"At a time like this, At a time like this! At a time like this, I need the lord to help me!"
That is just a piece of a song I used to sing with other little campers when I was in elementary school. We would fill the bus with laughter and silly songs on the way to the water park or beach. Around the campfires we'd do few silly songs, a few emotional ones, and lesson. On Thursday nights, the last night of camp, we would do more serious ones and you could get up and talk. I never used to have much to talk about. My life was perfect. Yes, I got in little fights with my parents, or gossiped about a friend, but other than that, I really had no pain or saddness (minus not being liked by the only boy I was in love with...) I really felt like I had the world at the palm of my hands. I would leave still feeling refreshed, by God, ready to make a difference in the world, but not really my life.
Those were the days before the questions of "How are you doing?" "How's your mom?" "How are Amy and Adam?" I heard these before my mom got sick. Of course most people tried to hide the fact that they knew my parents we're getting a divorce.
In 4th grade my simplistic, perfectly, happy world, came crashing down. It was as quick and moved as swiftly through my life as an earthquake awakens a soul from a sleep. I would have preferred a tsunami, because then maybe the water would have been able to wake me up and make everything feel real.
I don't blame God, for the things that have happened to me. I don't blame my mom. I do try not to blame other parties, and God has a funny way of making me feel guilty for not being able to forgive. Forgive people who have scarred me so badly. It hardly seems fair. You know who was good at forgiving? My mom. Which leaves me with two conclusions...that are in fact contradictory. If my mom was so graceful in her ways to forgive, why did she go? Why not someone who is so full of hate and rage, and who has hurt others? However the contradictory question I ask, why not my mom, why not give those less loving another shot?
I remember yelling at my mom about a year ago. Telling her how much pain I held toward a family member for ruining things, yet always getting their way. I was so angry at them. That day, the phone call had been a routine phone call, yet at the mention of this family member my body went numb and I felt the warmth of my blood heating up from my toes to my head. After listening to their recent escapade the waterfall encased and raced over my cheeks and I pulled my car over to finish the conversation. My mom, had even more of a reason to be upset at this person than I did, but she didn't. She told me that I needed to learn to forgive and only then could I not be angry. Only then could I grow into the person I wanted to be. Holding on, was holding me back. I was so furious I quickly got off the phone.
The next hour I spent turning my mom's words over and over in my head. My mom texted me and apologized. TO ME! She was right, she was so right, and I knew it. Believe it or not, I took her words to heart. The reprecussions of me following my mom's advice have led to such an amazing freedom. My mom was so smart.
So what is this post about? So far random lines from a life of shattered fragments that I'm trying to assemble into so some form of artwork. I hope to make my blog a lot about what my mom taught me. Many lessons will be repeated as even in my short life of 20.9 years, I have learned a lot. Many of my trials were overcome through my mom's willingness to listen and offer advice. This is what I miss the most. So I hope that through my stories, you will be able to learn through my mom, as well. And that in some way, in some sense I can keep her presence alive and flowing through every single one of you who reads my blog.
I'm not sure the emptiness of my mo being gone will ever be filled. I really don't know how I will feel tomorrow. As tonight, my mom being gone hit me like a brick wall that I myself ran into, because I had been running away from it for so long. I appreciate everyone who reads, and find the comments and feedback to make me want to keep blogging.
Phil 1:3 I thank God every time I remember you.