Hey Mom,
Has it really been 17 years? You won’t believe all the things that have happened the last decade and a half. Dad’s the biggest change. I was talking to him today and he and Wanda have taken in another baby. A little girl this time. She’s only 1 month older than my Micah; but while Micah is a great, big, bruiser of a boy, running all over the place as fast as his fat legs can carry him, she hasn’t learned/isn’t able to walk yet.
Wanda has a mother’s heart as deep as the ocean. Many of the things I didn’t have the time to learn from you I have watched in her. She is a doer, seemingly indefatigable. She and dad are re-learning parenting together. And while they adopted (Jack’s hero) Karabo a few years ago, I know she has been having dreams about a little baby girl named Thandi.
Who would have thought that in his sixties dad would be back to changing diapers and middle of the night wake up calls? God must have a quirky sense of humor. Because for all dad’s years of study, degrees and theological aspirations it’s kids, kids and more kids that God keeps putting in his path. There’s us three of course. Then Wanda has two. And they adopted Karabo together. Karabo’s three siblings are a constant part of the traffic that passes through their train station of a house and now that also includes a 21-month-old.
Futhermore, while I think dad would much rather be preaching to the adults, he was first asked to teach a kid’s Sunday school class. He is constantly being inundated with these members that our society often considers snot-nosed, second-class citizens.
Surely it’s not by accident. Because, I tell you what mom, on days when I think that everything I believe might be pure hokey the one thing I can’t get around is the change in dad. And the children he is so unexpectedly surrounded by.
We underestimate children, don’t we? We see them as a means to an end rather than an end in and of themselves. We fail to learn from them about ourselves. And as part of that process, I have found that people radically mischaraterize motherhood.
Do you know that after you died and left me without a guide on my journey into womanhood several (male) elders from our church took it upon themselves to lecture me on a woman’s responsibility to bear children. I was 18 and recently abandoned by my mother. I told them I didn’t want to have kids. They told me that made me a sinner. So, naturally, I swore off marriage and children.
I was 18 after all.
But here I am, one husband and two baby boys later. Apparently God was more gracious than those who purported to speak on His behalf. Because He gently, patiently showed me time and again that He loved me for me. Not because of what I did, the kids I could have, the job I got or the country where I lived. He just loved me for me. Plain and simple.
I can’t tell you what a relief it was. It freed me to want to be a wife and ultimately to want to be a mother. Not because I was supposed to. But because I loved to.
Oh, mom, I love it so. Some days I fear my heart will burst and spill out all that delicious emotion that my family evokes in it.
How did you bear it? How did you bear the leaving? Because, I am 35 this year and for the first time realize how achingly young 42 really is.
I wish I could have known you mom to mom. There’s lots I would have liked to ask. Instead, I will simply tell you a few things. Jackson’s middle name is yours. I named him after the long line of strong women that preceded me and that I am also named for. He has our gift of the gab and flair for the dramatic. But, in looks, he is Pete’s all the way.
Micah might be Pete’s namesake but his resemblance to the cousins on your side is striking. His passionate temperement, however, is pure dad.
Like you, I had one on each of the two continents we call home. Unlike you, my husband did not deliver either of them. Jackson has inherited the love for movies that I got from you. Micah might be our family’s first chance at excelling at sports. My Peter is very different from yours but loves me just as fully.
It is strange to realize that who I am now is because of your absence. But I am well, mom. More than that, it is well with my soul.
And I know that was what you wanted to hear most of all,
Lisa-Jo
{A repost from last year, as I prepare my heart for the date fast approaching when my mom will have been gone for the exact same number of years of my life she was alive.}
Ah, Lisa-Jo…she would be so proud of you. And your Heavenly Daddy is so proud of you!
What a touching post, Lisa-Jo. Kristen is right… your mother would have been very proud of you. And your family is blessed by you. Have a wonderful week.
unbearable pain in sorrow and immeasurable joy…such is life…Praise God that we are all together for eternity in Christ Jesus. Love you lots xxx
i love you. and that you are in my life is one of the greatest joys and blessings God has brought to me through this crazy little thing called twitter. my heart aches for you and your loss … but at the same time, what joy there is in knowing Someone so faithful and true. your heart, your life … testimony to the grace and peace of our Risen Lord.
I’m travelling and tired and my head aches and my heart is full and I am crying reading all these comments and wondering at the community who can love so generously someone they haven’t met. Thank you. Just thank you so very very much.
Wow, Lisa-Jo. That letter is beautiful, as is everything you write. I hope re-reading it brings you peace as you think about the loss of your mother. I am so thankful for a gracious God who taught you so much through your journey and is teaching others through you, as well.
So beautiful Lisa-Jo… I love that you wrote this… thank you :)
you always make me cry.
whispering your name over and over to the Lord who brings healing and joy!
