20 Months

Twenty months. That’s how long it’s been since mom died. Twenty months since her last voice mail on my phone (yes, I still have many, I just can’t delete them.)

In the last 20 months, I’ve wrapped up my time at one school, applied and accepted a position at another, watched as my husband retired and un-retired (that’s another story), started the “rent to own” process with a house in a new town, started the new job, continued to write for publications, started a new speech and drama team (no debate yet), and started teaching freshman English.

I’ve also (with the Lawman) church hopped a bit, looking for our new church home, as well as spent time exploring the region to find the best coffee/tea shops (both local and franchise) and bookstore options.

For the record, I’ve found THREE fantastic independent bookstores within an hour drive.

Tired yet? We’ll just call the last 20 months the “season of change” in my life.

The funny thing is, I didn’t truly think about everything like this, until God used three friends – independently of each other – to speak into my life this week.

It started with a two-hour phone conversation with a long-distant friend. As we caught up on each other’s worlds, she preceded to tell me how much better I sounded then the last time we talked.

We started to process all of the things that’s happened – the good and bad – and looked for where God’s been moving.

Sometimes when you are in the moment, you only have an up-close perspective – kinda like when you are painting a mural; you only see what’s immediately in front of you.

It’s only when you step back, and look at the totality of the picture, you begin to see the entirety of the situation.

Life is different without mom. I still find myself wanting to talk with her about school. A kindergarten teacher by training, she loved working with students and people.

It’s funny, I’m the third generation to become a teacher – that too is another story. Even though initially mom encouraged me to do something different, in 2020 when I opened my first classroom, she was my biggest cheerleader.

A second friend told me grief is ok. She’s just startling the process, after losing her mother just a few weeks ago. Her statement to me still resinates. We miss them big, because we loved them big.

Tomorrow is mom’s birthday. It’s the second one without her. I wish I had some pithy words to write, or some amazing insight to share.

I know I’ll spend tomorrow resting from the last major speech tournament of the year, grading papers and remembering mom. I’ll probably have a cuppa tea, read a book, and maybe go have a meal that reminds me of her.

Grief is a double edged sword. It wouldn’t hurt, if we did’t love. It wouldn’t hurt if the ending hadn’t been sudden, and full of pain.

Today, I’m focusing on a verse from John 14:27 (NLT)

“I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give you is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.”

The Messuage – John 14:25b to 26) writes it like this:

“…The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught.”

Even in our grief, God has not abandoned us. We are not bereft, alone. The gift of peace is there. For me, I just need to be willing to accept it. To use it, as I navigate the grief. I need to accept it, and simply say, thank you.

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