Author Archives: ardisanelson

A Match Made in Heaven

21 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, generations coming together, the healing journey

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Sanctuary of A Angustia, Betanzos, Galicia (Spain)

When I submitted the manuscript for “Walking My Mother Home,” I knew that the story between me, Rosa and Pedro, my Spanish family, was far from over. The healing I received when my mother passed away created a beautiful bond between Rosa and I that will last the rest of my life. What is so unique about this relationship is that Rosa and I don’t speak the same language, we live 5,300 miles apart, and we have never met. But that is about to change.

Next week, almost three years to the day we welcomed Pedro into our home that first summer, I will step on Spanish soil and meet Rosa, my kindred spirit and sister in Christ. It will be the beginning of the trip of a lifetime for me—six weeks in Spain.

Over the past two years, since Pedro was last in our home, Rosa and I have continued to communicate via email and online translators. We have both looked forward to the day when we’ll meet in person. Rosa has been learning English to facilitate our communications. I have been writing and blogging more about this story and our relationship across the miles.

One of the key pieces of the story that materialized shortly after my mother died was the role that Pedro’s music played in our relationship. As I mentioned in “Walking My Mother Home,” Pedro played the piano while he was in our home. I also mentioned that my oldest son was a gifted pianist. This is significant because Pedro was placed in our home precisely because his musical interest matched with my two sons’ musical abilities. It was a match made in heaven.

Pedro played the piano every day he was in our home. My son played Beethoven, Chopin and other classical composers’ music. Pedro was interested in cinema and played American movie soundtracks to films like “The Sound of Music” and “The Sting.” I didn’t know it at the time, but interspersed with his music, he played a few of his own compositions.

A few months after Pedro returned to Spain, he sent our family a song he composed and dedicated to us: “Seattle”. This song, and others he started to send me, were salve to my aching heart as I grieved over the death of my mother. His music has become a staple of my life as he writes songs that mark the special occasions in our lives—my own personal soundtrack so to speak.

One thing led to another and I soon found myself partnering with this musical protégé. Our joint love for music soon developed into my becoming Pedro’s music manager, the creation of a professional CD of his music, and worldwide exposure on iTunes and other online music sites. That exposure paid off a few months ago when Pedro’s music was noticed by a Spanish film production company. The trailer to Pedro’s debut movie score was released earlier this month. None of this movie business was even a possibility when I booked my flights to Spain, but now in God’s perfect timing, I will be in Spain for the release of his short film, “Thirst for Love”, in July.

The focus of my trip from the start was meeting Rosa and being able to connect with her one-on-one about our mutual experience of losing our mothers—from different parts of the world. I know God will honor and bless us as we take this next step of healing and support in our relationship. We will fumble through our language barrier at first, but I trust our non-verbal communication and love will override those obstacles.

Pedro spent two summers in my home immersed in American culture and language as part of a short term exchange program. In the summer of 2013, it will be my turn to be the exchange student. And I’m going to meet Rosa…. Truly a match made in heaven.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Is Mother’s Day Painful for You?

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, feeling inadequate, forgiving mom, forgiving yourself, God as our parent, the healing journey

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flowers

How many of us, if we were really honest, would admit that we don’t look forward to Mother’s Day? We dread this day devoted to celebrating mothers. It conjures up feelings of inadequacies in our own parenting or maybe how we didn’t live up to the expectations our parents had for us. Maybe it even reminds us of the shame or condemnation we felt at the hands of our parents—especially our mothers.

Mother’s Day isn’t always about bouquets of flowers or a box of chocolates for mom. Sometimes it is filled with bitter memories of a childhood loss due to abusive parents, a longing for the birth mother we never knew, or regrets from things we said or did that can’t be taken back. Maybe your mother has died and you miss her presence in your life.

Those kinds of painful memories can also leave us questioning God or turning our back on him. Ultimately, I think, Mother’s Day can leave us yearning for something more.

