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My mom and I were always pretty close. She had me when she was twenty-one and our birthdays were just ten days apart. She said I was her REAL birthday present that year.
Growing up we had a friendship that many mothers and daughters don’t have until they are both adults. If you’ve ever seen or heard of the show Gilmore Girls, it’s a pretty accurate representation of how my mom’s and my relationship worked. I definitely identified with the studious Rory Gilmore and my mom was very much the strong and sassy Lorelai.
While my mom was a best friend and I stayed close with my immediate family, my father was not a part of that picture. He had visitation rights every other weekend, but by the time I was in third grade the visits had dwindled to an occasional phone call to let us know he could actually make it that weekend, and eventually ceased altogether.
As I aged, my mom’s and my relationship continued to grow. We shared laughs over the silliest things and loved going shopping together. Sometimes we’d spend a whole Saturday just driving around to different places in town singing along with the music blasting from the radio.
When I was about 26 my mom got sick. She still shined with all of her spunkiness and humor, but she got tired more easily. Saturday adventures became shorter and she found herself needing more and more rest. Trips to the hospital became a regular occurrence as well.
We talked about the future and all the reasons I wanted her to be around. I wanted her to be my maid of honor if I ever got married, and I wanted to see her as a grandmother full of whimsy and wonder if I ever had children.
“Mama,” I told her, “You have to live to be at least 80. I need you with me.” We shared the agreement time and again.
But God had other plans. In December of 2010 my mom had to go to the hospital one last time. The doctors told her that her kidneys were shutting down due to her illness and that the best they could do was make her comfortable. She nodded to them as I shook my head in denial.
“Tabby,” she said, when we were by ourselves. “I’m not going to make it to 80. But I love you, and I’ll be waiting for you in Heaven.” I broke into tears as my mom, the strong, brave fighter resigned herself to this new plan. I hugged her tightly, but I was stubborn. I wasn’t about to give up.
“God is bigger than we are,” I thought. “He can work miracles!”
Throughout that night my family gathered around her in the hospital room as she slept. I sat on one side of my mom, holding her hand and praying non-stop that God would give us a miracle. I knew He could do it. I believed He would do it. The same power that raised Lazarus from the tomb, that gave sight to the blind man, that healed the bleeding woman… God could certainly heal my mom in her illness! I had faith!
That night felt endless. And the next morning around 11:15am, my mom took her last breath, with me crying and still praying for a miracle.
I had so many questions when she died. “She was so young, God, why did You let this happen?” “What am I supposed to do without my best friend?” “What did we do to deserve this?” “Where are You even at, God?” Anger and pain filled every part of me.
Those questions weren’t unique to me. They’re things most of us have probably asked at some point in our lives. And God can handle our difficult questions. He isn’t afraid of them. I kept diving into my questions for Him by spending time in prayer and reading the Bible, talking with friends who pointed me to the church and to specific verses in scripture.
I’m not sure I got all of my questions answered. Maybe we’re not supposed to know some things on this side of Heaven. But now looking back at this situation, I can see how God used it. He took a scared and heartbroken 28-year-old girl who hadn’t been to church in several years and provided an unexpected route to a whole network of genuine, Christian friends and a way to not only join a church again, but to actively serve in different ways.
He provided comfort when I was sad. He brought me peace when I was restless. He showed me what being a real father means. He got me through that difficult time when I didn’t think I could get through it.
God didn’t give me the miracle I wanted on that December day, and my mom won’t ever get to meet my husband or any children we may have here on Earth. But I believe God is still good, and He still loves every one of us. He is always there, even when we face painful circumstances in the wilderness.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord--Romans 8:38-39
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