Return

 Yesterday was my moms funeral. Because Rob and I are both crippled at the moment, my sister set to planning it. It was beautiful. There was a trumpeter and amazing food and music. People from every stage of moms life filed in and gave hugs and cried along with us. My friends and their parents held onto me and reminded me that I have a team of mothers to help me through this life.


I wailed alongside Ziggy through the service. But at the end. The priests stood over moms ashes. And they gave her back. That was what they said. We give her back to you Lord. 


It struck me. 


I know that my children are not my own. I raise them and love them but I believe they belong to God. It’s my job to love them like Christ would and let them go. 


And that's what I had to do with mom. She was here to ferry me on my way. And then she had to go back. She belongs to God. 


I knew it in my heart, but seeing the priest pray over her. Seeing my son weep for her. And being surrounded by all the people whose lives she had touched made me actually awaken to that reality. 


And it gave me some peace.

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