There is nothing on earth like a mother’s love

Thirty-six years ago today, my mom was removed from life support after suffering a brain aneurism. She fell ill three days prior while getting ready for work. My dad found her on the bathroom floor, the water running in the sink. She was still conscious then, able to answer questions asked by the EMTs. Dad noticed her pull her nightgown over her legs as they wheeled her away. She had always been a modest woman. Classy. Appropriate. Her only vice was the way she popped her Doublemint gum, loud and full of clickety clack.

I think about Mom all the time, especially in the context of what is missing from my life because she is not here. I cannot call her to chat, nor offer my appreciation for her many sacrices on my behalf. She does not know the eight-going-on-nine great-grandchildren our family now boasts. This photo is the last one taken the summer before her death. She is holding Andrea, who chose Eloise as her own daughter’s middle name. My mom was Eloise.

Like every mother, Eloise was heaven sent. This came into clear focus last week after a conversation with some female friends. We were discussing why the Trinity of the Bible does not include a female personality. Father. Son. Holy Spirit. All Hims. I can accept this apparent gender bias because I believe God reveals himself so incredibly through women, especially mothers. Who else but Jesus has to bleed to give us life? Moms bleed to conceive us, give birth to us, and to heal from us. Case closed. God holds women in high esteem.

I will be 60 years old next month and will have outlived my mom by eight years. In celebration, I am embarking on a 30-day joy ride and will try to keep it classy and appropriate! That’s why I must start this journey by acknowledging the one who – other than God himself – loved me first.