This was my 5th Mother’s Day without Mom which truthfully makes me cringe a bit. Time just keeps marching on and won’t slow down for anyone or anything. 5 seems like a lot. 5 seems older rather than newer. 5 seems like it shouldn’t hurt or carry as much weight. 5 seems easily forgotten by others. I could feel all the different emotions swirling around. I recognized them. Called them by name. I try to be super intentional with days like Mother’s Day which if I let it, could sweep me into myself rather than into others. I don’t want that. I’ve done the holidays where I let grief take too much so I just waved my white flag and gave in. I can feel the healing. I know God has restored and renewed and redeemed. I’m not the same person I was in November of 2011 or maybe more importantly, I’m not the same person I was in November of 2012. I’ve done the dark days and I’ve come toe-to-toe with God…all my complaints and “how dare you”s and “the world owes me now” comments easily flying from my mouth. But I know better now. I know healing, redemption, mercy, love and forgiveness…all of which I so desperately needed extended to me from Him.
I finished up Color of Goodbye by September Vaudrey last week and it was amazing. I can’t even tell you how much I loved this book and all the weird, quirky truths about grief she talks about. I tore through it’s pages shaking my head in confirmation, crying, laughing and underling with my pen. My favorite portion from the book hands down was the following:
“I began to notice that the people I looked up to most had this in common: life had dealt them deep pain or disappointment, from the death of a loved one or from divorce or a significant illness or the demands of raising a special-needs child – any type of life alternating loss. But rather than becoming stalled in their grief or letting it drive them to bitterness, over time they became more alive, more joyful and wiser than might have been possible before they acquainted with heartache. They had allowed their sorrow to do its transforming work in their souls. They had stewarded their pain well. I wanted to be like those people.”
I want to be like that too. I want to be so very very intentional with my life because I’ve only got one.
I felt all the feelings and emotions rising up…I wish Mom was here, I wish I could remove the loss which is embedded in Solomon and Amon’s stories, I wish our littlest could go home, I wish I could fix the heaviness this day carries for so many others. I could feel them all as the week pressed forward towards Sunday. So I fixed my eyes on what was at hand…who are women in my life who need to be celebrated now…who needs encouragement and love…”when you don’t know what to do for yourself, you can always do for others.”
Mother’s Day was good. I felt like I had a good handle on my emotions…I felt like I had been intentional and stewarded my pain well. I woke up to the 5 most beautiful children in all the land bringing me eggs and bacon and doting cards they had written and colored and drawn themselves. Hudson’s card even said “You are the smartest Mom ever.” Nailed it.
I made two requests for Mother’s Day 1) That our laundry room get it’s last and final coat of white paint and 2) That we hit up the cemetery early so we could beat the crowd 🙂 Cemetery’s are hoppin’ on holidays. Both requests were met.
Every year we take pretty flowers, rice krispy treats and a quilt out to Mom’s grave and just do our thing. The kids always form a game of hide and seek behind head stones. This year I laughed so hard as I watched Harper in the distance lifting our littlest up so she could touch the fake Jesus headstone statue. This is just us. This is normal which is hilariously wonderful. At our library book sale this week Harper brought me over a book about talking to your kids about death and grief. She showed it to me and laughed, “Well we don’t need this one do we.” Death isn’t a touchy subject around our house and the cemetery isn’t creepy, but delightful to our small tribe. It stings a bit, but also is incredibly lovely in it’s own weird way.
We celebrated Solomon and Amon’s birth mommas by letting them each pick out flowers to plant in our yard in honor of them. I cried. I wanted to pick Solomon up and squeeze him into a thousand pieces when he insisted on carrying his flowers the whole time. He was so proud of what he picked out and I was so proud of him. We celebrated Josh’s mom the rest of the day. Yummy food and dessert, baseball in the yard, darts, jump rope, lively conversations and grandkids everywhere. Our littlest’ momma joined us for lunch and toted her around the majority of the afternoon. One of Mom’s friends called me to tell me he thought I was a great momma. I cried. He didn’t have to do that, but he thought about me on a day that isn’t ideal and decided he needed to speak some life giving words into me and I could not have been more grateful. The day was really quite extraordinary and beautiful and painful…hahahaha…isn’t that life.
When the day was over and every Kelley kid was asleep I sat on our bed and just sobbed letting every last emotion fly. Josh Kelley came in and I told him every single thought I was feeling and it felt so good just to let each one go verbally…out loud to another human…to know I was heard. It was all those emotions like how I miss being someone’s kid…someone’s daughter…how on Earth is our littlest’s story going to end…what is God up to…how will He use Solomon and Amon’s loss…how I’m just recently letting myself love, love our foster daughter. I let that good hard cry go and I let the words fall from my mouth and into Josh Kelley’s ears and relief and peace followed. I felt better. We enjoyed sandwiches and ice-cream with homemade chocolate sauce afterwards for dinner by ourselves and it was just the right ending to a grand day.
