I stare at a pair of old time portraits my parents made years ago, and looking down, realize that I’ve dressed in one of her shirts today. It’s started again, unconsciously, this yearly counting down to the day in mid-March that marks the date when she gave birth to me, her first child, and also passed from this world seven years ago.
A friend calls, needs to talk, to process her recent birth experience, and I am back in the room where I delivered my seventh child, just six months before my mother’s death, when she held my new baby in the middle of the night and I hemorrhaged, unseen (we never told her).
I relive the eighth birth, culmination of nine months of confusion and wonder that my body didn’t understand what my mind assumed: that surely there would be no more children with her gone. “Lord, why did you give me eight children and take my mother?” I’d questioned.
Later that child would be the saving of me at a time I desperately needed a mother’s presence.
I look in the mirror and I see my father’s eyes; my mother’s and grandfather’s cheekbones; my grandmother’s chin. I see another grandmother’s hands that remember family recipes; an aunt who could also lose herself in words on a page; another who embodied silent strength.
And I feel loss, deep, overwhelming. Loss of these influences that molded me, all gone save one, my daddy.
And then I see Him.
In that moment I am overcome—no longer by what I’ve lost, but by what I possess.
I cannot outlive Him.
I cannot outlove Him.
He will never leave nor forsake me.
And it’s enough. It will always be enough.
Are you sometimes overcome by the pain and pressures of this world? Here’s a gentle reminder: the Lord of all creation is there for you—If God be for us, who can be against us?
By Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet HomeLeave a Comment