Thank you sweet Stef!
That was difficult to read. But I am thankful you shared it.
And now I am beginning my morning with tears.
I too have written so many letters just like this. I was blessed to have my sweet mother live long enough to meet four of my six children.
But I was just telling a friend yesterday how as more time passes I think I actually miss my mom more because I see how much of my life she is missing.
And I think of all those questions I never knew I wanted to know from her.
It is a bittersweet journey – this motherhood passage.
Such a lovely post.
Such a burden and a blessing to be passing along those same desires for mothering and nurturing to our own children.
Yes, that’s it exactly. The missed milestones multiply, don’t they? And a mother’s heart never forgets.
There are no words… yet you have managed to verbalize your feelings in a raw and transparent way. Thank you for letting us see the journey of one who scorns the path of bitterness and chooses the hard path of healing.
I miss my mom more now than ever as well. And as I quickly approach the magical age of 44, I realize how young 62 is! Thanks for sharing this letter and know that we share the same pain. No matter how old you are when your mom dies, it remains one of the greatest losses in life. After all, who in this wide world loves you like your mom????
My heart squeezed when you said that the woman you are today was shaped by your mother’s absence. What Mom would want that for her child? Yet it is obvious that God has used something agonizing and horrible and traded it for beauty in your heart.
I have no theological basis for this, but I believe heaven is out of the time-space continuum, so that when someone dies, they are instantly with Jesus and all of His followers in eternity. I don’t think your Mom is up there, waiting and pining for the day she’ll get to see you again (although you may be). I bet she’s giving you a hug right now.
I love you for saying that. I almost felt the hug.
Awesome. Thank you. This past Wed. was 3 yrs ago my Dad died.
Touching. Deep.
She would be so proud!
Three years – so short. Thinking of you today, Teena.
You are spilling over with grace in that letter…
I understand … having lost my mother when she was 44 and I was 19. I journeyed alone (so I thought) with no guidance, no direction, no focus. As I approached my 44th birthday, the significance of the day after my 44th, was not lost. That was the beginning of my life. I was no longer tethered to a woman and her illness (cancer) and her death. I stood naked before my life which had been defined by a mother I didn’t know. Where do I go now? Who am I? I’m alive and the statistics of my family history said I shouldn’t be. But lo and behold, the creator of the universe was pursuing me and now without the blinders of my living a life waiting to die at 44 … I saw God and the possibility of life beckoned me to open my heart …
Oh Leslie – I would hug you if I could. He walks with us, doesn’t He? Down into the deepest, darkest valleys. We never walk alone. Thank you for sharing a glimpse into your own journey!
Bless you, Lisa-Jo. I’m so sorry you lost your sweet mom. I’m praying for God to be very near to you today.
Seriously, I need to stop reading you at work. You always make me cry. What I immediately picked up about your dad is he’s living out Jesus commandment to not forsake the children. Not only in teaching a Sunday school class but bringing them into his own home. He is literally loving these children like God loves us. No regard for himself or his desires. Though I’m sure when that cry echos through the house at 2 in the morning it’s hard. Loving your dad though I’ve never met him.
If you’re anything like your parents, your dad is simply wonderful and godly, and your mom was the same.
Yea, we keep telling my dad that this is the most important work – raising up the next generation. Being Jesus to them. And watching how they grow up and into Him. Beauty.
Oh, Lisa-Jo. I have thought and prayed for you off and on all day today at work. I know I simply don’t have the words of wisdom and as would do so often in real life, I can’t reach out and simply hug you. I am so very sorry for your loss- we are never ready for the physical loss of our mothers, but am so very proud of the woman that you are and how you have allowed the fire of that pain to refine you versus consume you.
You are only partially who you are now because of your mother’s absence, if I may be so bold… your own strength and beauth of character shines through…and if your mother were here she would be very, very proud of you. I know we (out here in blog-land) all are.
Hey Rhonda – it’s taken me a while to respond. I feel like words are too small to explain how this makes me feel. Just thank you. Thank you very much.
Absolutely breathtaking Lisa-Jo. I find myself weeping for the loss and for the gain (and that you should be hurt by those who are supposed to lovingly help).
But He loved me so. He caught me tight to His heart and pulled me in and hugged away all the foolishness that wasn’t from Him. He did. Truly. Thank you sweet Linda.
Your post has touched my heart in a very unexpected way. I’m not even sure yet that I can articulate how but it has moved me deeply. Thank you for sharing your heart in such an honest, breath-takingly, beautiful way. There is much in here for me to ponder but my heart rests on these words as I head out the door this morning “He loved me for me”. Thank you Lisa-Jo.
