Tag Archives: life

Our mortal Ills

Posted on by
Reply

It was a typical Sunday morning. Mom and Dad were up in the choir loft. My older sisters were sitting in the high school pew where I, aged ten, was definitely not allowed. I was sitting with the deacons in my favorite spot: at the back, with a clear view of everyone and everything that went on in the sanctuary.


Only this time the overflow room was open, which meant that there were people behind me, too. But I was okay with that. No big deal.
The service began and I stood dutifully for the first hymn, holding the blue hymnal and singing loudly.


“A mighty fortress is our God!” I sang out. “A bulwark never failing.”
And suddenly my tummy groaned. Not in an “I’m hungry” kind of way. But rather in an “I’m going to be sick” kind of way. But it had been drilled into me that I was supposed to stay in church and not leave. I was to use the restroom prior to the service and I was not to exit the room for any reason. I was to sit beside the deacons and not budge.
So I ignored my tummy’s warnings. And kept on singing.


“A helper he amid the flood / of mortal ills prevailing.”


It was as if Martin Luther was a prophet or something, because, wow, my mortal ills totally prevailed that day.


I threw up. Right there in the middle of church. And all those poor people in the overflow room knew it.


The deacons were very helpful. So was my school bus driver, who jumped up and led me to the bathroom.


Mom and Dad, way up in the choir loft, were oblivious.


I got cleaned up. The floor kinda did, too. I began to feel a little bit better. So, I returned to the sanctuary.


Yes, I did. I wasn’t supposed to leave, remember? I honestly never even considered that maybe this was one of those times when to skip the service would have been okay.


I sat down on my pew. I probably got a lot of dubious looks from the deacons. I swung my feet. I kinda listened to the sermon. And then, suddenly, it happened again.


All over the floor, all over myself.


My parents, now sitting in the front, were still oblivious. My sisters ought to have noticed but they pretended not to.


God bless those deacons.


I saw one of them a maybe ten years ago, when I was back visiting my old church. He was stooped. White hair. I thought he was old back when I was a kid, but he can’t have been that far off of what I am now. Most of the rest of them have gone on to be with Jesus, where no one throws up during service and they don’t have to mop up the results of our mortal ills.


The truth, of course, is that Luther was writing not about the stomach flu…but about sin. The true “mortal ill” that prevails within us. And Jesus, Luther’s “man of God’s own choosing” is sitting beside us, ready and willing to mop up our failings.


All we need to do is ask.


“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9.

A mother’s view of graduation

Posted on by
4

There is nothing that prepares you for the emotions you face as your last child graduates from high school. It doesn’t matter how many people say things like, “Just be happy for her.” Or, “Don’t cry, it’s a great milestone.” Or, “Think of all the places you can travel as empty nesters!” Or, the worst, “Don’t keep focusing on these ‘lasts’”.

I will focus on these lasts if I want to focus on these lasts. I want and need to cherish these moments and not forget what it feels like to be a mother of a high school senior. To be a mother of a high schooler. To be a mother.

And actually, I think that’s okay.

When our first child graduated, seven years ago, I don’t recall being a total wreck. He was so ready to go off to college. So excited to see new things and be done with the old. 

When senior year began for our middle child two years later, I warned the remaining family that September, “You know I’ll be crying off and on all year, right?” 

“Yeah, Mom, we know.”

But then along came Covid 19 and the entire second half of her year was so unusual that when we walked, masked-up, into her high school to record her commencement speech, it felt so joyful that at least she could do this little thing that the tears were weirdly absent – I just couldn’t stop smiling.

Now it’s five years later and I’ve been cherishing the lasts all the more because our middle child missed so many of them. She missed prom. She missed her last orchestra, band, and choir concerts. She missed graduation with its parties and ceremonies and public awards. 

This third time around, each one of these events feels precious – almost sacred – and I am not taking them for granted. 

Please understand, I am not using that word sacrilegiously. If something is “sacred” or “holy” in the Bible, it means that thing is set apart. Sure, generally we use these words in a religious context, but we also speak of “sacred spaces”, a room or building or outdoor location that is “set apart” in purpose and feeling. It is held as a special place that one can go in order to, ideally, commune with God or nature or even one’s own self. 

Well, I do believe that these “lasts” are set apart, cherished moments, not only for my graduate, but for me. Set apart for me to breathe it all in. The recognitions, sure, the proud moments, yes, but also just set apart to bathe in the sheer ecstasy of being a mother.

Are all mothering moments ecstatic? Ummm…in the understatement of eternity…no. No, they are not. And that’s why I choose to revel in the ones that are. 

I choose to celebrate with tears and smiles and Facebook posts and phone calls and texts and more tears. I choose to brag about my child. I choose to invite friends to rejoice with me. I choose to cherish every. Single. Moment. 

Because being a mother is hard stinkin’ work. And I deserve this sacred time as much as my daughter does.

So if you see me crying at this event or that, if you’re talking to me and I suddenly burst into tears, if you question why I skipped a meeting or chose not to go to work one day, please understand this: I am cherishing all these moments, and it’s rather overwhelming.

But in a good way. In a marvelous, heart-bursting-with pride, wonderful kind of way.