We were
sitting in church yesterday listening to the announcements for the upcoming
week. I’m not involved in this church yet (not even members yet) so I let my
mind drift. (I will explain the first part of that sentence later).
Easter is
coming.
It hasn’t
been a huge holiday in my family for a long time. Oh sure we would gather at my
mom’s, eat a spiral ham and hunt eggs. That was about it. The religious
meanings were mostly absent. I never understood why. My mom was our spiritual
leader, the rest of us just sort of followed her lead and blindly did what she
told us to do. Probably not the best situation, but for some reason, I knew God
was with her but we never discussed details. We didn’t casually talk about
religion. Questions were answered if asked, but for the most part they were
never asked. We casually went to church, that she picked out. We weren’t
faithful church attenders. When we did go, it was uncomfortable for me. I never
felt like I fit in at the churches she chose. I never blamed her, she was
trying to get us to church in the hopes that we would learn and accept. I
understand that especially now.
We grew up
going to Baptist churches and being “saved” was the way to go. I remember
hearing horror stories of folks that said no to being saved and on the way home
from church they were killed. God scared me. Letting go of my control scared
me.
I was “saved”
in the eleventh grade. I was not baptized and that bothered my mom. I understood
but I couldn’t join a church that I didn’t feel comfortable in.
I searched
for many years.
A couple of
years ago we found an okay kind of church. We visited a lot and thought it was
the best we could do. We talked about joining, but still we weren’t faithful
churchgoers.
September
20, 2011. My mom was diagnosed. Suddenly being baptized took on a whole new
meaning.
Over the
next year I watched my mom become more outwardly spiritual. It was what I
needed. I had been studying various aspects of Heaven, the Bible and meanings
for years. She knew that and we would talk off and on about what I was
discovering. It was the part of our relationship that I grew to love. We never
dug deep, but we talked and that was enough. During her battle, we dug. We read
and talked. We talked a lot about Heaven and a lot about what life would be
like, after. She knew I was searching for a church home. She knew I was
struggling with where my family belonged. She knew about the okay church. My
not being baptized was heavy on her heart.
Yesterday I
realized what I was doing a year ago on Easter Sunday. My kids and I were
baptized. It was a different baptism than I grew up seeing, but we were
baptized in a private ceremony in the pastor’s office. My husband set it up. He
explained what was happening in our lives and the pastor was honored to give us
and my mom this gift.
Mom wasn’t
there. She had begun to decline and was saddened that she couldn’t come.
But in
classic “Mom” fashion, she said she was going to need proof that we went
through with it. I understood what she meant and as soon as I could, I showed
her our certificate and picture.
My mom smiled.
At that point, smiling wasn’t something she did much of.
I made my
mom smile. What more could I want.
It has been
almost a year since she left here. I have spent that time searching for a
church home and answers to my questions. I’ve found a church home. It is where
I am supposed to be. I have questions like most and I am reading to find the
answers. So far I am making progress. We are going to join and our intentions
are to get involved in as many activities there as we can. Our kids need this,
we need this.
My husband
will tell you that he is proud of all the searching that I have done over the
past year. He will also tell you that I have worked hard and come a long way. I
don’t know if he is right, but I am trying. I have questions about God, Heaven
and the Bible. I am looking for answers. One question that bothers me is this,
if my mom had not had pancreatic cancer, if my mom had not suffered, would I be
searching so hard for those answers right now. That one is tough. She told me
to be a good Christian. Twenty years ago I would have shrugged that off. Today,
I understand. It doesn’t mean I am making good on her request, but I am a work
in progress and I will keep working.
This has
been the longest year of my life. I would say that it has felt like a lifetime
but I’m not at the end of my life yet. We/I have been through so much. Some I
have shared, some I have not. I’ve struggled, cried, complained, moaned and
groaned. Through it all I have wondered, “what was the point?” I still don’t
know. There are lessons everywhere to be learned. I can’t figure this one out.
If my mom was still here, life would be complete. She isn’t here. Instead, she
died a horrific death from a deadly beast that has no cure. We watched as it
starved her of everything.
What is the lesson? God knows. I’m going to
keep asking.
On a lighter
note, thank you for the prayers for my son. He was given a clean bill of health
today. No rheumatic fever, just a strange reaction to the medication. He did
get to see his heart and that made his day. He asked what the white stuff on
the ultrasound was. We told him the outer edges of his heart. The he asked what
the black spaces were inside. I told him that was where his heart stores all
the love.
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