WE BARELY SURVIVED.
My entire childhood filters through the reality of this truth. I dreaded and despised my relationship with my father, and his abuse and control left me with mere shreds of a relationship with my mother. She was burdened by the weight of responsibility to insure that our basic needs were provided. She diligently worked day in and day out at a dingy little small-town factory. Her meager hourly wage was our only source of steady income. He never held a job, and the wages he did earn rushed through the sieve of booze, women, and other selfish desires. His anger and violence dominated our home. There was no time, energy, or emotions left for a brown-eyed little girl.
My mother, sweet and kind, was robbed of truly being a mom. Eighteen precious years were stolen and tainted with wounds and sorrow, struggle and heartache. My mother was belittled and weakened, yet she still possessed quiet strength. We both got out alive. SOMEHOW. Although parts of us died, we lived. We made it through.
GOD IS A GOD OF SECOND CHANCES.
BECAUSE HE IS GRACE, MY MOM IS A MOM OF SECOND CHANCES, TOO.
Although time lost can never be regained, it can be redeemed. The funny thing about second chances, is that some people ignore them. It's up to you what to do when your second chance comes along. But those who do take their second chance, embrace the MERCY-GIFT with wholehearted gratefulness. Perhaps they appreciate even more in the shadow of what was lost. Perhaps they love a little deeper, hug a little longer, and smile a little brighter because they never thought moments like these would ever return to them.
REDEMPTION IS BEAUTIFUL.
My mom only mothered me, but she is re-living her second chance four times over with my children. I love to watch her cuddle up to read stories, plop on the floor to build Legos, or sit at the table for hours to play games, work puzzles, or roll out Play-doh. She goes on long walks with my teenage daughter, and every evening takes special interest in her day.
Watching my mom's love for my children unfold before me is like viewing how my mom would have chosen to love and nurture me. It is healing balm for my little-girl-soul, and I know it is salve to her mother-soul as well. GRACE. It is grace alive... living and breathing in our midst. Grace rebuilds. Grace restores. Grace covers. Grace heals.
GRACE IS THE STUFF OF SECOND CHANCES.
GRACE IS THE STUFF MY SECOND CHANCE MOM IS MADE OF.
This piece is in honor of my mom. Today is her birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, TOO!
I LOVE YOU!
p.s. The picture on this post is my "Second Chance Mom" with my two oldest daughters. :)