What is that something more? It is the filling of the hole in our heart left by unforgiveness and broken dreams. How do we fill it? Maybe we turn to alcohol, drugs or sexual fantasizing; or maybe it is to acceptable forms of addictions like busyness and people pleasing—whatever it takes to make the ache go away. Haven’t we all done it or experienced it to some degree?

To all of you daughters and mothers who are in a painful place this Mother’s Day, I empathize with you; for I used to be there too. Don’t give up hope. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV).

We can choose how we want to react to all of these circumstances. We can choose to walk in the light and hope of Christ, or we can choose to walk in the doom and gloom of the past. The past doesn’t need to define us. We have a choice.

As believers, we belong to the family of God, the body of Christ. If we don’t have a mother who bonded with us or nurtured us in loving ways, we can still get that kind of nurturing from our spiritual family and friends. Our family of birth does not have to define us. It is Christ and the family of God that define our identity.

Every day can be a day to celebrate mothers, if we view it from God’s perspective. Choose joy.

Dear brothers and sisters, I close my letter with these last words: Be joyful. Grow to maturity. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you (2 Corinthians 13:11, NLT).

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Filling the Jar with Rocks

29 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, Gratitude, reach out and touch, show love by serving

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 Rocks in a Jar

Ever since my “invest in people” nudge from the Lord referenced in “Walking My Mother Home,” I’ve paid more attention to those little nudges. Following that first nudge has led to dramatic changes in my life including my friendship with Rosa, Pedro’s mother, and my one-on-one investing in others who God puts on my path.

This is the story of a recent people investment that had profound results.

I was pleasantly surprised a few weeks ago when I got a call from Sandra, a new friend my husband and I met at a marriage workshop we recently attended in California. My surprise turned to sadness when I heard her brother had passed away. Sandra had dropped everything to fly to Washington State to see him before he died. On that short trip she hadn’t had time to meet with me, but would be back in town for the memorial service.

A few weeks passed and I was surprised to see that the memorial service was scheduled at the country club a mile from my house. Initially Sandra had hoped we would connect over a cup of coffee, but her time was filled with family obligations. That was perfectly understandable.

Regardless of that, I knew I would go to the memorial service. I didn’t know Sandra’s brother. I didn’t know her family. I barely knew her. Yet after an intensive weekend together in couples’ counseling sessions, we already had a heart connection. I didn’t consider not going.

After hugs on my arrival, she seated me next to a relative and bravely took her position up front with the immediate family. As the service started, I felt a nudge to record the proceedings. That isn’t totally out of character for me. My digital recorder is an indispensable tool for my writing. I didn’t really give it a second thought.

Family members read letters filled with sweet stories and memories of Sandra’s brother. The chaplain shared a story (author unknown) about sand, pebbles and rocks filling up a jar. The point of the metaphor was that the rocks are the important things in our lives—the people and things we can’t replace—and that we should make them a priority. If we fill our lives (the jar) with the unimportant things in life (the sand and pebbles) we won’t have room for the rocks. It was a fitting reflection to end the service.

When Sandra and I connected after the service, she mentioned how disappointed she was that her elderly mother couldn’t attend the service. She so wanted to have the service recorded but there were family objections to that.

“Really? That’s so sad,” I said. I felt goosebumps as I remembered I had recorded the service. I confessed my transgression to her. She was thrilled and started to cry. Sandra proceeded to tell me how anxious she had been about that for the past few weeks. My recording was answered prayer for her. It was a kiss from above and a reminder of God’s amazing love for us.

Sandra and I stole some time together on the deck of the clubhouse overlooking the golf course, basking in the warmth of the sun. We caught up on our lives, prayed for each other and reflected on how perfectly God had filled our jars on that very day with what was truly important—time together and the simple gift of following a nudge to invest in people.

What are you filling your jar with?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

It’s Not too Late to Forgive

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in confessing our need, leaving a legacy, letting go of anger, reconciliation, the healing journey

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Ardis and her dad

Ardis with her dad soon before his death

Like a scab ripped from the skin, my wound was exposed again. Why would I deliberately enter into that wound again? How could I think that it was really healed? A recent post, “I Forgive You,” by Catherine Lawton was the catalyst that prompted me to take another look. That, and the fact that I spent Holy Week last year caring for my 93-year-old father, sent my mind back to the months preceding his death.

