I tend to be the type who believes wholeheartedly that my cup is half full if not overflowing. Life is to be cherished, celebrated, savored, and appreciated - Drink it down, shout it out, and be thankful and joyful every day. It’s important to love those who are with us and to celebrate the lives that touched us. However in the past week I realized that I have been without a mother for a quarter of my life, and for the first time in years, I was rattled. Instead of being the one to rev my father into some positive spin about why Mom would be furious that he’s mourning this date; I shared his space. Hi, my name is Jennifer, and 7 years ago today my mom died.
If it wasn’t for her life, I would not be an ounce of who I truly am; she poured her talents and passions into me, moulding the core of me. And because of our conversations prior to her death, I gained the fire to fight for a child. My child. OUR child. I appreciate everyday that she lit the match.
And since her death, I find myself stripped and vulnerable at times, raw in the moment. Several years ago at church I was reading 1 Corinthians 13 in front of the congregation, and it hit - the wave of vulnerability. I could not control the tears flowing down my face while I progressed through the verses; all because I understood the depth of her love in a way that I had never comprehended before.
Oh Mom. I love you. I forever cherish that last puckered kiss that we shared. And I love that I see glimmers of you in my dearest Alexandra - the roundness of her cheeks, the crooked smile that emerges at a moment of sheer happiness. Alexandra knows that she can't see you, but believes that connecting with you is as simple as calling you on the phone. Oh how I wish. So instead we talk. A lot. We talk about you and how you would love her and what you would teach her. She wants to know every detail, every story again and again. She’s soaking you in, don’t you know? And now it’s only fitting that I end this post with Corinthians because I know that love never fails.
1 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
