May 12, 2019

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!

I could celebrate hundreds of days that honor you. I am who I am because of your unconditional love, wisdom, countless prayers, encouragement, and so much more! Lately, I’ve been thinking about the way you discovered your faith in Jesus and how you desperately prayed to have two daughters. I know you and dad call us your miracle babies, but it is truly miraculous and my greatest honor that He chose me to be your daughter. You’re my best friend, who has always laughed, cried, sang, and talked with me through the best days and the worst days. You’ve modeled what it looks like to follow Jesus in your everyday life. You pray first and seek His guidance. You trust the Truth of His Word and fill our house with His praises. You always remind me that He is at work and that His Ways are higher than our ways. I’m praying for breakthrough this year. I’m praying that the four of us will see the answers to the prayers you’ve said for our family over many years. I’m praying this is the year for healing, freedom, strong relationships, and purpose for each of our lives. I love you, mama! With my whole heart to the moon and back! You are my greatest gift!

Xoxo,

Ellie

I wrote these words on the last Mother’s Day I spent with my mama here on earth. Their very existence is a tool the enemy has used to torture me over the last year. Because they’ve sat unopened. My heart on display through this card were never read by my mom. As a person who loves celebrations, words, and telling people I love them as often as I can, I know my mom has heard these words or read these words in other cards or on a random Thursday. But the pain that she never read the last note I wrote her has hurt me for a long time.

Living in Quarantine is oddly familiar for me. This time last year, our family lived very much the same. As cancer and higher morphine doses were taking over, we stayed in, stayed close, and stayed battling. We slowed down, puzzled, focused on one another, and made picnics on the floor of my mom’s room. There were also the days of high anxiety and battle, where I sat by my mom’s bedside, reading scripture, watching to make sure her chest moved up and down, and coaching her through so many simple, daily tasks.

This week, my mind, my body, and my emotions have remembered details I wanted to forget over the last year, and it’s completely shattered me in a new way. I’ve cried nonstop. I’ve been awoken in the middle of the night with dreams. My body ached all over as if I’ve had been hit by a train. Memories of my mom fading away as disease and medicines took over.

In the midst of the intensity and quiet, I felt a sense that I needed to be writing things down. I needed to be taking notes of the moments, conversations, and feelings of these sacred and scary times. Maybe one day I’ll share the details, but for now, they serve as personal reminders of some of the most excruciating yet richest moments.

This week, I revisited my notes from Sunday May 12, 2019. Mother’s Day last year. The last day my mom was downstairs in our house. As the pain increased, so did the morphine doses. My mom fought against them, wanting to be present and in control of her own thoughts. She told me that the medicines made her confused and afraid. They made her feel like she couldn’t trust people, but she knew that wasn’t true. They made her feel like she wasn’t herself.

On May 12, 2019, my notes reveal what I know to be true of Jane Boline- she’s a tender-hearted warrior for her family, trusting in Jesus the whole way.

Her communication wasn’t always clear. Her thoughts were sporadic and sometimes non-sensical. Her strength was dwindling, but she was my mama.

On May 12, 2019, she asked to sit with Mary Claire and me. She noticed my face was tear-stained, and she asked me why I was upset. I told her sometimes it can be hard to understand her, and that I know it must be harder for her. I told her I missed her. She told me things were confusing and chaotic in her head, so we hugged and cried. As we sat on the couch, she said, “I feel like we’re stuck. I feel like we’re in a vicious cycle of asking ‘are you okay?’ over and over again.” We talked through some of those emotions and our utter lack of capacity at being able to change anything. She told us she feels like she keeps disappointing and confusing us. I told her I think it’s because we want to help her and don’t know how, and she wants to help us and doesn’t know how.

She turned to us and said, “I feel like the cycle is with you two too. Ellie looks so upset, but she’s trying to make me think she’s not upset. Mary Claire says she’s okay, and I don’t know how to help her. We’re stuck. We keep doing the same things over and over again. How do we make changes?”

So we sat and told her we were here for her. She could trust us. We were going to figure it out. I watched her take a big, deep breath. She told us, “this is such a gift. I feel so much less confused and feel such a peace being with you two. This helps me make sense of everything.”

Despite her feelings or confusion, she fought for us- her girls.

We all agreed that we loved these talks, because they made us feel better. She asked us to come close. We hugged, hunched over, and cried together. She held us close and said thank you- over and over and over again. I prayed over her scary dreams and for her to have clarity of mind, and then, for the last time to my knowledge, she prayed for us.

We joined hands, leaned over, and she struggled through prayer. She told Jesus she misses us, and she loves us SO much through her own tears. My mom told Him that she’s so thankful for who her daughters are and who we are to her. She thanked Jesus for the way we show her love, and she told Him her desire to be closer to us. She asked Jesus to show up and be clear to her. She said she’s glad He still shows her new things and asked Him to show her new things He’s doing in our family. She asked Him to be close and to show her that He loves her and carries her, because she needs someone to hold her and love her close.

We said amen together, hugged, and cried. She told us how much she needed this and needed us. I think I held my breath, because she could have never known how much we needed our mom- the mom she’s always been to us- exactly in this moment.

That night as I walked her up to bed, she asked me, “do we have a lot to talk about? Do you need to talk more? You look like it. You look upset.” She could see it written all over my face, the way only she could read. I told her, “No, no. Tonight was such a gift for me, and I’ll be okay”.

She asked, “are you sure? I feel like I keep disappointing you.”

I told her, “Tonight was such a gift to me.” She asked me if I felt accepted. I told her, “yes. Absolutely.” She answered, “me too”. Then, she told me she loved me being here at night and was chipper as she got in bed.

I played music and told her I would start reading from the book of John like I did the night before. I read Chapter 7, as she fell asleep. I stopped for a few minutes and started to get up and go to bed, when she said, “oh good. Where did we stop?” I told her we finished Chapter 7 and would start Chapter 8 tomorrow. She said great and kissed me twice before we said our usual “goodnight and sweet, holy, healing dreams”.

May 12, 2019. Mother’s Day. It’s the day I remember most as my mom being mine and Mary Claire’s mom. Prayerfully paying attention. Wanting even more for us. Thankful. Focused on the details. And loving us with everything she’s got.

That night was a gift. My mom’s life is a gift to me that I miss so much. And although my heart breaks that she never read my thankfulness or desires for our family, I know that the words she shared and prayers she said echoed my gratitude for our relationship.

I can’t even describe the pain that is missing her, missing who we are together. There will never be another who knows me like she does. I wholeheartedly believe that being her daughter is my greatest honor. I will miss her for the rest of my days on earth. I miss her care, concern, prayers, and petitions on my behalf.

I know she is still talking to my Heavenly Father about me, and I am anxiously awaiting the day we reunite and talk it all through, like we always do.

Until then, every word of that card is true. I know she knows it too.

xox

ellie