Prepare – verb – make (someone) ready or able to do or deal with something. There are many things in life that we prepare for. We prepare for the day. We prepare for a meeting. We prepare for the birth of a child. And yet. There are some things that it seems we cannot prepare for. And others that we are oddly prepared for.
Losing my Mom at the beginning of this year was completely and totally unexpected. And yet, I was in a way, oddly prepared. Let me explain. The season preceding my Mom’s death had been a long and difficult season for me, for reasons that I can’t go into online at this time. And I thought that various elements were in place to help me in that season. Those elements, in fact, are what led me to being oddly prepared to deal with the overwhelming devastation that the loss of my Mom was, if one can be at all prepared for thedevastation that the loss of you Mom is.
Let me rewind a bit…
Last fall, I joined a Women of Influence group. We spent the fall learning about amazing women of influence in history. My dear friend Lisa shared with me that we would begin studying John Ortberg’s book, Soul Keeping, in January and asked if I would consider helping to teach one of the nights. Which meant that I started reading my copy in October.
If you’re unfamiliar with the book, the premise is that it is imperative that you not only recognize that you have a soul, but that you must care for and safeguard it. As a pastor, of course, I recognize that I have a soul. I also recognized that as a wife, mom, homeschooler, and pastor, I had spent so much time caring for others that I frequently and almost permanently put myself on the back burner. So, I moved me and I made a plan to not just care for me but also put steps into place to safeguard that plan.
In the midst of all that was going on in my life and reading the John Ortberg book, I really started to pay attention to what happens in the winter or the night because my life was most certainly in a night season. I’m a firm believer that just as there are reasons for seasons, there are also lessons. I’d much rather learn my lesson in season than have to repeat the season, so I’m all about diving in to learn about the season I’m in.
There’s a song with lyrics that say “This year’s felt like four seasons of winter, And you’d give anything to feel the sun,” and that song had been on repeat in my brain for quite some time.
So, the fall had me reading about caring for my soul, learning about the things that happen in the dead of winter and the dark of night — and I mean scientifically, like seeds dying and circadian rhythms, the repair of cells, and so much more. I mean, four seasons of winter was far more than enough, and at that point, I’d had about 8 seasons of winter, so I was more than ready to move on.
Fast forward to December, our church is one church with two locations. Extenuating circumstances prevented one location from holding a Christmas Eve service, so we encouraged families to either host a viewing of The Real Story of Christmas in their homes or to attend service at our other location. My husband and I elected to host his parents and my parents in our home.
As I looked around the room after our family lit candles during the viewing, I thought, “If this is the last Christmas I have with my parents, I’m glad I can have this service here in my home with my family and not in a church building….” At which point, I interrupted my train of thoughts and chastised myself, and said, “Of course, it’s not the last Christmas you get to spend with your parents, you nitwit, but cherish it nonetheless, it’s probably the only one like this you’ll get.”
At the end, my Mom held her candle up and said, “Amen! Always let your light shine.” She was good at that. Always letting her light shine. I didn’t know then, like I do now, what a treasure that simple gathering in our home truly was.
January 6th rolled around and my dear friend Alicia, who is a missionary in Honduras, messaged me and asked if I had time to chat. So we hopped on a call via Facebook messenger. As we talked and prayed, she recommended the book The Night is Normal by Alicia Britt Chole.
The night theme again. So, I checked it out on Hoopla and started listening to it. Within this book, Ms. Chole assures the reader that while our reality may be broken, our God has not changed. She also assures the reader that there is priceless treasure in the night, and the night does not last forever. Okay. God doesn’t change, and look for the treasure in the night season. I also started listening to Ortberg’s book a second time, because our actual study of the book would be starting within the month and I wanted to be sure to have a handle on what we would be talking about.
On the morning of January 30th, my dear friend Lisa texted me saying, “Good morning friend! Just thinking of and praying for you… clarity of mind and grace today. You are loved. You matter. 😘” As I read the text, Holy Spirit said, “Gird Up” so I started praying. To “Gird Up” means to prepare oneself for something difficult or challenging. It was an hour and twenty minutes later that I received the call from my Dad that Mom was en route to the hospital by ambulance.
Dad and I chatted several times by phone and text in rapid succession, and I was sending texts to Brian rapid-fire. Our oldest two kiddos were in class at our local learning center and he wanted to know if he needed to come home. I told him to come home to be with our youngest and I was going to go get my sister.
I messaged my sister and grabbed one of my medications and started driving with the intent of going straight to my sisters house. Less than a mile from the house, I saw Brian texted me, so I pulled off the road to see the message – safety first, right? He asked if I wanted him to go with me or stay home with the kids? My heart responded, “If I’m going to say goodbye to my Mom, I’m doing it with my family by my side” and in a split-second decision, I messaged back and said go home and get her ready, I’m picking up the other two and will be back to get you both.
As I drove to pick up my oldest two, I called Lisa. I told her what Holy Spirit said when I read her message, and that I was headed to Paducah where Mom was in the hospital. She prayed with me. I picked up our oldest two, went home and picked up Brian and our youngest, then we drove to my sister’s and picked her up.
Mom was gone before we made it to Paducah to the hospital.
The months that have followed have been some of the hardest months of my entire life.
NOTHING can prepare you for the loss of your mother. Especially considering that my Mom died the day before my birthday, so instead of picking up the phone on my birthday to hear my Mom sing off tune, I was sitting in a funeral home helping my Dad and sister pick out an urn to hold her cremains.
And yet, I was somehow oddly prepared for a dark night of the soul. Or the continuation, and deepening, of the dark night that I had been in. Had it not been for the season that preceded Mom’s death, I’m not sure how I would have endured it. Had it not been for the books I’d read leading up to it, the conversations I’d had, the research I’d done regarding the necessity of winter and night… I’m not sure where I’d be right now.
There are still days that are so incredibly hard. When breathing itself seems like such a hard task.
But I keep reminding myself that Aaron’s rod not only budded, but it also blossomed and produced ripe almonds when left overnight before the Lord in the abernacle of witness (Numbers 17). May it be that the season of dark night has produced in me ripe fruit that will last and bear witness to the goodness of the Lord.
