The following is an excerpt of a letter I received from one of my sons for Mother’s Day.
. . . Maybe I’ve said some of this stuff before, and if I have let’s just chalk it up to that fact it bears repeating.
First, thank you for being my mom. Its cliche to say you’re the best mom in the world, and you’d argue you aren’t, but I am tremendously grateful for you, and I can’t imagine having any mother but you. A recurring theme in your letters to us boys seems to be apologies for not doing things better/differently, and who knows how things would have turned out if you had. I do know that I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t be the father I am today without my memories of how you parented us. I wouldn’t be the husband I am today without the guidance you’ve given me.
You say “you don’t mean that, but that’s ok” when I say “I miss you too,” and to an extent you are right. I return the sentiment partly because I’m never sure how to respond. I don’t miss you often. Not the same way I miss Honey, or Gran and PaPa, or old friends from school, or old pets. That’s because, as cliche as it sounds, I rarely feel like you aren’t with me.
Beyond being able to pick up the phone and call, text, video chat, email, or contact you in numerous possible ways, you are with me when I go about my day to day life. You are with me when I watch the kids playing and just enjoy their presence. You are with me when they ask why I’m staring at them and I say I’m just enjoying watching them and smile the smile I’ve seen you give so many times; the smile that is mixed with the sadness of knowing the moment won’t last forever. You are with me when I’m consoling hurt feelings or breaking up fights or trying to give advice because everything I say and do is informed by times you did those things for me. You are with me even during little things like: -vacuuming when I like to get the carpet in a specific pattern like you did,
-cleaning bathrooms when I clean spots (not easily cleaned) because that’s how you taught me,
-when I’m driving with the windows down and the AC on because I remember you having the revelation you don’t have to roll the windows up just because H&G did it that way
-when I’m making the bed and I could make a hospital corner fold. I don’t because I followed your example and realized I don’t have to do it that way just because you did, but I could if I wanted to because you taught me how.
So, thank you for being my mom. Thank you for shaping who I am and instilling me with so many values, skills, and memories. Thank you for allowing me not to miss you as much as you miss me specifically because of those values, skills, and memories. Thank you.
I have read it over and over again, crying each time—happy tears, healing tears, grateful tears.
Have you ever said or thought that you just do not feel like God is with you, that She is far away? Have you ever asked for “God with skin on?” Or what about the question “Where are you God?” when going through difficult trials.
How can I be as aware of God’s presence with me as my son is about my presence with him?
Isn’t this what the apostle Thomas was expressing in the Upper Room? After Christ appeared to the disciples in Thomas’s absence, he says “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” (John 20: 24-29)
Was Thomas really expressing doubt or was he just wanting what all of us want, the comfort of a deep consciousness of His presence, that we are not alone, that God is with us?
A week later, Jesus reappears to the disciples gathered once again in the Upper Room this time with Thomas present. Remarkably, Jesus does not chastise Thomas. Instead He says: “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”
The last part of verse 27 in the Complete Jewish Bible reads: “Don’t be lacking in trust, but have trust!”
Thomas was not wavering, hesitating or having misgivings. He had just been through a harrowing and traumatic experience. He was given and accepted the opportunity to deepen his trust.
The decision to trust God is not just a once in a lifetime experience. Trusting God is a daily devotion. Given our current worldly circumstances, trusting God may need to be a moment to moment remembering.
Jesus responded to Thomas by saying: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe (trust).” I know many people use this verse to develop a theology about faith. Perhaps there is another angle upon which to meditate . . .
. . . what if Jesus is saying “There may be times when you will feel like I am not around, but trust me anyway.”
This morning while appreciating the perfection of Her creation, I became saddened over humanity’s mismanagement and destruction of our glorious home. Just as tears were beginning to roll down my cheeks, five Finches swooped and flew in a formation better than anything I have ever seen performed by the Blue Angels. They soared in concert, shifting flight positions with ease and grace. Their aerial tactics lasted little more than a minute, but left me astonishingly awed.
What a beautiful, God-given opportunity for me to place my hands in Her side and see and feel Her nail-scarred hands and feet . . . “Trust me.”
If we are alert and watchful, these experiences—“values, skills and memories”–to deepen our trust are all around us, and we can begin to be as awakened to God’s presence with us as my son is of mine with him.
Psalm 139 verses seven through twelve says:
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Or perhaps a poem by Hafiz is more to your liking:
God courts us with the beauty
of this world.
The Beloved courts us with music,
and any touch that quiets,
or can excite a heart
to such an extent
it will look like a radiant applause.
. . . thank you, son . . .