Take one word and write on it for five minutes nonstop. I was just finishing up another project when I checked my inbox and there was Lisa Jo Baker’s Five-Minute Friday word. Why not? I wanted to write something about my mother. Honestly, I didn’t know what might come out. My mother and I did not have the best of relationships. But when I think of this word, I do think of her.
Comfort. Five minutes. Go.
“Honey, it’s OK. Go ahead and cry. No matter how old you are, it hurts to lose your Momma.”
She was in her late 70s, our pastor’s wife. Her mother was 99 when died a few weeks earlier.
I wasn’t yet 40 and my mother had just died a week before. She was 61.
Mom wasn’t a warm and cuddly mother, at least not that I remember. I was the oldest. The angriest. The most rebellious. The one doing everything while my mother had a nervous breakdown.
So, we were never close. Until the last few months. Until I forgave her for not being there all my life. Until I thanked her for loving my children. Until I realized she was leaving soon.
My 40th birthday was by far my worst.
Who had always thrown my birthday parties? My mother.
Who had prayed for me everyday? My advocate. My mother.
Who held my hand when the doctor said he was going in immediately for an emergency c-section because my son was in distress? My tough-in-a-crisis, breakdown-in-everyday situations stronghold. My mother.
Who came and watched my newborn daughter everyday for a month after she was born even though she had been diagnosed with cancer? My bedrock. My mother.
Who had a drawer full of every article I had ever written including those from junior high school? My biggest fan. My mother.
I miss you. Mom.
Stop and tell me you are still here.