Tears in my eyes, Lisa Jo. What a beautiful post. What a poignant reminder that even though time passes, there are still times it feels just as strong. Thank you for sharing this.
oh, can’t imagine, but how wonderfully & deeply you told this story … you are brave and beautiful
My dad died when I was 12. Before that, he and my mom had been divorced for five years. We didn’t get to see him enough because we lived in opposite ends of the country, but I still felt very close to him. In the years since his death, I’ve often wondered how life might have been different if he and my mom had not divorced and he had not died. Then I have the aching realization that if those things had been different, other parts of my life may have been vastly different as well, and not necessarily for the better. There are so many people who made a tremendous impact on my life that I’m sure I would never have known if my parents had remained together. One of those people is my husband. I have to wonder if we would have met at all. Without my husband, I would not have my four children. It’s hard for me to fathom. I am certainly not thankful for my parents’ divorce or my dad’s death, but I am eternally grateful for the path my life has taken, whether because or in spite of those events. And I’m thankful, too, that I know the truth of God’s Word and have the hope of Christ’s return to look forward to.
Yes, me too. I would likely never have come to the States or met my own husband if my mom’s death hadn’t come when it did. Hard to wrap our heads around those facts I know. I try to take them in with my heart instead. And like you, to be thankful for the Christ who has been leading me all along.
I wish I could give you the biggest hug ever right now. So in it’s place I’m sending a quick word to say, you my dear Lisa-Jo are a rare treasure. Heart as big as her South African home and words that flow, well like butter. It makes everything ‘taste’ better!
So glad to have bumped into you in this gigantic blog world. I am richly blessed by it!
:)stacey
Oh girl, you gave me all happy goose bumps. Truly, I felt that hug!! :)
Oh honey, you have broken my heart and blessed me at the same time. Beautiful words from an aching heart that make me appreciate having my mom around even more. Your boys are blessed to have you :)
This tucked into my email so gently, and I read it in the morning with sleepy eyes and felt our heartstrings ache. The one tied between your heart and mine. And I needed time to digest this, because it’s so raw. And I feel this gumption bubbling up from deep within and it wants to change what happened, to take it all away, to make it all better. But I know I can’t. And that wounds.
But I know now more than ever that His plans are always perfection. And I absolutely love what Kelly said about the time space continuum, because I tend to think that way too. No time shall have passed for those on the other side. We in our flesh are stuck living out the tedium, but all for His glory.
xoxo
Oh my.
Holding back tears.
I really can’t wait to see you at Relevant, grab that cup of coffee (and tea) and hear your story.
Love you friend.
Lisa-Jo, I love your tender heart. This is such a beautiful letter. I had to wait to read it for a few days because I knew what it was about, and I generally have to prepare myself to read things about losing parents. My dad died when I was seventeen after seven years of serious illness. All the preparedness in the world only changes the kind of grief you feel, not the intensity, or even the shock of it. It’s like a door closing behind you that you didn’t realized you’d walked through. I still bump up against that door sometimes.
“It is strange to realize that who I am now is because of your absence.” I know this feeling, but I’ve never been able to express it as well as you did here. It’s been eleven years since my dad’s death – more than one-third of my life, my entire adult life. The never-knows are the worst part. But at the same time, I’m indescribably grateful for where God has brought me and what He’s brought me through–and the wise, loving fathers who have adopted me over the years. Like you, it is well with my soul. (Which, since it was my dad’s favorite hymn, is such an appropriate place to end.)
God bless you. :)
Oh Sharone. I would sit and hug and cry with you if I could. Yes, that hymn? It’s the one my mom chose for her own funeral. It was important to her that we would be able to sing it. Be able to testify that we were well – no matter what – we were well in Him. And as much as my throat might ache with tears and my head feel all hot and swollen, I believe it. I do. He makes all things well.
my heart aches for yours, LJ. i know how much you miss your mom… how much you miss ALL of your family. and while i can’t miss God’s redemption in wanda (and even in your dad’s re-learning of parenting), i know at times even that can feel bittersweet.
hugging your heart tight today, my vrienden. ek het jou lief.
Jy’t my nou laat huil. Dankie my vriendin. Baie Dankie.
Just getting around to commenting, but I wanted to say how beautiful this is. I lost my mom 5.5 yrs ago to Cancer. I never thought of writing to her. I miss her every day, especially in the sharing of my daughters with her. I think I will try this!
I am catching up around here this morning as I’m sitting still with nausea…and you are bringing on the tears!!! Wow. Praise God for seeing you through and doing immeasurably more than you might ever have expected, even weaving your life into such beautiful directions, which would have otherwise been so different. Our Redeemer Lives.
