May she who gave you birth be happy. ~ Proverbs 23:25
I still call my mom, mommy. Sometimes mother when I think she can’t hear me (she does). And Chrisy Chris when I’m being a little extra (her name is crystal). It causes her to roll her eyes and laugh a little bit.
I’m currently in Chiang Mai, Thailand and she’s back home in good ol’ Concord, North Carolina.
This is an open thank you to not just my mom, but every mom who, with tears in their eyes, let their “little one” go to dangerous and broken places. Not to adventure, but to seek.
Dear Mommy,
It’s the first time I’m without you on Mother’s Day. It’s also the first time I’m physically living the life I would so often talk about. I know it wasn’t an easy decision for you to let me go. I know it was unsettling to your heart that I would have hard days ahead. I know the thought of me crying and suffering didn’t make your heart rejoice.
But you let me go.
Remember when I was little and I would tell you all my skyscraper dreams? For a while I wanted to be a neurologist and then it was a lawyer, and so on and so on. And you would tell me the same thing every single time: “you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.” You allowing me to have skyscraper dreams has allowed me to have skyscraper prayers. Because of you, I didn’t pray to have a nation or two, I asked for an entire continent. And when the time to go came a lot sooner than we could have imagined, it was hard.
But you let me go.
When I was dedicated to the Lord as a baby, you let me go.
When I outgrew my soft sole shoes and began to balance on my own, you let me go.
When I finally had enough courage to ride on two wheels and not four, you let me go.
When I decided I wanted to play soccer like Mia Hamm, you let me go.
When I also found my true passion was softball, you let me quit and then let me go.
When I decided that Jesus wasn’t worth it, you let me go.
You stopped yelling. You stopped dragging. And you just prayed. You let me go.
When I found that He is all I want, you celebrated. And you let me go…again.
And when I would come into your room with tears running down my face, you’d let me lay there.
You saw that He was giving me a heart and vision bigger than anything we could imagine. I would tell you about different people groups I had found via the Joshua Project. I’d tell you what He would reveal to me that day. And then I told you about the race. And we sat in that same bed and talked about how could this possibly happen. In that same bed, for the first time you told me to seek another way. It shocked me more than made me upset. But I don’t blame you mommy. You saw me give a lot away and also go through a lot. You also let me go…a lot. In that same bed, I sat there and told you how the Lord provided like crazy in one night, and there was nothing to say other than, “well God shut me up, you’re going to launch”.
And you let me go again.
This time we knew it’d be different. We knew that everything was about to change.
You have taught me and prepared me for motherhood in more ways that one. But most of all, you’ve taught me that motherhood is a bunch of letting go. And it sucks sometimes. I learned that with Fernando. Not a day or moment goes by when I don’t think about that little chunker. It’s hard sometimes letting your child go into the hands of the Lord, and trusting Him that He will do what He said. I see that now. And I can’t wait to do the same with my own children one day. You have taught me courage and bravery. You taught me to love without any boundaries and to stop for everyone. You taught me that nothing comes easy, but hard work does pay off. You taught me to seek and go, and that’s something I’ll never lose. You also taught me don’t experiment with new foods on your young kids because they’ll end up telling your parents “there is never anything at home to eat” and they get a little worried. You taught me it’s okay to let your creative daughter paint in random places of the house (and driveway). You taught me tons mommy. Thank you for that.
Also, thank you for choosing us when it was hard. I’ve seen, heard, and held the kids who were given up when it got too hard. Sadly, it’s more common than we think.
Thank you mommy for letting me go. You might have thought you were raising a neurologist or lawyer or politician, but in fact you did one better. You raised a missionary. I love you.
