I Can't Hear You Anymore

It was a morning like any other morning. I was up, dressed, and getting the water started for my morning tea. My mom had been on my mind, so I started talking to her. Unlike other times I've chatted with my mom, I was overwhelmed with emotion and broke down. "I know you can hear me, Momma, but I can't hear you anymore. I miss talking to you. Really talking to you. You feel so far away." 

I finished making my cup of tea and headed over to my morning prayer spot. I tucked my sad body into the chair and Gordie snuggled in with me. Although I felt distracted, I settled in and did my morning prayers as I sipped my cup of tea. 

When I finished my prayers and tea I got up and started getting myself ready for the day. I had about 10 minutes before I needed to get M. to school. What should I do with 10 minutes? I was going to start on some chores and then I thought of the file folder. Hmm. I could go through some of the file folder.

The last time I was cleaning at my dad's he mentioned that he had been going through some of my mom's things. He found a file folder for each of the kids with some of the cards we had sent them through the years. "No one will want old cards," my dad said. "I think I'll just recycle them." I suggested that he give the file folders to each of the kids and let them do what they wanted with them. I figured I'd get a kick out of looking over the cards and then I'd probably recycle them myself. 

I opened the file folder and looked at the first couple of cards. They made me wonder how my mom chose which cards to keep. These obviously weren't all the cards I'd given through the years. Maybe this one made her laugh. Maybe that one touched her heart. I was enjoying this journey. Then I opened the third card and I stopped short.

There was my mom's handwriting. 

She had written back to my family and me in most of the cards she saved. On a day I was feeling so very far away from my mom, missing her voice, aching to be able to hear her -- on THAT very day God gave me a little push to open the file folder. And there she was, waiting patiently. Suddenly I could hear her. She was talking to me. Really talking to me. And I could feel her right with me.

Needless to say, these cards aren't going to find themselves in the recycling bin anytime soon. I don't know what made my mom think to write us notes in cards we sent her. Maybe part of her knew that someday we would be missing her and needing to hear her speaking to us once again. 

What began as a morning like any other morning ended as a morning unlike any other morning. I was reminded how God cares for what is on our hearts - the big things and the little things. I was reminded how my mom always hears me and that she will always find a way for me to hear her, too. I was reminded that a simple note can be just what an aching soul needs. 




In my distress I called out: Lord!
    I cried out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
    my cry to him reached his ears.

Psalm 18:7