Lisa-Jo, wow- what a beautiful letter to *your* mama. It brought tears to my eyes. I’m so proud of you and know she would be as well! Happy writing, friend! :)
Just found your blog through the links on the upcoming Compassion bloggers trip. I’ve been missing my mom a lot lately and appreciated reading your letter. The years seem to fly by most of the time, but then sometimes it feels like just yesterday I was sitting in the ER and they came to tell us she was gone.
Thanks for sharing your heart through making this letter public on your blog.
I love this post. My Dad dies when I was 7. It has been 50 years this year. Oh, how I miss him in my lfe. As myy mother got to know him she said my husband has many qualities like my Dad. My Mom has been gone for 20 years. How I wish I had her knowledge and widson as I raised my daughter. My thoughts of them are nevr far away. Their spirits are with me. I know I will meet them again one day.
I’m so glad that you reposted this and that I ran across it. I want you to know that your writing and processing of all that your mom was, is and will be in your life is a blessing to me. Having lost my own mom over half a lifetime ago I can relate. It aches, but it is in that aching that we find just what you said. We find that it is in the wake of all that she (our moms) was in our lives that we have become all that God has made us; wives, mothers, sisters, friends. It is such a surreal place to look back and see that it is the very absence of our moms that have been the foundation for God’s immense blessing and chiseling in our lives. You push me to see that. Your writing pushes me to say with intensity that it is well. I’m blessed.
I hope you read this Lisa-Jo. I’m writing it long after you posted it and I got to know you via here and (in) courage.
You remind me that I had 28 years with my mom, through you and others I remember that that is much more than some…
I love your sharing about your kids…I need to write the letter…I’m afraid the tears will never stop though…
I relate to the change in your Dad since your mom’s going…it is apparent that my Dad was called to my step mom and to give his love in a way she nor her family never received it…it is a great mystery and we cannot do the ‘what-if’s’ where we live now because we miss so much of what God is doing by not opening our hearts to embrace that…like you do…and by His grace, as I do…
as I say this, I just had another of those dreams that Mom is alive and well…oh my, when they first came, it was like she didn’t really die but Dad was re-married…they are hard dreams
butterflies. it is a type of symbol that God (and mom) seem to send my way just when I need it–to remind me I am seen and known fully and how beautifully my mom began that process in the way she loved me…
I already liked you so, and then I find when I read this that you have walked this journey…
hope you get to read this, but praying for you nonetheless:)
dear Lisa -Jo
for the first time in my 67 years someone who understands the misery of no mum.My mum and dad adopted me and loved me but God took them from me when I was 17 they died 10 months apart .I have grieved for them ever since, even though I am married to a wonderful guy and have 3 grown sons and 4 grandchildren . The pain never dies. So thank you for sharing and showing me that there are others to share with. Many blessings to you andyour lovely family.
Lorna
Lisa-Jo, I just ran across this post for the first time. I guess I’m writing to say I understand. My mom died very unexpectedly when I was 20. Now, with my first baby girl nearly 10 months old, I’d love more than anything to know her as you said, “mom to mom.” But God is good and His timing is right. I’m sorry that you have sadness too, but it’s good to know someone understands. :)
Lisa-Jo….I have no idea if you’ll even read what I’m about to say because I’m reading a post from quite awhile back. But I feel compelled to write it nevertheless. I was just 22 when my mother died. And so I, too, have lived my life without the guidance of a mother. My mother was just 50 when she died. And in reading your blog I realize I am your mother’s age. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that who you are now was shaped by the fact that you didn’t have a mother, just as that is for me. And I have no doubt that could she know you now, your mother’s pride in you would know no bounds. Absolutely.
This is a beautiful letter with me misty-eyed and heart full. I’m so thankful for God’s grace & mercy in your life. He’s truly carried you and I can read it in your writing. I’m thankful to see women like you who have been through tremendous heartache & come out on the other side clinging to redemption’s pie. You’re a beautiful women! And I want to give you a big hug at Relevant this year:)
Lisa-Jo . . . I am a first time reader and this piece has left me undone. The beauty, the questions – “How did you bear the leaving?”, the distilled wisdom, all converged to open a door to a room in my heart that I thought no longer held pain. I was 27, she was 49, when my sweet mama died. I am now 54 and that date is “fast approaching when MY mom will have been gone for the exact same number of years of my life she was alive.”
So good to know that each time some residue of pain or sorrow surfaces that I can release that to Jesus and receive more healing, more peace.
Thank you for sharing this, dear one.
This sentence made me cry. “It is strange to realize that who I am now is because of your absence. But I am well, mom. More than that, it is well with my soul.” I so worry what would become of my children if I were not here. My husband’s mother died when he was 8. But, the only important thing really is that they believe in Jesus and that He loves them more than I ever could. I tell them this often and if that is the only thing they remember about me, that is more than ok :) I so enjoy your writing. Thank you for sharing yourself with us.