A Tribute to my Mom

I sent this letter to my mom recently. Thought some of you might relate to this and the season preceding the loss of someone you had a strained relationship with because of your own issues and some of theirs. I will always be grateful that, although it's taking me some time and emotional effort, I am encouraged and urged to treat my mother with what I hope is the love and honour she deserves in these, her last days. The one thing I have found impossible to do with either of my parents is tell them I love them. That's all changing now. I thank God for changing me.

Dear Mommy,
You sounded so down this weekend when I spoke to you...it prompted my heart to write you something that I hope will mean lots to you and cheer you up whenever you look at it during your time left here with us.

Here are some things I want you to know mean so much to me as your daughter that you played such a part in.

You taught me how to live my faith in Jesus Christ, even though I turned away from Him for 12 long years. I know that you prayed for me to come home all those years and He answered your prayers because, like the prodigal son, I did come back.

You taught me how to pray. Especially to begin my prayers with “thank you for...” in faith. God hears and He answers every one of my prayers in His own sovereign way, even in ways I wish He didn’t but He knows best. I trust that implicitly. He is good, even when things in my life go bad.

I still have so many items that remind me how much you care (too many to mention) – like medicine you packed together in little first aid kits for me with migraine tablets and pain tablets. And the foot care items. The little manicure kit you gave me. The clothes you sewed and made for me that Christmas you and Dad spent with me – those were special times when you measured and fitted me with those outfits and I’m so happy to wear them, knowing how you put your heart into making them for me. I often use the pin cushion you gave me. I still have that hankerchief with special oil on it. And the cushions for my lounge, even though they’re boxed away right now until someday I have my own home again. The sticky note pad you got for me. The underwear that mothers specially pick out for daughters.

Can you believe I still have that pepper you gave me Christmas 2006? One of the hardest things about losing that flat was that we spent a special time in it together as a family. Especially at the diningroom table when we had Christmas lunch together. It was my home I could share with you. I cried when I gave away that table because I couldn’t take it with because I didn’t even know where I was going. I’m so glad we got that Christmas together. Thanks for bringing the tree and decorations.

Thanks for my childhood memories, even though some weren’t good. That wasn’t your fault.

I was remembering those egg flips you made me when I almost died with diabetes. If you thought you were a sloppy housewife, you were still a great mom. I remember how you described my head rolling off my pillow when I was so ill and you knew something was desperately wrong. It takes a good mother to notice something like that. And do something about it. I know you and Dad made financial sacrifices when I had to go onto a special diet of marie biscuits and liqui-fruit, because you were struggling while I had to eat the right foods as a diabetic. Thank you for doing that for me. For all the financial sacrifices you made for me that I never thanked you for.

I showed those snapshots of you to people I talk to about you often. You were and still are such a beautiful woman. I don’t know if Roy Muller knew that properly.

Thank you for taking care of Grandpa the way you did. He meant so much to me and you made his last years here special.

I still look at my black canvas portfolio and think of how you paid for that for me, as well as my college fees. Thank you for supporting me.

Thank you for all those amazing cakes you baked for my birthdays.

There are some things I regret.

Like moving so far away from you and Dad. You learn when you’re older that you can never get those years away back again. Family is still so important. Despite the damaged years, that realisation is one of the truest things I know now.

I don’t know if you’ll meet my husband – God hasn’t introduced him to me yet. If it hadn’t been for my wasted years of foolishness, I might have been happily married already. I don’t know.

I’m sorry I never gave you grandchildren.

Mommy, I don’t know how many years you have left...maybe just those three or four the oncologist said. But I’m glad we’ve made peace with that. I hope Daddy will soon, too. I’m glad we know that you’re going to an ever-evolving Kingdom that is all peace and perfection and reunion with God and long-lost loved ones, including Granny and Grandpa and Bollie. And others.

I’m so glad for that day at the beach we had together, too. Just us. And that last day at the beach we had as a family.

You’re the reason I won’t move to Cape Town just yet, if I’m even supposed to. I’m sorry I broke your heart when I moved away from Durban.

I know you love me – it has only occurred to me how much in these latter years of my life. All those times I wasn’t coping with life and wished I was dead, I’m glad I’m still alive and didn’t let you down so that you lost both your children. I want you to know just how much I love you. I don’t want to try and say this at your graveside when it’s too late.

It breaks my heart to watch you go through the pain and physical disintegration you’re experiencing with the cancer now, but I know the eternal inheritance God is preparing for you far outweighs the pain and loss in ways we cannot begin to see. Even if it’s impossible to imagine right now. It awaits you...Jesus adores you and can’t wait to lavish it upon you! I thank God for that promise.
“...Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” 1 Cor 2v9

I love you lots and lots, Mommy.
All my love,
Muffet
xxx