

I found a window seat, which I love after a long business day. I pressed my face to the glass and as is my habit, searched for heaven.

“Hi honey. It’s me again. I miss you! How are you? I was wondering, do you go to church in heaven? Are there “Sundays” in heaven? Are there any days at all? I suspect time is a completely different matter where you are. Now that you get to walk with Jesus, perhaps every day is Sunday in heaven!

I’m doing a lot better honey. Can you believe it’s been ten months since we said our goodbyes? I can’t either. But time does help to heal the hurt. I’m staying busy with work and church and beginning to feel a bit of that old spark…”

I suddenly sensed I wasn’t alone. I turned my head away from the window to find the woman sitting next to me leaning as close to me as possible, so that she could see out the window too. I smiled at her and leaned back a little so that she would have a better view of heaven and laughed to myself thinking, boy if she only knew who I was talking to!

She stared at the clouds, but her eyes looked empty. Her face seemed to be void of emotion. Something was missing. I said, “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?“

She said, as she continued to stare out the window, not looking at me, “My husband and I just learned two hours ago that his youngest brother died today. We had to leave a park where I was playing with my grandchildren, to race to the airport. They didn’t even know we left. I didn’t get to say goodbye to them. I just left them with my daughter. “

I stared at her for a few moments. She had sat in silence for at least an hour before we spoke. I noticed that when she got on the plane, her husband had to sit a few rows back, as they were about the last to get on. I touched her sleeve and looked at her and said “I’m so very sorry. God bless your brother today, and your family. “

She turned to look at me and we stared at each other for a few seconds. It was as if she was trying to focus, but couldn’t quite get there. I knew that face. A faceless face. No tears. They would come later. I remember that. No pain. Just numb. In shock. I remember that. Words of comfort. I don’t remember. It’s all a blur, those first hours, days.

We sat in silence together and stared at the clouds, each returning to our own thoughts. I patted her arm again and she put her hand on top of mine.  I knew that we didn’t need to talk anymore and I knew that this was a God moment.

Thank you, God, for bringing me to this point. For your healing touch. For seeing that I have come a long way. For the blessing of that woman and the chance to try to offer her peace. In trying to lend her comfort, I realized that I am well; that I will be fine.

I didn’t get their alone.

Grief has no face. Love one another. Be kind to one another.

On my way to church this morning, I remembered all those other Easters. The last 20 or so all went about the same way. I can hear him saying to a daughter on the telephone, “Why don’t you bring a fruit salad?” And to another daughter, “Why don’t you bring scalloped potatoes?” And to yet another daughter, “Why don’t you bring a pie – apple would be nice.” And to another, “Why don’t you bring a vegetable? Asparagus would be good.”

And like every Easter before, he had single-handedly delegated his favorite menu out to the entire family. Except for the ham. He was always in charge of the ham. We all knew what was happening. And we all knew that there was no use trying to argue with him. It was tradition. Used to drive me crazy. What I wouldn’t give for one more Easter Dinner, his way. What I wouldn’t give to see that silly smile of his, as he boasted over his “homemade” ham. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say grace at the dinner table, the strength of his convictions bolstering my own faith.

Dozens of ham dinners; dozens of Easter Sunday services.  And the message, repeated each year, always left me pondering the mystery of that resurrection. After hearing the message dozens of times, am I convinced? Yes, I think so. Pastor put it well: faith and doubt are woven together as one. Faith is not knowledge.

So this Easter, I miss my husband but thank God for the time we had together. My faith comforts me today and my faith will continue to grow. For that, I am so thankful.

To my children: Don’t be afraid to question, to wonder, to ponder, to believe…

Happy Easter!

I dutifully lifted my pen to card, and wrote without hesitation “I trust God’s promise of salvation and I trust that He is with me always.”

Next, he asked us to flip the card over and list all those things we can’t trust God to handle. I picked up my pen, stared at the card, stared at Pastor and laughed to myself. Ha! He got me good on that one! Nice trick!

You see, I trust in God 100%. I can’t just trust him half way. I don’t trust him to handle some things and then turn others over to my expertise. It doesn’t work that way. It’s taken some life experiences for me to get to this place where I trust in God completely. The good. The bad. And the ugly. And sometimes, with new calamities, I have to recommit myself.

The cool part: I didn’t realize that I had evolved so fully in my trust in God until we were asked to do this exercise. So thanks, Pastor! Realizing it, I have settled into a new-found lounge chair — knowing that He truly does have my life in His hands and I can count on Him, always, to see me through.

Hey, Harry!

Yeah, Sally?

Don’t you love Saturdays?

Yeah, Sally…