Not Too Late For (*Totally Free) Best Mother’s Day Gift: That Will Be Deeply Healing for Both of you

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You know what? What every Mom wants most is to be seen. Every Mom wants to know that, in spite of all of her faults and failings — that she somehow is still leaving, in spite of wounds and pain, a LEGACY OF LOVE. Every Mom wants to somehow, though so much went awry, to still hear, in spite of it all, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” still know that there was somehow good, that somehow, she still made a difference. And this free collection of bookmarks and notecards in our library of resources for you to personalize — and additional, personal journaling prompts—which you can print and package as a beautiful, heartfelt gift—can offer your Mom what she wants most: to feel truly seen, deeply loved, and reminded that she’s leaving a LEGACY OF LOVE. But it also unexpectedly gives you the priceless gift of deep healing, as you process these prompts, as you go back through memories, looking for whatever is “true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Phil. 4:8). You’ll also find optional prompts for your own tender places—lost parents, unmet longings, strained relationships—so that you, too, are seen and held. …. Print out from our free library and personalize and give to your Mom to give her what she longs for most — or send to your family to consider writing through and giving back to you the gift you want most!

And so I sat down with this loveliest collection of prompts to give Mom the assurance of her LEGACY OF LOVE… and began to write to my own Mom…

Dear Mama,

You taught me a pinch of this, and a dash of that, and how tomato sauce usually needs a splash of sugar, and you’ve got to know, Mama, how in spite of everything, you’re leaving this legacy of love and good, and you’ve taught me how we are all going to get all kinds of things wrong and what matters is what you do with that afterward, and that expectations kill relationships, and you love as well as you’re willing to be inconvenienced.

In spite of all that went wrong, Mom, you’re still living a Legacy of Love & good & you taught me: Shame dies when stories are told in safe places.

You’ve got to know, Mom, in spite of all that went wrong, you’re leaving a legacy of love and good, and because of you, Mom, I know that:

The most important thing you can ever wear is a smile, and that there isn’t a thrift store on the planet that doesn’t hold at least one “eureka” find and even now, I sometimes laugh when I look in the mirror and see some spot that didn’t come out in the wash, because I can hear you telling me I won’t really even notice it much, if I just keep moving, and yes, you’ve taught me that: Just keep moving.

And that: People’s judgements of you are often their own mirrors of self.

And you taught me how to tie your hair up when you’re about to really get down to work, and how to never leave a conversation before asking how you can pray, and if you cast stones, you end up breaking your own heart, and you taught me how to gently rub a scared little girl’s feet every night until she finally falls asleep and I can still remember you singing softly to me, Mama.

Because of you, I learned: The way you feel is not who you are – it’s only one part of you, a sign pointing something out, within the whole story of you.

Your feelings aren’t meant to drive you, but your feelings are lights on your dashboard about how the drive is going, and what needs your attention so you can keep on going in the best direction.

Your thoughts never stay in your head, but become the reality you move into.

Because of you, Mom, I learned that: Your thoughts never stay in your head, but become the reality you move into.

You can turn the trajectory of what you track.

What you keep consuming — is what you keep becoming.

Shame dies when stories are told in safe places.

And because of you, I won’t forget:

It’s everything to realize you can’t control anyone else’s lines in your story — and it changes all the things when you stop assuming you know why someone’s writing the story the way they are. The way you read someone’s actions might have nothing to do with their motivations or intentions.

Parts of your story are given to you, but what you always get to decide is how much goodness and love you write into the lines of the story that are your part.

There’s no obstacle that can’t be reframed into a door of opportunity.

There’s no obstacle that can’t be reframed into a door of opportunity.

And you taught me courage when you didn’t back out on your own fledgling dreams and went back to school, and you taught me courage when you did the work late at night for years, and you taught me courage when you turned 180 degrees from closed doors and ended up walking across that stage in cap and gown to get your own degree. And you taught me courage when you surrendered and got help, and got help again, when you stood up and spoke truth straight into all the lies that threatened to lay us all flat, when you kept breathing through the grief that just kept on coming.

