Happy Birthday Mom

  

My mom's favorite picture of herself.



The sun rose this morning, as it does every morning. Giving no thought of the new lives born, the lives lost, or the celebration of days remembered. The day began with birds singing and clouds moving. My husband got up to make coffee and read. It was like every other day that has screamed by me. Today, however, I am going to make a point to savor. I am going to notice the sun rise, listen to the song the birds sing and see what shapes the clouds are making. I am going to enjoy all the wonderful expressions of the people on this earth. I am going to make cookies and decorate them with my kids. I am going to look at pictures and laugh and cry.

Today is my mom’s birthday. She would have been 59 years old. It still seems surreal to me that she is gone. I will, today, be thankful to God for her. I will remember the goofy things she did, the funny faces she used to make. I will embrace the words she said to me that brought encouragement and life. I will treasure the legacy she left for me and my siblings, and for our children, her grandchildren. I will savor the flavors she loved and let the sweet aroma of cookies and tea fill my home. I will value the journey she took to find Jesus. I will forgive her for not forgiving herself and give her grace for the times she acted out in hurt. Today, I will love my mom with everything in me.

I have flowers from her funera,l that I pressed, that sit on a shelf in my room. They are dead, but still possess the vibrant colors they had when they were alive. The pink and purple and yellow dance in the frame I have them in, even though they are not living. My mom is the same. She still possesses vibrant color in my life, as I look around my home. Everywhere I look I see her. I see her in the yellow tea chest she gave me for my 30th birthday. I see the glass and silver candelabra that she gave me on my 25th birthday. I see her in all the birthday cards she gave to me, that I have saved since I was 10 years old. I see her in the dozens of keepsake boxes I have for my life, my kid’s life and my husband’s life; as part of the legacy she instilled in her kids. I see her in the Nana blankets she made for my kids when we moved to Fresno. I see her in the baby quilts she made, and the comforter she made and the drapes she hemmed for me, for my restaurant. I see her in the books on my shelves, that she gave to me; some from my childhood, some from my adulthood. I see her in the dolls she made me, the bear she gave me when I was 6 months old, that I still have today; the cabbage patch dolls she saved; and my baby blanket she gave back to me when I was an adult. I see her in the recipe books she gave me, the apron she made for Carah and I, the cookie cutters she gave to me, and the tea cups she gave to Carah and I. I see her in pictures and jewelry and clothes that she blessed me with.

Today, I will cherish those things in my heart. I will not look at the things she didn’t do or did do that put hurt in my own heart, for those things have been healed and rest with Jesus in heaven. I will cherish all the pure motives of her heart. I will delight in all the words she wrote to me. I will listen to the music box she gave to me when I was 13 years old, that plays, “How Great Thou Art.” But mostly, I will remember that my mom has no more pain, no more tears, no more suffering. I will know in my heart that although my heart hurts and misses her, I will see her in eternity and she will be my sister and we will dance together, we will laugh, and we will be the way God intended us to be.

My mom hiked half dome when she was 50 years old. Yosemite was her most favorite place on the earth. We went twice a year when we were kids. She saw the little things of beauty in a place with such majestic wonder. When she hiked to the top, she noticed that the trees looked different, the sounds were different, and the flowers were magnificent. She always noticed the little things in life. She went to the top and accomplished a lifelong goal. I asked her if she was going to do it again, and she said that once was enough for her. She liked to be in the valley and camp and hike, watch deer, and enjoy the wild flowers and dogwoods. It occurred to me this morning, that her life reflected that. She was in the valley a lot and yet, learned to enjoy the things in the valley. She had a few mountain top experiences, I know, but she preferred to live in the valley. She learned to camp there, to enjoy the things that grew there, to love the wildlife there.



Mom loved Yosemite in the winter also.



I have spent most of my life trying to get to the top of the mountain of life. I have hated living in the valley. I wanted out, wanted up and wanted to see from the top and look down on the valley. Interestingly, my life for the last 4 years has been in the valley. We have lacked financially, spiritually, emotionally and physically. We have been hurt, falsely accused, beat down, demeaned, rejected, denied and forgotten. I had to learn to appreciate the flowers and dogwoods in my valley. I have had to learn to appreciate the food that comes from living here. I have also learned that it is not a place to live, but a place to camp, a temporary place of life that teaches us to enjoy life from a different vantage point. It is very natural and raw in the valley. Fires warm you, the smell of dirt is in the air, and the trees overhead create a canopy from the elements. I can live here now, in the valley, and enjoy life. I don’t have to have a mountain top experience. I can see brokenness as gift and not a curse. I understand the pain and value the tempering it brings to my soul. I can smell the flowers and pine and raw nature and enjoy it, instead of loathe it. I see the wild flowers that grow in the valley and delight in the colors and fragrances they bring.



Today I will remember that about my mom. I will remember that she valued the little things, and in her pain, in her journey, learned how to find beauty in it. Sometimes it was too much for her, I know, and those were the times she tried to climb up the mountain to get out. I understand that now. Today I will remember the summers we spent in the valley of Yosemite. I will remember the Thanksgivings we spent, in the valley of Yosemite. I will remember the time we spent the whole trip picking wildflowers and pressing them into our Encyclopedia. My mom kept those flowers. When I was making her memorial picture board, I saw them. Those flowers were over 25 years old, yet contained the colors and textures and uniqueness, as they did then. I believe that is what my mom was trying to instill in her children. She was trying to give us something to remember, something to value. Even in all her brokenness and hurt and shame, she was trying to teach us to smell the flowers, pick the flowers, enjoy them, and preserve them. I am learning that, even now.



May we all learn to enjoy life in the valley. May my mom’s life be a blessing to those who are broken hearted, broken and abandoned. For those of us who are on the mountain top, may we remember my mom’s life and make it a point to journey down the mountain to the valley, to see the things God has for us, only in the valley. And for those of us who have always been in the valley, may my mom’s life be an inspiration to you, that you can get out of the valley and have a mountaintop experience. One of my mom’s favorite songs was, “I’d like to stay on the mountaintop, just fellowshipping with my Lord, but I have to come down from the mountaintop to the people in the valley below, or they’ll never know that they can go to the mountain of the Lord.” 

 

Mom in Yosemite during the fall. Probably one of our Thanksgiving trips.