“Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.” – C.S. Lewis

4 years and 353 days ago we took my mom to U of M to get the Whipple for pancreatic cancer. The longest surgery they do there. 12 1/2 hours later we were sure they just bought us more time with our precious Mom. We knew the road would not be easy but she would be here. More visits, laughs, holidays. More celebrating together, more celebrating her. More time to tell her how much we loved her, adored her. 12 horrible days later she died. There would be no mores. The doctor called just before 1:00 in the morning to say she was acidotic and would not make it. My heart was beating so hard I had to ask him to repeat what he was saying twice. We all rushed down there to be by her side. Blessed to be by her side, telling her we love her, we’re here, praying for her. 9 hours later she took her last labored breath. This woman who was so much more than words can convey was gone. Her spirit taken to heaven, her ravaged body finally at peace. A vortex opened that day, though invisible to human hearts, it is fully known by our souls. Pulling love and joy into its unseen depths, giving nothing in return for the chaos it wreaked, wreaks still. We left the hospital shell shocked. How? Why? What just happened? I was sure Jesus must be coming that very day because how could I live without my Mother? My Mommy. And she was, a mommy. All softness and kindness and love and patience like no other. How do you live without all of that goodness? And you do. You do live without it but it never feels the same. Like someone putting a parking garage over the most beautiful garden. It’s utilitarian at best, this lesson of grief. Useful and useless all at the same time. She always left a trail of love everywhere she went and now we are following too close to the trail of exhaust fumes that life leaves. It’s exhausting.

I think about her and try not to think about her every day. I try to remember what it was like to feel so loved and accepted. I never had to explain myself to my Mom but she would let me if I wanted to. When I don’t feel understood, I have a bad habit of trying to explain, to justify my feelings. I never had to do that with her, never felt the need to defend myself. She loved me just for me. She who brought me into this world and walked with me as far as she could. She knew my heart and more importantly, trusted my intentions. What an incredible gift. She never stopped Mom-ing me in all the ways that makes an adult crazy. Did you say thank you? Did you say hello to so and so? It makes me laugh thinking about it now. It makes me cry thinking about it now. You will never want mothering more than when you don’t have it.

Who am I to complain about this loss? I hate that there are people out there that did not have a wonderful mother. Their loss began at birth. Their grief at first breath for a life they would never have. A longing in their soul, the very genesis beginning in utero. Who loves me? Who will love me, for me? Who will assume the best of me, be my soft place to land? We are born to be loved and to love. And there is no one who knows that better than your Father. Yes, Father. Heavenly Father.

It’s hard to reconcile that the nurturing, soft, tender, mothering love that our souls need actually originates from God the Father, but it does. He whose wrath terrifies and confuses us is also the very one who is the source of love, patience, kindness and mercy. Not the benefactor, the SOURCE. He doesn’t give to us what he inherited or worked for or created. He gives to us what is actually from Him, what IS Him. He is love and He is infinite. He is also hard to understand at times. Anyone who has struggled through the Old Testament knows that. But, here is the thing, the one thing that brings every single thing into focus. Jesus. Jesus whose love is so strong, so fierce, so all consuming that He willingly died for us. That is a Mother’s love. That love I can understand because I have in some small sense experienced it through my Mom.

Jesus is the exact imprint of His Father’s nature (Hebrews 4:12). Jesus loves us exactly how His Father, God, loves us. When God looks at those of us covered by the blood of His Son, He sees His Son. When we look at Jesus who was the living example of love, we see His Father. Neither view can truthfully and fully exist without Him. He is the telescope to open the feeble eyes of our hearts and show us great and unimaginable things. Unimaginable love.

That was who God made my mom to be. Not the source of the greatest love ever known but an arrow pointing in the correct direction. A conductor of God’s love for me. Where my dad was great at pointing out all of my flaws and shortcomings, my mom saw it all as great potential. When I have a hard time understanding God because He calls Himself Father, Jesus points me in the direction of truth. God is not my dad, He is my Father. They are not the same. My mom knew and understood the intentions of my heart but Jesus created my heart and it is fully known by Him. This sinful, wretched, broken heart. My Mom tried to heal my pain with kindness and words but Jesus bled and died for it. I’m not comparing my mom with Jesus. I’m saying my mother loved me so well because of Jesus. His love for her, her love for Him, her love for me. It’s all tied together in this beautiful, eternal, undoable thread.

Maybe you had or do have that kind of Mom. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you were meant to be that kind of mother, aunt, mentor, friend. The one who when people look at you, they get a glimpse of Jesus. The one who loves them because you know you are loved. Maybe you are the conductor of Jesus’ love to everyone or just one. Or maybe today is the day you realize that you could be. You could love someone so well that they know Jesus better, know God the Father better. Maybe you could love someone with the love of Jesus so strongly that it could change a person’s life. Maybe that person could even be you.