Its been a month and I miss you. I listened to my old voicemail at work and there was one from you. I listened to it over and over again.
In our time together, I complained to you about my circumstances a whole lot. In listening, you never really offered me any good advice; though not for a lack of having something to say. It was amazing. To summarize, you had great confidence that I would somehow figure it out, you were more worried about how hard I took things, and you felt that I needed to laugh it off more. "Find the feather!", you'd say.
I'm working on it. You should see my facebook status updates; funniest material in years. You know how much Grandma loved those sad scary clowns! Are you and she together? I hope you two understand each other better now. I know how much you and she loved each other.
If souls _are_ reunited in the hereafter, I am sure you are happy to see Granpa again. It is not lost on me that he died when you were the same age that I am now. I had his books shipped to me, they are a fascinating collection. I thought I had something else to say about that. I guess not.
You did a great job, Mom. I feel prepared for this time in my life. I understand the sort of strength it took for you to persevere; balancing parenthood and career on your own. I am amazed at the determination that you showed to face your own mortality: your physical strength shattered from illness, and even your faculties began to betray you, but you did not waiver. Nor did you shy away from the humanity of it all, there was no false stoicism. You stated matter-of-factly that "all things break down" and that sometimes you can't help crying about it. You warned me that people spend too much time being afraid that they will feel sad and trying to avoid it. Then you said "boo-hoo hoo!" to mock those people; classic.
But, I take your point: Sorrow is appropriate now, and grief is a state of being that is necessary in the fullness of life. It hurts, but I can complain. Here's my complaint: my grief, hurts. Brilliant, right?
Or our other great strategy; changing the topic. The passage from scripture that I chose for your eulogy, Phil 1:9-11, really was based on a memory. You often seemed to be impressed by my recall. In candor, Google certaintly helps out with the precision. But it isn't a trick or a put-on. Nor was it a random connection, just a circuitious one. How appropriate for you and I!
I wonder if you ever really believed me about becoming a Christian. I think most people who know me find it to be something of a puzzle: They can't quite place their finger on what (if anything) is different about me. I never said that I appreciate how you were encouraging me to find a church home as a means of re-rooting my life after my divorce. In fact, my response to your suggestion was sarcastic and far less than appreciative. I'm sorry. I also appreciate that you were, nevertheless, uncritically accepting of my assessment that being a member of some congregation somewhere (with ceremonies, and the coffee hour, and the pancake suppers, etc.) was neither the most important part of being a Christian nor of getting my life re-rooted. "Ok," you said, "You'll figure it out."
But anyway, it wasn't random that I chose this scripture.
And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.First of all, its a prayer. Prayers are always a good way to go. Superficially, its a prayer about leveraging knowledge in order to live a sincere and righteous life. Meh.
The larger theme of the prayer (only gleaned from reading the whole epistle, but nevermind) is about living a life full of Joy. In fact, the only reason I was even sensistived to the topic was that we did as a Sunday School class at Southminster, and I found it struck a chord with me. The study was somebody's home brew, not a Cokesbury series (or Zondervian or whatever is the brand name)and so it was more of the sort of personal testament that you always found moving; me too. The main point from the study leader was that Joy was neither the fullfilment of pleasure-seeking nor the unrealistic expectation that God's role in your life was to make you happy all the time. It was more like a relief; a comfort in the knowledge that no matter what, God still loves us. A love stronger than anything, stronger than illness or misunderstanding or tragedy or fear or death. Stronger than a dangling participle.
I know that you always loved me, no matter what. And that you love me now. And I love you too. I closed with these words:
"...there were adventures, there were hardships, but mixed with laughter and togetherness made all the difference. May God bless the soul of my Mom"
Love,
William
