Dear Mom,
First of all, oh how I miss you! I wonder if you miss me too, or if time for you is non-existent and you are excitedly anticipating our reunion as one would anticipate a guests’ arrival at any second. I like that thought better. But time is a funny thing – as it passes for me in this world, each month makes me love you even more and gives me even more gratitude for who you helped shape me into. And let me just say, I know how afraid you were of damaging your children through your failures. (Don’t worry, Mom. I feel that with my kids, too!) But if I could just tell you that even your fears are being redeemed to shape my character – that they are making my love for you grow ten-fold and spilling over into my parenting; that the memory of your smiles, your hugs, your laughter, and your unconditional love for me are making me a better person even now, I think you would rejoice with me!
While you rest in the reality of your journey’s end and I am waylaid here for purposes yet unknown to me, I remember you the way you are now – as I look back along my journey with you I see the foretaste of the person you are now while I was yet beside you. You were so beautiful, then. But you’re so much more beautiful now. You were so loved, then, but even more loved now. And you belong to the one you loved best in all the world.
I find myself wondering if birthdays are celebrated on the other side of the veil. In whatever way you are held between shadow and light, between the Garden and the new Jerusalem where you dwell in joy with your Christ, I wonder if your birthday into your first world is being remembered – celebrated – if God is rejoicing over you with singing, and if the loved ones that went before you are reveling in your personhood – your sainthood, and in your race being won. I wonder if they’re rejoicing in the crown upon your head, woven with jewels and flowers of daisies and sweet peas and roses. I don’t know. But I like to imagine it.
Though you, too, in some way, are awaiting the resurrection of the dead, I like to picture your joy crowning you even more beautifully than the diadem upon your head. It must be so glorious!
But I want you to know, that as I traverse my days here along the journey marked for me, I will love you more and more as each year passes. I will picture you at peace, without pain, and already I anticipate the hug you’ll give me when I see you again. It’ll be one for the books! Until then, my dearest mother, rest in your Savior’s love, and know that mine is ever increasing too, through that mysterious grace he offers to his children. (Though I must confess, that love already feels full to bursting!) And happy birthday, dear one. You are remembered and celebrated today – as you were, and as you are.
Always and into our Forever,
Your daughter,
Christina.
