I’ll never forget that moment.

We were walking away, but I knew I couldn’t walk away without just one more glimpse.  I didn’t want that last look to be forever etched in my memory, but I couldn’t just keep walking.

Behind me, nestled in the hills of West Virginia, was a fresh mound of dirt.  And there, amidst the beauty that John Denver famously referred to as “Almost Heaven”, lay my mother.

It felt terrible to just walk away, and so I prayed for strength and looked back one last time.

And there, in the middle of a trauma with more pain than felt bearable, I saw my aunt lovingly arranging flowers on the newly-formed mound of dirt.  It was so beautiful…a rainbow of colors cascading over the dirt in honor of one of the most beautiful women to walk this earth.

It was God’s gift to me in the middle of my pain.  It was a reminder from Him that He makes beauty out of ashes and in that moment, I made the mental note to never forget it.

Almost twelve years have passed since that day and many of the constants I’d always known are no longer constant.  Death affected my family in a bad way.  It also left me wondering what to do with this huge void my mother left in the world.  She sewed everyday and it pained me to imagine a world without projects rolling off her sewing machine.

And so I assigned myself the task of keeping her memory alive through the art of sewing.

I was timid at first.  Everything my mother created was perfect.  I trembled at the thought of not being able to live up to her high standard. Especially, since I was sewing things on the machine I inherited from her. But as time passed, so did my timidity.  I began to try sewing new things.  Harder things.  I even got brave enough to sell my things at craft shows where I learned that people loved my makes!

Soon I found myself loving the very thing that had instilled so much fear in me before.  I no longer saw myself as a wannabe; I saw myself as a bonafide seamstress.  Timidity and fear of imperfection were replaced with passion and pride.

It still blows my mind that God was able to use this deep pain and loss as a jumping board for the flourishing of a creativity that I didn’t even know I had inside of me!

I don’t know why God chose to take my mother so soon.  It seems unfair that a good mom was taken so early after three painful years of suffering.  It seems unfair when girl friends complain about their moms while I would do anything to have my mom back.  It’s not true what they say about the pain being less severe over time.  I’ve cried in fitting rooms while listening to moms and daughters shop together, and very recently, I sat and cried over a sweet little text a friend sent me about her mom.  I miss my mom so much!

But in all His wisdom, God took my mom to be with Him.  And in all His wisdom, He allowed our family to fall off the perfect little Christian pedestal where we once sat for everyone to see.  Sometimes my youngest brother and I retrace fond family memories together amidst the shards of that pedestal, but it’s mostly painful for me to remember the life I know we can never have again.  And so I shift my focus back to the beauty and happiness that currently surround me while praising our Father Who has used my deep grief as launching pad into a hobby that has brought abundant joy and healing into my life.

I’ve grown so much in the past two years as I’ve more fully grasped the new reality that is my life.  I’ve learned that my mother is gone and that it’s not my responsibility to hold our family together.  I’ve learned that I inherited her love and skill of sewing and that she would be proud to see the things I’ve sewn.  Most importantly, I’ve learned that I am strong.  I never saw myself as a strong person before, but fully grasping Christ’s love for me has released a freedom in my soul like I’ve never known and has also given me the courage to set boundaries of protection in all areas of my life.

I wish this wasn’t my story.  I wish I wasn’t the one with the dead mom and the family that fell apart.  I wish I wasn’t the girl that spent 39 years not realizing the strength she possessed in Christ.

But this is my story, and I share it because it’s also a story full of hope and comfort.  Our current situations don’t dictate our future, and my story is living proof of that.  For every moment, there is a season.  And in every season, God holds us in His faithful hand.

Ann Voskamp has this quote, one I’ve never forgotten.  She says this,” Giving thanks is that: making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God when Satan and all the world would sneer at us to recant.”

Creating beautiful things is my way to give thanks to the One Who created me. It’s a way to show the world that I am trusting that God holds my future in His hands and that He is making something more beautiful than I can fathom.

He’s putting flowers on my dirt and I’m sitting here with my palms open.