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22 years...

April 10, 2018

 MY MOM AND ME

 

Today 22 years ago when I was nine years old, my mom died of cancer. It’s surreal to think how much of a defining moment that was for me as my life path abruptly stopped and started again in a totally new direction. I still feel some of the sadness as I think back to the day which is still etched very clearly in my memory. I was playing outside at school and someone brought me in to the school counselor’s office. He then told me that my mom had died…. speechless, in shock that it actually happened. She had been battling cancer for a long time so it was kind of the inevitable outcome, but now it was really happening. I talked to her on the phone a few days before that and she was mumbling because her strength was failing, so I didn’t understand what she said. I lived for years with regret over that moment, since it was the last time I ever talked with her. I was picked up by my all of a sudden new family that I had already started to live with because my mom had already been in the hospital for some weeks. And now it was permanent, now it was final. Surreal. 

 

Now 22 years down the road I look back with near unbelief at how such a young girl navigated such rough waters… eventually ending up where I am now, a married mother of three, a missionary living in a foreign country. Most people who meet me for the first time would never think that I had been through all of this (and more). And I have only one explanation for the miraculous arrival of myself from hell 22 years ago to the present day: Jesus. Like for reals people. This isn’t a religious I have to say it answer. This is something that is tried and true and has stood the test of time. Jesus saved me from places that were reaching out to grab me. He swooped down and took hold of me, and while I wasn’t sheltered from difficulties, He carried me through the mud and sweat and blood and tears and set me on a high rock in a high place. And from day one He started the work of restoring back to me all that was lost. All the enemy tried to steal from me physically (blood family) and emotionally (sanity)… He is the restorer of my soul. And that’s not preacher pulpit plug, it’s the real thing. He’s really done it. He’s really doing it.

 

It’s still sore, when I allow myself to think back on those days. But it’s healing. And I am increasing and I will continue to thrive in abundance and victory. Not because of what I’ve done, but because of what He’s done for me. That’s reality. This is the truth I breathe.

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