One of the more permanent memories of my mom growing up was how she comforted us and helped heal those dark days and bring light into them.

I had to get a TB booster shot when I was six and my mom took me.  I have little memory of that particular day other than standing in line with a bunch of other kids with someone poking me at the end of it; it hurt a ton.  My mom took me home to watch cartoons and offered me what was at that time a treat; a bottle of pepsi, old school pepsi that was in an 8 ounce bottle and I had to use the can opener on.  Needless to say it was wonderful.

There were also many scratches, scrapes, bruises inflicted on me by life that were treated as well.  This sounds made up, but remember the scene in ‘A Christmas story’ when Ralphie comes home after beating up the bully and his mom took him into the bathroom and ran a warm washcloth over his face?  That was totally my mom.  I first saw that movie and laughed thinking ‘You mean other people do that too’?  (Go ahead and make fun of me at your keyboard. :) ). 

I think one of the tools God approached me with following my mom’s death was that of community.  I was surrounded by a community that didn’t shoot their wounded but instead loved them well.  My roomates, both alumni of Intervarsity, cleaned my room (no small feat) and bought me a case of my favorite soda.  There were quite a few people who just loved me by letting me cry on their shoulder alot.  My friends even came down the night before my mom died and visited her in the hospital. My best friend even lent me her teddy bear, a prized posession, to keep me company one particularly bad night.

It was through these people I was re-introduced to a soverign God.  We watched ‘The Messengers’, a reality public speaking show, tonight.  The topic was death and one person mentioned their fear that they would ‘go before their time’ which I believe is an extremely trite phrase.  Einstein’s God doesn’t play with dice, Bono’s God isn’t short of cash, and my God doesn’t go freaking anywhere without his datebook.  ‘Going before their time’, to me mocks a God who orchestrates the Universe to the minute detail including our lives.  The Psalms state that we were knit together in our mother’s womb and our days were layed out. 

There’s a certain element of crulty to that, I suppose, but more so my God shows me a diseased, death racked world and says ‘Enjoy the ride, but boy this is not what I promised you’.  Death will come at a time appointed by a God who loves me and knows what’s behind door number 1. 

If you’ve read this far, thank you for humoring me.  I’m so appreciative of the nurturing communities that I’ve been a part of, am a part of, and will be a part of for the rest of my days on this planet. 

God graciously took my warm washcloth away, but gave me his hand, a case of pop and a winged teddy bear in its place.