October 16th

As a girl I grew up spending a lot of time at the cemetery. My aunt would take me, sometimes on important dates, and sometimes just because, to say "hi" to my mom. I remember for most of my life we would visit mom with purple flowers and stale bread in tow. The flowers were her favorite color and the bread was for the ducks who lived at the pond. Most of my memories of the cemetery revolve around my concern for the ducks and my disappointment any time they were nowhere to be found. I did quite a bit of wandering too, asking my aunt questions about the headstones nearby my mom's. I would look at the names and dates, sometimes asking her how old that person was when they died. And then there is that hill, that (seemingly) gigantic hill that I would run up and down, and up and down until I was completely exhausted. Then, we would drive home, my aunt and I, and my life didn't seem much different.

When I was just weeks away from my 4th birthday and my mom died, I didn't grieve in the same way that all those around me grieved, but I did get it. I walked through my tiny life wondering what my mommy was like and wishing I could be with her. But before I could think too much on it, I am sure the latest Cabbage Patch Kid or Disney movie distracted me.

As I have gotten older, I have gone to the cemetery less. It is harder now, even though the time of her death continually gets farther away. It is harder now I think, because I look at pictures and hold on to things that belonged to her and I have no memories of her. I have memories that I think I almost "dream" of based on stories I have been told about her. I still sometimes ask my aunt about her and find there is so much I don't know. I find I struggle with the simple fact that though I am her only daughter, I feel that of everyone who was part of her life I know her the least.

But-- I love what I know of her because of my aunt and so many others that share with me beautiful stories about her.

Because of others, I know my mom. I know that she always held her hands in a particular way that seemed very poised. I know that I look like her in some ways. I know that she loved the Lord. I know that she had great taste in music. I know that she loved to write and was creative. I know that she was a kind and graceful woman. I know that she was always polite. I know that she had a lot of love to give to a lot of people, and I know that she loved me.

Today, is my mother's birthday. It is one of those dates that has always stuck with me. It was a day that we visited the cemetery, but in some ways this date is different. Christmas and Thanksgiving, and even Mother's Day are just filled with these wonderful memories of the amazing family God has given me. But her birthday, in my mind, was just an empty day-- because she is not here to celebrate or be celebrated.

What an awful sentiment! To that, I say, no thank you! Her birthday is so perfect, I think, in the month of October- because it is Breast Cancer Awareness month. So many new developments in cancer research have been made since my mom died of breast cancer, and her birthday falls right in the month where America is encouraged to buy, buy, buy, until they are pink up to their eyeballs with all the great companies whose pink merchandise donates a portion of profit to research and awareness of the disease. Anyway- that's a whole month, which is great, and truth is I don't really get tired of it.

But what about the 16th? That empty day.

I celebrate Ismaelle.

Ben and I sponsor a little girl from Haiti through World Vision. Ismaelle's birthday is October 16th and all I can hope is that today she has a good day. She loves to play jacks-- and I really hope somebody plays jacks with this sweet girl on her birthday. Ismaelle's name runs through my mind about a hundred times a day. Her name means, "God hears". And I think that couldn't be more perfect for this full and vibrant day when Ismaelle was born 11 years ago.