My mom was a character.

She grew up on a farm in Ohio. One of five. They never starved during the depression. But everything else was scarce. One of 5, the first time she used an actual toilet was at 16, after her dad dropped over dead one day and they had to move into town. The first time she heard a radio, she was 19, visiting her boyfriend at Great Lakes. The radio in the room she rented was on. She ran screaming from the room, thinking there was a real man in there.

Her first employer got her pregnant and she was on a train headed toward her dead dad’s family (that she had never met) when she met her first husband. Larry was shell shocked, coming home from the war. He drank. It was an abusive relationship, fraught with making money and losing it all to drink, while mom cared for her first four kids.

She got free from that relationship only to meet my biological dad. She was impressed by his ability to seduce, and by his intellect. She married again. They had a girl, but by the time my mom was pregnant with me, she realized that her husband was dangerous. her five, plus the five he had brought into the relationship, were regularly beaten, punished and tested. She went to see a lawyer about options. And shortly after, he left, taking their baby and his five, in the middle of the night. I had been in her womb 7 months.

My mom was not regulated emotionally. Her own mom had boasted, in hospice, she had never apologized to anyone in her life. Neither did she forgive. My mom lacked the circuitry to process pain. There were also early issues with bonding, and my mom suffered from narcissistic personality disorder. She needed the room to revolve around her. She was not intellectually smart, but socially she was a savvy shark. It was tough growing up, learning what was required for bonding.

When I was 6 weeks old, she met her third and final husband. They married. He adopted me when I was six. The marriage lasted until her death at 90.

Throughout the years my oldest sister and myself met the Lord. We had both ‘led’ our mom to the Lord. She said the prayer she was supposed to say. We never saw any change, but we hoped. And when she finished her time, we were not entirely sure, but we hoped.

One day after her passing, I dared to ask the Lord if I would see her again. There was a lot of stuff she hadn’t been sorry for. I am remembering, this mother’s day, what he showed me back then.

I saw the Lord unroll time from around her. With each circling she became younger. I saw my mom as a little girl. She was dressed in a skirt and was twirling. She felt pretty. The Lord entered her space and said- did you know that I was the one who made you pretty? (She giggled.) And when I made you pretty I was looking forward to us sharing together the joy of your prettiness.

Then he looked at me and spoke.

“depending on how she responds to that truth, that is the metric I will use when judging her heart.”

If all we have are lies, and the way we develop is by building on them, he will have mercy.

It is how our hearts respond when our hearts have the truth that he measures.

That is what determines our eternity.

I have hope now, that I will see my mom in heaven when I get there. And what a beautiful day that will be.

Selah.