Dear Mom

Dear Mom,
Happy Mother's Day. If you had asked me two weeks ago, this is not how I planned on spending this day. When you went into the hospital, I decided that we should really do something special for Mother's Day. I knew you'd be out of the hospital by then and we'd be able to celebrate you however we wanted. But obviously, that didn't work out quite like I expected it to, and today was actually one of the hardest days yet.
I miss you so much, and I can't help but think of how I wanted to spend time with you today, and how I should have wanted to spend more time with you when you were here. I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry that there were so many days that I would stay in my downstairs apartment, and not even come up to say, "Hi" to you. I'm so sorry that I was so bitter that I was still living at home with you. I'm so sorry that there were so many days that I was just a downright jerk to you. I would do anything to take those things back.
However, I am so thankful for how God was working in me and changing my heart in the week and a half before your death. I'm so thankful for all the time I did get to spend with you while I stayed with you in the hospital. I'm so thankful for the talks that we had and the friendship that we developed in those last days. I'm so thankful that I saw you mouth the words, "I love you" to me as you were being taken away to surgery. I'm so thankful that during my last visit with you, you were able to just be my mom and to comfort me, and that I didn't have to be your caretaker. I'm so thankful that the last words you spoke to me were, "I'm so proud of you."
You were a gift to us, even though we didn't always realize it. You were strong, hardworking, gracious, and loving. I would do anything to be able to look into your eyes and tell you that. I love you, and I miss you more than you could have imagined, and I hope to see you soon.
                                                                 
                                                                    Love,
                                                                 Stephanie

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Part 3

As a father shows compassion to his children,

 so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear Him. 

For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 103:13-14

The last two weeks have been the most difficult days of my life. I am honestly having a hard time remembering anything that happened before my mom went into the hospital. Memories of seeing her in the ambulance, having her admitted to the hospital, being with her when she passed out last Saturday morning, waiting through hours of surgery, crying to her as I had to leave her for the night in ICU, hearing the nurse tell us the news that she had died, have all consumed my mind. 

I don't want to be around people, but I don't want to be alone. I feel hungry, but eating puts my stomach in knots. I'm exhausted, but sleep does not come easily. I want to talk about it, but doing so frustrates me. I wake up every morning and beg God that this nightmare is over. But it never is. 

I was lying in bed Friday night, praying for the first time since Mom took her last breath, and all I could do was cry to Him. I begged Him for sleep. I begged Him to turn my mind off for just a few hours. I begged him for answers. 

I told Him this was too much. It was too hard. He was taking too much from my family. It was hurting too deeply. 

The answers I begged for never came; only this verse entered my mind. I know we're not "supposed to" get mad at God. I know we're not "supposed to" question His plan. But I kept feeling in my spirit that He was saying, "It's OK. I can take it."

The fact is, this is too much. It is too hard. I can't handle it, and He knows that. He knows my frame. He remembers that I am dust. And He doesn't expect me to handle it.

So for now, I'll keep crying to Him. I'll take comfort in knowing that He's listening. And I'll trust that He is still good.

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Part 2

If I had words, I would write them. The pain is unimaginable. It's physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. The loss is too deep. I know the words I wrote several days ago about my mother and my God are still true today. I'm unsure of everything else, but I'm sure of God's goodness.

Your prayers and messages have meant more than you can know. Please, keep them up.