How I Met Your Mother
She was uncharacteristically upset. She would march into the living room of her newly rented house and then back into her bedroom.
"It's not fair!"
The television was non-existent at that point and all that occupied the place along the wall was a lone stand that longed for its purpose to be complete, to hold up something that would get all the attention, while receiving none for itself.
I just watched as she stormed in and out of the living room. She would look at me and then rush back into her bedroom and let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe the right words lingered in her bedroom, or maybe she left the wrong ones there. I don't know.
"Are you okay?" I asked as she made her rounds once again.
"No," she quickly responded as she retreated back to the bedroom.
"Alright, I'll wait."
And I did.
You see, my girlfriend lost her mother before we met. It was cancer and it left her family more broken than they probably realized at the time. I was never able to meet, because Christina and I wouldn't meet till about 5 months later.
It's always been something that's bothered her. She would tell me things would be so much easier if her mom was still alive. I can't even count the times Christina has said something like "she would've loved you" or "my mom would've made things so much easier for us".
To be completely frank, I can't remember exactly how the yelling, stomping around, and frustration started, but it was rooted in my not getting to meet her mom.
In the midst of waiting for the next tirade in the living room I prayed.
Hey God,
It's me again. But you already know what I'm going to ask you for, huh? Well, I'm here. I lack the proper words to speak and give peace to Christina. I don't even know if that's what you want from me. Just help me here, would ya?
She's right to be frustrated and upset at the fact that I never got to meet the person that has meant the most to her in her life. The catalyst for the greatest growing experience you've put her through and I never met her.
I don't know what to say here God. In fact, I never know what to say. But you've both silenced me and given me the words to speak in the past.
I just ask for clarity now. What do I do? What do I say? How should I say it?
I'll follow your lead.
Amen.
When she returned into the living room she seemed more tired than her previous laps. She slumped down onto the couch next to me and rested her head on my shoulder.
"I just want you to have met her and know who she was."
"I know."
"It hurts sometimes that you guys never got to meet."
"I know."
"It's not fair."
"I know."
She sighed a deep breath and slowly looked up at me. Her eyes were on the verge of tears and that's when words started pouring out of me.
"But I have met her," I said. Immediately I wondered where that statement was coming from. Jesus was speaking. It was time for Andrew to get out of the way.
She looked at me confused and maybe a little annoyed that I might be making a joke out of the whole ordeal.
"I've met her," I assured her.
"I look at you and see a woman of God who's been formed through tragedy and pain, a living testament of the grace of God. I see a woman who cares deeply for those that are around her, who seeks to know people for more than superficial characteristics and shallow friendships."
She begins to get up, her head is no longer on my shoulder but looking straight at me.
"I see a woman who stands firm in her convictions, but listens to those that might view things differently. I've come to know a woman who isn't afraid to share how she's feeling at any given moment and expresses her hurts, pains, triumphs, and victories. I've met this woman who cooks, cleans, drives, and does a million other things she doesn't have to for the people that she loves. Does that woman sound familiar to you?"
I take a deep breath because my thoughts are coming to a close.
"I never got to meet your mom or taste her cooking or receive a hug, BUT I have gotten to know one of the people that she cared the most about, one of the people she poured the most into and that tells me more than just meeting her once. Christina, you're a reflection of the woman your mother was, whether or not I got to physically meet her doesn't really matter to me, because she made you, she molded you, she loved you. You're her in so many ways. Your mom she loved Jesus first and foremost, and so yeah, I didn't get to hear your mom's voice or get driven around by her, but the things she did were all rooted in a faith in Jesus Christ. The same faith she had, she passed down to you. I've met your mom, and she did a fantastic job."
My attempts to halt her crying failed. Her face is buried in my shirt and I can feel it dampening. So I hold her till she stops and she can smile.
"Are you okay now?"
"Yeah, but you made me cry."
"Girls tend to do that when I'm around."
You say I never write you anything so I wrote you this. Happy 25th Birthday, Christina!