why i need 'the club' and not a small group

Another one of the "days" is upon me. Mom would have been 69 today, she died just two months shy of her 68th birthday.  I have mixed feelings about these days, the milestones, the anniversary, holidays, the days you cannot go un-reminded of her absence. Of course I'm already thinking of her every hour of every day, but you get the idea.  These are the days that my dad and siblings will actually go through with their best intentions of calling and dial me up to see how I'm doing, and I'll do the same for them. They're the days that my sons and DH will recognize, "Mommy's sad" and struggle clumsily with how to handle me in such mood.  But, as mentioned, they are the days that bring on those waves of grief. Sweet, comforting sadness swells upon me and her absence is absurdly more obvious.  The ache of all things I miss about who she was and how she did or did not mother me are at the forefront of every thought, behind every response to every conversation.


I try so hard not to have expectations of those I love and who love me on these days because I know, more than likely, they will fail to meet these expectations. Because, truly, how can they know? They've never lost like this. They are still complaining about their own moms, about spending time with them during the upcoming holiday or some drama at their last gathering.  No, expectations are not helpful now; even if I spell out what I need, something might come up unexpectedly and I'll be left alone, realizing how stupid it was to have expressed any need to recognize this occasion at all.

In the past, when relationships failed me, I easily ran into the arms of my God.  He is there, waiting for me to come to Him even now, to crawl up into his lap and cry until the wells of my tears are dry...but I stand off, hesitant to trust Him with my heart. Deep down, years of relationship with this Comforter have trained me that it is right to go to Him, that it is right to seek his Word and to gather with other believing women to discuss how to live a Christian, God-honoring life on this war-torn, wounded Earth. And even though I know that the church is concerned for me, their calls asking if I'm "plugged in" make me feel like my spiritual maturity is being judged by my membership to a bible study or a church-based small group.  I am hurting. Right now, showing up at women's study won't remove this hurt. Being a part of church small group won't remove this hurt.  I want to be with others who understand the pain; those waves of grief and that are willing to wade with me and get washed up onto shore with me, battered and bruised by the crashing sea.  So, me and an acquaintance who lost her mom in July started a group. There are 6-7 of us, all motherless daughters, members of "the club" that nobody wanted to be inducted into.  No, there aren't any other women from my church in it, thank you for asking.  No, not all of us are Christians, either.  But, I can tell you what I don't need right now. I don't need a church group to tell me that I can rejoice because she is with Jesus. I don't need a well-meaning elder to ask when the last time I read my bible was.  I don't need a sweet, elderly woman at the potluck telling me I was lucky to have those three last months to run down to Chicago every week to visit her, watching her die. I need someone to sit with me and let me cry 'til my tear wells run dry. And the only people who want to do that with me are women like me, who meet at my house twice a month on Thursdays at 9AM and just get it. They understand my pain because they are hurting like me.

And God. I know he gets it, too.  And I know he's waiting for me.  Maybe his invitation is the best one I have right now..    

I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. 

He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock,

making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth,

a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord.

Psalm 40:1-3