Hosea 2:14 ” Therefore I am going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her”

Mourning- the process of facing the reality of expectations. Sometimes mourning isn’t about a physical death of someone. Sometimes its about the loss of what never was. I had to mourn the physical loss of Cameron as well as the what never would be. With my mom I have had to mourn the reality she isn’t capable of being what I want, desire or need. I also, had to mourn the reality that no one will ever be it. Even though, it would take nothing but a millisecond for me to pick someone to fill that void inside me. The reality truly is I have already done that. I had picked.

A therapist once said- my fear. Yes I am afraid of therapists. I am afraid of them because they want to talk about vulnerability and emotions. I can write about them but I don’t enjoy at any level talking about emotions.

Anyway, I had one tell me once how I sought out the need I desired. I had as many father figures as I had moms. And they all uniquely served a purpose in my life. Some were there just for a short period, others bounced in and out, while others had this more constant line in my life. Each served an amazingly unique purpose for me. Each shaped me as a woman after God’s own heart. I watched them raise their kids, love their husbands, and live life daily. I watched a few of them go deep into the trenches of life. What do I mean? I watched them hit bottom, some lost a husband, others lost a child, while others fought for their marriage. And while I looked on from a distance, sometimes as a youth other times a bit older- I was amazed. They didn’t throw a tantrum, they didn’t yell and scream. They didn’t throw things. They didn’t curse at the world. These women, were strong! They hurt, it was obvious, but they held tighter, prayed harder, while their faith was being tested. I often stood in awe of how they remained faithful to God. I respected them. Sometimes they annoyed me- I mean their words of wisdom was sometimes hard for me to hear and listen to. Something I seemed to have been gifted with was the ability to hear, and file it a way. And I did file it a way for a rainy day- and I had my storms coming. Just as I sat at a funeral for one of those families as they experienced a tragic loss, I too would one day sit where they sat-broken. Just as I watched multiple couples fight for their marriage. I too, would one day have to give up my control of my marriage and give it to God- to heal and bring about His purpose. Just as I watched them parent their kids and want to give up, I too would have to wrestle with parenting and want to give up. Their remarkable faith in a God, who heals the brokenhearted, takes the least and makes them strong, and leads us all when we relinquish our control. I can stand in awe of the simply amazing, faithful, and strong women God threw in my path- even if it cost me a little scolding, discipline, and refining. It cost them a few more eye rolls, and  a little more sass- all from me.

Mother.

I wanted a mother- I wanted to believe the relationship would change into what I pictured, but a day was coming where I had to let go of my expectations of a mother. I was going to have to mourn her and mourn the fact that I would never be like other girls. I mean those moms who have filtered and formed me, they love me. They are proud of me- at least I think they are, but they are women with their own families to love and nurture and me- well I am just not theirs and never will, my jigsaw piece will never fit into their families. I am not normal. I have trouble reaching out. I have trouble saying I love you. I have trouble feeling connected to them, the way normal people do. I didn’t grow up with them filling me in that close intimate way a mother loves her child. Even though, I walked beside those families, I was always walking on the outside. And on the outside you walk along hoping to one day belong to which you can’t.

I would have and did have the occasional moments where I was treated like I was their kid. I had a woman once when I was in high school- I guess scold me you might say, but I didn’t think much of it, but she apologized to me. And I have never forgotten her words. “I am sorry, sometimes I forget your not my daughter. And I sometimes say things that I would say to my own” Those words were powerful. Why? They are powerful because I needed to be scolded, and because she did it and claimed me even for a few minutes as her daughter- I felt a belonging.

Process.

I had to process through how to love my mom for being a human that God loves. I had to process through forgiving her. I had to mourn her. I had to let her go. And for me at this time it has been to let her go and put the her to rest for my heart to find peace.

Forgiving, when the wound is still open. Forgiving and when the wound is beginning the process of closing.

I had to go before God. I had to go to my knees. I had to sit at the feet of Jesus. I had to sit there in solitude. I had to sit there and let the tears slide, fight the vulnerability within me, and process all that what was, all of what is, and all of what can never be. I had to pray for her. I had to forgive her. I had to mourn the loss of her. I had to mourn the loss of never belonging to a family.

To be continued…

Hosea 2:14 ” Therefore I am going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her”