Mom, If You Were Still Here...

Nary a day goes by that I don't think of my wonderful mother, but those thoughts increase at this time of year when her April birthday and Mother's Day roll around, only days apart. As I continue to pass through the phases of life that she did, I have come to realize more of what she went through, the thoughts and feelings that she may have had, the fears and prayers, joys and pains that she probably experienced.

I often find myself wishing that I could put time in reverse for awhile so that I could do more for her and say more to her. For a few minutes, I'm going to imagine that I can do just that...

Mom, if you were still here, I would…

Write you more often. I tried to write you regularly during those decades after I left home but my idea of frequent was not frequent enough, I see that now. I should have written you every day, for now I realize the hunger that a mother feels to hear from her kids, to know at least the basic things that are happening in their lives as well as the simple details of daily living.

Ask your advice about many things. At times I feel lost as I search for wisdom - wisdom to know what to say, what to do, what to even think or how I should feel. I would trust your advice because I know that you have gone through similar experiences.

Ask you to pose for that picture again. If I’ve thought of it once, I’ve thought of it 101 times…That day that I walked into your living-room and there you were, sitting by yourself on the couch, listening to music. You had on a blue dress, the same blue as your eyes, your hair was white and soft, your cheeks were pink and smooth. I was struck by your beauty-the beauty of an 87-year-old who had His sweet peace in her soul.

Find out more about your past. What were your childhood, adolescent and teen years like? Your years at Moody? The long voyage on the ship to your new island home as a missionary? That emptying -nest feeling?  Seeing your daughters get married? Retirement? As you faced death? Some basic things I know, but the details I do not.

Touch and hug you more. We were not a touchie/huggie family in our growing-up years, I realize that. But I noticed that after we became adults, that began to change, although with hesitation. I would like to have the opportunity to be with you again and hug you more often, touch your cheeks, hold your hands.

Tell you “I love you” more often. I would not wait just til your birthday/Mother’s Day card to write that to you. I would verbalize it. I would look you in the eyes and say it with meaning. Every time I saw you. I hope that somehow you sensed that I loved you even though I didn’t say it often enough.

Visit you more often. For most of my years I wasn't able to do that because we were separated by an ocean. But for those few times that we lived in close proximity, I know I should have made more effort to visit you. I wish we could have lived next door to each other for at least awhile. I would be at your back door every day to see if you needed help or just to share a cup of tea. But God had His reasons for never lettig that happen. In heaven, I hope He lets that finally happen.

Take you places. Anywhere…shopping, riding, to concerts, to flower shows, for a walk-in-the-park sort of thing. Just get out and enjoy the beautiful things of life.

-Give you more gifts. You loved beauty, I could tell that in many ways. You loved music and flowers and shells and wall plaques and pretty handkerchiefs and curtains and such. I would make sure you had more of all of those and of things you’ve never seen or dreamed of having. I would do my best to smother you with gifts.

Ask you what your secret is to your quiet, trusting strength. Your walk with the Lord was beautiful and amazing. I want to be like you.

Tell you what I admired about you...Your gentle strength, your musical talent, your dedication as a wife and mother, your admiration of beauty. I have often been happily proud of your "accomplishments", it would be quite the list if I should write them here.

Say "I'm sorry". As an adult, I said that for the times that I knowingly did or said the wrong thing. But I want to say I'm sorry, too, for the times that I, in ignorance, hurt you. I'm sure you just ignored it and forgave me anyway. That's what mothers do so well.

Say “don’t leave me yet. I need to get to know you better. I need to show you more love.” But these opportunities will never be granted to me again, I can only pray that you were happy with what I gave you while you were here.

Mom, I miss you and love you but I know I will see you again and that gives me joy.