God's Pursuit of Me,  HomeLife

the steady.

This weekend Kevin and the kids worked on creating a compost pile.

And I worked nearby re-painting an old pair of homemade shutters.

My mother crafted them decades ago.

(How can I be so old that I can accurately use the word “decades” to describe my own life?)

And for some reason those two things made me miss our moms.  

Mine and Kevin’s.  

The mothers we can no longer call on the phone to share the story of simple Saturday projects outside with the family.

I still have a long list of “why’s?” for God.

And when it hits me,

when it trips me in the middle of a day,

painting blue shutters red that my mom made before a time I can barely recall,

I feel overwhelmed.

And I have to sit down.

To sit still.

It’s not the sort of question that has any kind of earthly answer.

It’s not the question of  – “God, when will you answer this prayer?”

It’s not like that.

To this prayer – there is no answer.

There is no question even really.

There’s just the truth.

The life

(and the lack of life)

that holds us still and spinning right where we are.

It holds us still.

It’s not “How can this possibly be resolved?”

It’s – this can never be resolved.

There is no resolution.

It’s just the missing.

There is no hope of redemption or recovery or forgiveness or another way.

It’s just the longing

and the not having

and the missing.

O – the missing.

That just never really gets easier.

The bright red cardinals that are now my favorite bird too.

The rustic anything hanging in my home.

This house itself.

The grand babies she doesn’t watch growing up.

The ones she never even knew were born.

Two of them.

How can that be?

How can I have given birth to a baby, to two babies, without my mom even knowing their newborn faces?

How is that possible?

It’s a grief that does not ever travel far from my consciousness.

It sits on me

and lives in me

and it is me.

(Oh friends, for the love of what is and what has been and what will never be again – go hug your mother.)

17 Comments

  • Beckey

    Lacey, your mom was the very very best. I miss her. I still drink from the coffee mug she got me to match hers, so we could share afternoon coffee together not matter how far apart we were physically. I think God taught us many lessons through her-the most important ones being love is everything, and is endless. Her love for God but also her love for you. I have no doubt that she has seen and had a hand in your children's lives-even if it is only through you.
    Love you all.

    • LaceyKeigley

      Sigh.

      I am glad to see your name here – it's been far too long since we've chatted.

      I know you miss her too. I know.

      She did radiate love – and I long to be like her in that area. Thank you for your kind words.

  • Allie Pust

    Oh goodness Lacey. This made me cry.
    Thankful my mom knows my children, and Mark's mom too.
    Begging God to allow us much time with our own children.

    • LaceyKeigley

      I pray that prayer all the time.

      Let me live to see Otto grow up. To see him happily married. To see my children thrive.

  • Cindy

    Yes, indeed…she LOVED God and served Him well. She also LOVED you tremendously precious girl!!

    • LaceyKeigley

      I know she did.

      Cindy Spencer – I miss you and I praise your name (well, I praise the name of the God you love through your name) to so many people that I know.

      I figured you should know that.

  • Julie

    Lacey, I remember your mother. And you're right. She loved God and loved her family and was a good woman in every way. I, too, grieve that my mother did not live to see my children grow up (and she never knew Mary Beth.) My boys were 2 and 5 when she went to be with the Lord. I've never gotten over losing her, but Heaven is sweeter to me. May it be sweeter to you.

    • LaceyKeigley

      It is. It is.

      And I love being reminded of people who remember my mother. One down side to moving away from one's hometown is that your history sort of sticks in the other place too and in the new place there is no one who knew you when. 🙂

  • margie

    The wages of sin are death, but the gift of God is eternal life. Our pastor just spoke about not knowing if we have tomorrow or much less today. But this scripture above will ring true for most of us. I'm sure if your mom were here she would be so proud of the woman and mother you have become. Thanks for your notes and transparency.

    • LaceyKeigley

      Oh yes – thank you. This eternal life is certainly a bright hope as I know my mother loved loved loved God.

      And, what's maybe even a bigger deal than the love of God, I know she served Him well.

  • Stacy Lee

    I understand, to a degree. Which is common between you and I it seems. Wednesday it will have been 21 years since my dad's passing. Two decades without him.