One Month

“I am acutely aware that one of the keys to living as a believer is the practice of gratitude.”

This is the opening sentence mom wrote in the letter she left to us, her family, to be read upon her home going. It’s been one month now since she took her last breath. One month of sorrow. One month of tears. One month of thinking I should call mom to tell her………only to remember she’s no longer here. One month of wading through these new waters of grief.

But it’s also been one month of intense gratitude. One month of receiving care in the most thoughtful ways. One month of love. One month of remembering. One month of phone calls with dad. One month of being surrounded by profound beauty. One month of friendship showing up. One month of stunning skies. One month of noticing the kindnesses of Jesus. One month of dreaming and hoping and longing.

This morning I listened to Gabriel’s Oboe and allowed the tears to flow. Tears of sadness, but also tears of gratitude. So much of mom remains so very near. I could hear echos of her voice as I listened to the music, knowing what commentary she would offer. I will never stop thinking of her when I read a particularly beautiful story. My beloved college friends gave me a tree to plant in celebration of her life, and I will witness it’s changes and growth through every season from the desk where I write…knowing how much mom delighted in doing the same in her garden.

I also ordered my own copy of Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Mom quoted from it in her letter to us.

“Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Mom taught me to look up…to see…all the ways that heaven shows up around us. In people. In nature. In music. In words. In art. In Jesus. In how I was made.

So today I will take off my shoes and notice. I will practice gratitude. I will cry. I will miss mom. And I will find ways to celebrate.