I went into town yesterday to meet a friend from church. She and her family have recently purchased a converted school bus and they are making a drastic change in their lives. They’re going on the road as a family of five, living a Godly life, homeschooling their children along the way, and exploring the country. They’ve made a one year commitment and they’re so excited! I met with them to add my insight since I did that with a camper for two years….however, alone and without children.

As I was driving, I looked down at my arms and was taken aback. I was looking at my mother’s arms…clear as day. Same skin tone. Same age spots. Same skinny little bird wrists. It made my heart ache a little. Those of us who have lost our moms know it’s something we carry for the rest of our lives. We do that with any loss. There’s a separate room for orphans.

I was talking to my mom’s sister on the phone the other day about how the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree. She laughed and said, “Oh, Ginny…you are your mother’s daughter. You are so much like her.” I thought to myself…I hope she doesn’t mean the bad things like her stubborn streak. Then I laughed. Of COURSE that’s what she meant! I really AM my mother’s daughter!

My mom’s cousin stopped by the camper in the mall last week. We sat and visited for a while. She saw the video of me pulling the camper into the mall and remarked with something like “Amazing…I never know what you’re going to do next!” I cannot imagine my mom doing what I do…like pulling a camper all over creation by myself. I think that would have scared her to death.

I do think mom would have loved going along with me in a camper, though. Sometimes, when I’m really missing her, I fantasize taking a road trip with her and my brother. I think of all the places she would have loved to go. It makes me sad when I think how clueless I was when she was still living. Yes, I went to see her every year. Yes, I called her religiously every week. But I didn’t help her like I could have…should have. I didn’t offer to take her places or fix up her house. I was too busy living my own life and too blind to see what more I could have been doing for her and my brother. 

I see more of my dad looking back at me from the mirror instead of my mom and her people. That took a long, long time to “get over” because of the difficult relationship he and I had. I did the best I could do with him and I don’t feel any guilt that I should have done more with/for him. We do tend to gravitate toward the light of love so I orbited my mom.

Last night my arms virtually reached across the country and wrapped themselves around my younger daughter because she had a hard day. I wonder…when they see me as I age, do they see their Grammy? Do they see their Grammy’s arms when they look at mine? Do they note my graying hair and my not quite as peppy gait? Will they have that moment when they recognize I’m aging a little bit faster these days…like I did with my own mom? I think they do…more so because they only see me once a year. Like me with my mom.

Will they one day see me in themselves? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway…I am my mother’s daughter. More and more every year. And…that’s not a bad thing.

❤️

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you…””

Isaiah 66:13 NIV