The Day I Began To Miss My Mother---Post Mother's Day Reflections

Mother's Day was yesterday.  A friend asked me if I missed my mother.  Hmmm... good question. 


Mom died July 4th, 1997.  Do I miss her?  The truth is, I missed her when she was still living.  My mother was an alcoholic. 


Don't get me wrong, she was a great mom; she worked full time and stayed married to my dad; she tucked me in at night; and woke me up with this funny little nursery rhyme song, "Good Morning Mary Sunshine", that always made me laugh (till junior high, that is).  She cooked and cleaned and grew beautiful flower gardens; drew pictures of Snoopy on the brown lunch bags in which I carried my bologna sandwiches to school; she bought my horse, Duke, for my 10th birthday; she drove me to band practice and piano lessons.  She even let me learn the hard way.


Now, we always had beer in the house.  A couple at dinner was the norm for mom & dad when we kids were younger.  A few more on Fish Fry nights or when friends or family came to play Euchre.  Occasionally, when they got a little schnokered, they'd argue.  Oh, heck, even when they weren't schnokered,  I can remember some real roof raisers!


But as we kids grew up and mom & dad grew older, something changed--or so it seemed to me.  By the time my brothers & sisters were grown and gone, and I was in my early teens, my parents drank more and more often.  I came to hate dinner times when it was just me, mom & dad.  They'd take verbal pot shots at each other like drunken cowboys with 6-shooters picking tin cans off a fence.  If Dad ate out of the green bean bowl with his fork, mom would roll her eyes & swear at him under her breath, and he'd fire back that he never was good enough for her; and so on.  Then it escalated to name calling and fists pounding on the table--only on the table, fortunately.  My knotted stomach was the cue for me to get the heck out of Dodge.  Thank God for big Duke, my horse!  He was my savior more times than I can count in those days.  We'd ride until the sun set, then I'd stay in the barn currying him, singing and talking to him, till my parents ran out of ammunition.  (After I got my driver's license, I avoided being home routinely, sometimes staying out till I was sure mom & dad were in bed.  And I was tipping a few myself by then.  But that's another story with another Savior.)

Being the youngest of the five kids, I think I was more aware that alcohol was overtaking our parents, especially mom, and it affected me deeply.  The beer soon gave way to harder stuff.  Cemented in my mind is the vivid image of her swigging whiskey right out of the bottle.  I was 16.  With a hand on each hallway wall to steady herself, she staggered to my room, leaned against the door frame, swinging slightly like a saloon door, slurring I'm alrights and I love yous...  That was the day I began to miss my mother.

Please do not misunderstand me.  This is not intended to dishonor her in any way or vent my anger.  Jesus helped me deal with that years ago and, in fact, it was His forgiveness of my sins that taught me to forgive mom and to repent of how I had dishonored my parents during those teen years, and spurred me on to love and honor them the way the Bible commanded me to.  God redeemed our relationship and I'm profoundly thankful for that.  Perhaps you find yourself where I once was and need to forgive a parent or someone else who has wronged you.  Jesus can help you do that.  Trust Him.


Mom wasn't perfect.  Neither am I.  I am certain she loved me and I loved her, even more as the gospel renewed my mind and heart toward her.  So, yes, friend, I miss her. I missed her then. But I miss her now.