As long as God keeps giving you permission to breathe, you always have permission to grieve.

You shaped my faith by your earnest, honest prayers that always began with “Loving, Heavenly Father…”…. And you showed me that faith often looks like stacks of wrestling prayer journals and crack of dawn Saturday morning Bible studies in your front living room with a pot of team and jam and scones and heaps of vulnerability. And you showed me grace when you forgave me for thinking I knew it all at 14, gave me grace for being too in my head instead of being present to you, extended me grace for being much too certain instead of being much more curious.

Because of what you taught me with your all your ordinary day, that’ve been stacking up into the story of your life, I’m learning that:

You can choose to not break anyone else with what just about broke you. Their poor behaviour can make you rich in grace, and lavish in you love. And you have agency over your actions, but not anyone else’s reaction.

I’ve learned from your life: Only speak words that make souls stronger.

No matter what edition of our relationship we are in now – it doesn’t get to edit out any of the other editions.

And: Never hold anyone more accountable than you hold yourself, and if you’ve tasted amazing grace how can you not go to amazing lengths to pass it on to someone else?

And you taught me that time is kind of relative, and not to ever take the hands on any face of a clock more seriously than the holy face in front of you, and that’s turned out to be a gift, this assurance that there’s no such thing as ever being too late, that you aren’t ever too late to begin again, that we aren’t ever running out of time when we walk with the One who lives beyond time, but instead are only gaining an eternity of Love.

I’m still learning, Mama, that for all of us: No matter what edition of our relationship we are in now – it doesn’t edit out any of the other editions. We hold space for loss and love, for grief and good, and we all get to keep finding ways to hold on to each other.

Alway know: There were all kinds of versions and editions of you who helped me become far better versions and editions of me. And I promise to never, ever forget all the ways your good made me better.

And because we all never stop trying to see if there’s anyone who chooses to really see us — what I just really wanted you to give you, Mom, was the gift of really seeing you…

I see you, Mom.

I see you, Mom — and I see grace meeting you, and love enfolding you, and Christ carrying you.

I see you at the stove, getting another meal on the table for us when you were starved just for some rest and solitude and a good hot soak in the bath. I see you folding yet another load of laundry and hauling in another load of groceries all by yourself and carrying all this mental load and I see you trying to hold a house and home and a family together, and just wanting someone to come hold you. I see you being the mom taking care of us – when there were days you ached for someone to just come and take care of you.

I see you on the edge of your bed, tired but trying, and I see you pushed right to the edge time and again, and I see how you’ve kept finding a way, I see you putting one step in front of the other when it felt all too much and achingly alone, and I see now how brutally hard the road has been at times, and how painstakingly brave you’ve had to be, just to be…. just to be you.

I see how you’ve shouldered the heft of your cross and how sometimes it’s rubbed painfully raw and how you’ve trusted Jesus to be your Wounded Friend who has carried the weight of your cross every step too. I see you — and I see grace meeting you, and love enfolding you, and Christ carrying you.

And I can always see the times you’d throw your head back and laugh loud and how it made me feel inside, to see you happy on the outside, and I will always see how your eyes could read like love, and I promise you that I have that tenderness, and you, memorized for forever.

Your story can hold all kinds of moments and you can still leave a legacy of love, because, of all the moments, love is the most durable and strongest of them all.

Mama?

Your story can hold all kinds of moments, and you can still leave a legacy of love, because, of all the moments, love is the most durable and strongest of them all.

Because the realest reality is:

Love happens in all kinds of small pockets of moments in a life, and those moments of love always go on forever, and distance can’t diminish love and time can’t erode love and brokenness can’t stop love and disagreements can’t delete love and illness can’t wither love, and sins can’t supersede love, and hard seasons can’t undo love and failures can’t overwrite love, and death can’t terminate love and you never have to fear: your love, in all kinds of moments, goes straight on through all kinds of valleys, and into always and forever, and will always be with me.

I love you, Mom…

Love,

Me xoxo