miracles and a moon

 oh dear.  this week is going to be rough.  years ago, i read the book "the middle place" by kelly corrigan and knew that i was just steps from that story.  it sounded awful and hard and the place that nobody wanted to be in but eventually the place we would all find ourselves in.

we are in that place today.  my momma is no longer able to live in her apartment at my sister's house and it has become painfully obvious that it is time to transition her to a nursing home. and so this week, i fly across the country, help pack her bags, and move her into her next home.  

while my heart cries out, "no thank you, i don't wanna, this is way too adult for me, the baby of the family can't handle this...", i know that it is what is required.  sigh.  

it isn't like i haven't seen this coming.  it has been a journey and the writing has been all over the wall.  my momma's mobility has been declining, daytime aides are unreliable- often leaving her unattended without help out of bed or preparing meals on short or no notice...  a whole lotta yuck.

but God has always been in the business of caring for my momma and her very unique needs.  and while he has always been in the business of caring for her, he has also always been in the business of protecting my heart, guiding me, showing me His goodness as we navigate the path.

it started long before i was able to tell a story and continues right on up to today.

in october, my sisters and i began to clearly see that this was just around the bend. as we started to figure out the details of the how and the when, God began preparing my heart.  there was a weekend in mid-november when the girls and i went to half moon bay for the day.  the girls went off on their own down to the beach, and i stayed behind with the dog.  as they frolicked in the sand below, i watched the sun set on the pacific ocean.  it was magnificent.  quite possibly one of the most beautiful sunsets i have seen in years.  and as i watched it, with my heart heavy over my momma's next steps, God spoke to my soul.

"Tasha- i have set this sun on your mother for 82 years.  when she became a foster child in her youth, i was there and i provided adoptive parents for her.  when she went to turkey to teach on the military base, i protected her and led her to your father.  i was with her when she was pregnant with you and she had her aneurysm.  i walked her through rehab.  i walked her through divorce. i was there when you and she moved to virginia and on and on and on.  14 years ago, when she was hit by a car and should have died (again), i was there.  i was in the rehab after that, too.  i was with her as she transitioned to your sister's home and every single day in between.  and all of it has been filled with blessings.  rest in that.  her life, albeit filled with challenges, has also been filled with beauty."

it was a sweet 15 minutes where my emptiness became fullness.  where i knew that so much good had come from so many challenges. it was in that moment where i declared joy and praise over her life and walked forward, tall, in the hard steps i knew i was about to have to take on her behalf, for her.

the girls and i grabbed dinner, and headed home from a lovely day at the beach. as we got into the car, i told the girls that they had to pick something other than t-swift.  i needed some variety in my listening pleasure and taylor was not going to cut it for me on this ride.  they all laughed and said, "mom, just listen to your music.  we'll put in our pods."

and so happily listen to my jams, i did.  i had recently made a playlist of songs that were new-ish to me and i was excited to listen as i drove.  i hit shuffle and settled in for the hour-ish ride home.

one of the early songs that played is one i have been loving...  but it broke right through my heart at that moment...  

"i hope i never get over what you have done"

"it's not coincidence and it's not fate"

"miracles on miracles.  a million little miracles. miracles on miracles. count your miracles."

and my life of miracles just kept flashing though my mind.  so many ways that God has shown up.  over and over and over again. loving me.  loving her.  drawing me into his goodness.  i shouldn't be here.  she should have died before i took my first breath.  and here i am 46  years later... alive, breathing, raised by her, living such a blessed life.  my heart seized with the goodness that i have experienced and celebrated the joy that is true.  i shouldn't be in this place.  even though this is going to be so exceptionally hard, blessed am i to have her.  blessed am i to be able to help her navigate these next steps.  blessed are my sisters for my momma's wisdom in our lives.  blessed are her grands for the influence she has had on their lives.  and blessed are we all because while she may be down, she's not out.  the story isn't over.  even though her earthly home is changing, we still have her. she has more to give and God has more miracles to reveal in our lives through her.

and as all of that settled into my mind, a euphoric joy eclipsed me.  my mood changed and my heart leapt.  it happened as i was crossing over the east bay and approaching the valley where i live... and as i crested the hill into castro valley (a neighboring town), God rose the most glorious moon.  it was full, and red and textured and illuminated in a way just as magnificent as the sunset i had watched just hours before.  here is was- the same God who set the sun on my momma with his magnificent love over and over and over again for years we didn't think we had, was the same God that shone through the moon.  

as i sat in those thoughts, watching the moon, a new song (one that delaney had said she liked) began to play...  it was new to me and because my girl liked it, it was intrigued...

and again, it spoke to my soul in waves... here i was filled with grief and yet, experiencing an inexplicable joy.  God works like that.  when you trust in the knowledge that only he has, and live in a posture of surrender, the hardest things can become the most important things.  the ones we don't understand, can suddenly bring us peace.  because trusting in Him, means, i don't have to understand it all.  i can find joy in the joyless and peace in the challenge, and surrender in what i wish i could control.

i can't control any of this, and so i will just move to the left or the right and walk in His ways, finding the joy with each setting sun and each rising moon. and it won't be forced, because when God eclipses your heart and gives you conviction, you don't have to force it.

i came home and called my sister to share my peace, my joy and the details of my story.  we didn't know how the next few weeks would unfold.  we had no idea about timing and bed availability and approvals...  she celebrated the story and we hung up.

the next morning i awoke to the following image in a text... 

the exact scripture that the "deep cries out" song was taken from, was her bible reading for that day.  coincidence?  nope.  confirmation.  yes.

the week has come.  i fly east to do the hard thing.  the bed is available and her next steps will take her to a nursing home.  whenever my mind drifts to the awful images of elder care in 2021, i am reminded that the sun will set and the moon will rise daily over my momma by the same God that has been there for her all along. will this be hard for her?  of course.  will there be joy and reasons to celebrate and goodness...  i stand confident that those things will be true too.

we are going to walk through this hard week.  and as she does the hard thing. as i do this hard thing, i am certain that God will use it for good.  if you see me soon and i am a mess, i am clinging to this: