Sunday, May 13, 2012

Mother's Day...


It comes every year, this day. Every year I think it won't hurt. Every year I'm wrong. 
"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears." 
― C.S. LewisA Grief Observed


This year I weep for new reasons. I weep for the woman I am becoming that my mother never knew. I am learning, I am breaking, I am changing... She prayed for this, she longed for it. I weep as I come to know more of motherhood, I come to know more of her love for me. Her unbelievable love for me that I could not have fathomed until now. 


Will this day ever not hurt? I think not. For as I clutch my baby girl, I cannot help but think of how she must have held me so. And it's too late, too late to tell her, "thank you." 


I know I am surrounded by women aching as I... my dearest Kelley, this precious sister, and so many, many others. They understand. We are motherless daughters. 


“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.” 



I believe it's alright to still grieve. To groan for heaven. To wish I could have her back. 


You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. ~Psalm 56:8
“When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of ‘No answer.’ It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’”

― C.S. LewisA Grief ObservedI think she'd be so proud. I think she would love you, my precious friends... and how she'd love your babies. She'd love them all. I know she would love the Cafe, its mission and the exciting things on the horizon. She'd love the desires that are growing in my heart that I never knew were there. 


She'd be so proud of my siblings, their growth, graduations, lessons learned, performances, challenges, business accomplishments, auditions, & stumbles... So much is because of her. We all "rise up and call her blessed."


Yet, I acknowledge - this breaking, this learning, these knew passions - might all in fact be due to her absence. Due to the Lord's gentle and constant love, His all knowing and beautiful care of me.


My little one, bringing joy to all she meets...



2 comments:

  1. It's too much. I can't bear it. Not being around you and not being a part of her life makes me ache. I miss you so much. I love you and you will always be in my heart! ~Kelley

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  2. Oh Lauren, I hope you don't mind me reading along with you here. I stubbled across your blog somehow when I was brand new to reading them and threw every single link into my reader. HA! :) I never took you off though because your thoughts are always so vulnerable and encouraging. I also met your mother once at LU, and her kindness made an impression on me.
    Anyway, I love that you memorialize her so beautifully here. I have NO DOUBT she sees to this day everything you're doing in her memory here on earth.
    I'm reading a book by Joni Earickson Tada and this struck me:
    "Maybe like me, you've occasionally worried that the cares, troubles and afflictions of this life will simply begin to wear you down, dulling your joy, deluding your hope, and robbing you of the radiance you once experienced as a believer.
    In fact, it may be the very opposite.
    It isn't the hurts, griefs and bruises that rob us of the freshness of Christ's beauty in our lives. More likely, it is careless ease, empty pride, earthly preoccupations and too much prosperity that will put layers of dirty film over our souls."

    I wonder if you'd be the woman God's grown you to be without the trial of loss and her radiant memory signing the way to all you hope be.
    Blessings to you!
    Kristen Maddux

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