What I know is just because a day looks differently than it use too…just because a day feels heavier than others…does not mean it still cannot be incredible and life giving. Pain, joy, beauty, loss and extraordinary things can all coexist with one another. They can all surprisingly go hand-in-hand and make up some amazing days and life long memories. God’s goodness always reigns.
Happy Tuesday.
Loading tweets...
I used your last paragraph as my status on FB today. Last week I found out a very good friend of mine who is only 28, married and with 2 small children has been diagnosed with cancer. What you said in that last paragraph is how I feel right now. Thank you for always being so real!
Cant even imagine!!!
As I read your blog I can’t help but cry! Tears of joy really, tears that God has allowed you to see his Grace through all of your heart ache!! I pray for you and your family, you simply amaze me at your words of hurt for you but encouragement for others!! Keep your light shining!!!
He is so so freakin’ good!!! Thank you for the kind words.
Your blog hit home today as I was sitting in the Kroger parking lot. Grief is a funny thing, and I appreciate you giving it life. 5 years ago, a few weeks after my wedding, my very best friend died suddenly at 32, leaving behind her husband and 2 year old son. He knows it was the day she moved to heaven. A couple of years later my grandmother aka second mother made her move to heaven and just recently my father did. Grief is something carried around like a backpack – some days it’s heavier than others…some days it’s rearranged and manageable. It’s always there but it doesn’t have to pull you to the ground. I am a changed person because of it, mostly for the better. I see so much good in the world whereas before I probably passed it right on by. Like my husband, the.very.best in a crisis. Or when I decided to not tackle Kroger today and instead went to Panera where I ran into a fantastic young woman who I taught her 7th grade year 10 years ago. Grief causes you to be more intentional about everything and shows you what really matters. It’s crappy and it sucks, but also shines a light on God’s grace and beauty. I appreciate you and your blog and your realness!
Death is just so hard and God is so relentless in His love for us.
So beautiful words spoken so well girl! Loved this post.
Thank you Robin!
Your bitter-sweet words hit home for me, only from the opposite position. It’s hard to have Mothers Day when there is no child to share it with. My son, Jeremy passed away in December, 2012. He was very ill due to effects of Lupus. My only child, my 4th Mothers Day without him. Plus, it was my birthday. I dreaded the day all week. But, I have several dear, dear friends that blessed me with hugs, cards, flowers and cake that made it a memorable day. God bless you and your sweet family. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don’t. But God does bless our efforts.
No words. I cannot even imagine the deep pain and grief. Praying for your heart.
This was my 5th one, too. It doesn’t seem to get easier, does it?
Praying for your heart. Mine has eased, but some days just catch me off guard.
❤️ Thank you. Prayers for you, too!
Grief is just a weird, weird thing. Many times I think I’ve nailed it and then I realize by thinking that, the next thing without that person is that much harder. I love your raw, honest heart and I KNOW you help so, so many. I try to focus on all the beautiful things God brings forth from that loss and it helps…and I find when I do that, God clearly shows me examples in the most random day to day thing. Your mom- man, she was just so dang good. I miss her and sometimes her voice will pop in my head and I laugh out loud. She was just good and you are so good too! Love you, sweet friend.
Love you.
I read that book also and thought she did an excellent job with her words. When you experience a grief so hard and so deep, where there are no words to explain…..and someone writes a book to try to explain in words where no words can explain….. well I love to read those books. And this momma did an excellent job! As do you in your blog. It is hard and I understand. God bless you!
Crazy kind words and I could not love this book more. She did a phenomenal job.
Laura … I can’t tell you enough how much I love your authenticity and open heart. Your words are so powerful and real and honest. You don’t shy away from the tough stuff, and I find that so refreshing and sacred. I could totally relate to the quote – ”when you don’t know what to do for yourself, you can always do for others.” Thanks for sharing so openly about your Mom and the struggles with raising all your children – foster, adopted, and bio. You inspire me!
Too too kind! I’m a giant hot mess, but I kind of think others are too 🙂 And we’re all in this together.
You are such a prolific writer with the ability to put into words emotions others struggle to verbalize. You have such a hugely generous , loving heart. Your family is so blessed to have you! And we, your readers are blessed by you too!
This made my heart just soar. I always hope people can relate to my wild brain and the crazy way I feel like I write. Thanks for reading and for encouraging me!!!! Crazy kind.
Thank you for always being so open and transparent in your writing. That is so rare these days. I just cried my eyeballs out reading this. This is such a beautiful post.
Laura you and your family always touch my heart I so can relate to so many things you say and always speak right to my heart. You are such a blessing to me and always your family is in my prayers. I was able to foster to adopt and have lost my mama too at a young age so I know your mama would be so proud of you. I hope you have the best day thinking and praying for you in this thing we call life. Love Tara ❤️