I had a very “It’s a Wonderful Life” moment today as I thought about our upcoming holiday. I can’t even remember what we did for mother’s day last year. I’m sure we got my mom flowers and probably a gift for her garden. I can’t remember if I even spent the day with her or not. But shortly after that day last year, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. All of a sudden, we were thrown into a whirlwind of terrifying possibilities. The hardest part of her battle for me, by far, was coming to terms with the possibility that I may never see my mom healthy again. After we shaved her head, the thought consumed me that she might be bald the rest of her life. It was torturous, but brought me to a place of deep reflection. It reminds me a lot of the classic movie: It’s a Wonderful Life. A little different…because I didn’t resent my mom at all prior to her diagnosis and I certainly didn’t think I’d be better off without her. But I was complacent. She has ALWAYS been there for me. I never had to turn around and marvel at her presence. She was just there and life was good. Not many people get the opportunity to walk through hell and come back with their loved one. Not many have the chance to process the potential of never spending Christmas with their mom again but then get the opportunity after all. Though it was the darkest season we’ve endured together, it caused me to look at my mom with pure delight every time I see her.
All I see is her beautiful smile, her eccentric personality and the light that she radiates when she walks into a room. I can’t get enough of her. Ironically, we are spending this upcoming Saturday at a retreat for people who have survived cancer. It is my honor to spend the whole day reflecting on my mom and the season we are hopefully out of forever. God absolutely used the darkness of that season for good and I am so glad. Unfortunately, that’s what it takes most of the time. We aren’t naturally thankful. Sometimes it’s not until we are forced to process what we have lost (or could lose) until we realize what we had. Like a child that stops playing with a toy and another child takes a turn. You never anticipate losing something you care about until it’s gone. (And it’s the worst.) Though you can’t get yourself to that place, you can choose to be thankful. You can choose to stop whining about how your mom always gets you weird stuff from garage sales and instead say, “thank you for thinking of me”. You can call your mom and ask how her day is going rather than ignore her phone calls to you. Ultimately, you can make practical changes to show your mom you care. Wouldn’t that be the best Mother’s Day gift of all? She probably has enough gardening gloves, anyway.
Love,
Sarah
PS. I love you mom. I’m so glad you’re mine. Happiest Mother’s Day!
Sharing Sarah 