Catherine’s post reminded me of how the words and actions of forgiveness were not something that was modeled to me when I was growing up. Tears weren’t allowed either. We were taught to ‘buck it up’ and move on. Reading that post took me back to the letter I had written my father a year before he died. My grief at that time was still fresh from my mother’s passing, and my healing was making me bold in things of the heart. After reading Catherine’s post I pulled out that year-old letter.

Re-reading the letter to my father brought the pain of the wound to the surface. Tears overcame me as I read the words I had penned to him about my inner healing. I knew he had worried about me in the past, concerned that I would develop mental illness like my mother. He had told me that he was ‘watching me’ for signs. So I wrote the letter to reassure him that I was okay.

I’ll share a part of the letter to hopefully inspire others to forgive their parents. I sent this letter with no expectations from him in return. I just wrote what I felt the Lord laid on my heart to tell him:

“I won’t know all God’s purposes until I am in Heaven, too. But here on this earth and in this time, I have received incredible healing and much peace…. That is what I want for you, Dad. I thought it was important for you to know that Mom forgave you [before she died]. I want you to know that I forgive you also. I know you did the best you could under the circumstances. Even if you do have regrets about any of these family things, I know that, as a Smith,* it would be incredibly difficult for you to admit it. We Smiths always think we are so right. I guess if I had one regret in my upbringing it would be that I didn’t learn how to forgive others and to say “I’m sorry.” Those words would’ve helped me let go of so much of my anger and resentments years ago…

“…It’s not too late for you, Dad. You can do this. You can release all your ‘rightness’ and no-regrets thinking to the Lord. You can leave this family with a legacy of forgiveness. I hope and pray the Lord will bless you and keep you in His love for all your remaining days.

“I love you.

“Ardis”

My father never mentioned this letter to me or anything that was in it, but my stepmother told me he read and re-read it many times. I believe it sank into his heart, bridged the distance between us, and eventually gave him the ability to go in peace. Risking his rejection and ridicule by expressing my heart was worth it.

How about you? Is there someone to whom you need to say “I forgive you” while there is still time?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

A Letter to my Mom

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by in God's healing love, Learning to appreciate Mom, leaving a legacy, mother wounds, show love by serving

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Ardis and her mother in the hospital

Ardis with her mother on the first trip she describes in her story, “Walking my Mother Home” in Journeys to Mother Love

Reading each of the stories in “Journeys to Mother Love” gave me a glimpse into the lives and pain of eight other women who have allowed Christ to bring healing into their hearts. I love reading stories like these because they impart hope and inspiration that each of us can connect with or apply to our lives.

One of my takeaways was from the story written by Verna Hills Simms, “Take Care of Your Mother.” I was touched by how she writes a letter to her deceased mother every year on her mother’s birthday. I thought it was a wonderful idea, and decided to do the same thing. With the anniversary of my mother’s passing a few weeks ago, I chose to do it in honor of that occasion.

Dear Mom,

It has been two years since the day the Lord took you home to be with Him. I still marvel how God perfectly orchestrated the events leading up to your death and the identity revelations He gave me as a result. I know you have been watching all of these things from above. I sense your overwhelming joy at how I have embraced the parts of me that mirror your personality and faith in the Lord.

After you passed away, it was hard for me to adapt and internalize all of the changes. I look back now and can hardly recognize the person I was before. Rosa and Pedro are a regular part of my life now. It is like I have found a long lost sister, and adopted Pedro as a son. I will finally meet Rosa face to face in Spain this summer. I know you will be there with me in spirit too.

I know you are at peace where you are. I delight in the thought that Carmen, Rosa’s mother, was waiting with open arms to meet you there as well. Your family expanded in heaven the day you died as mine did here on earth with Rosa and Pedro.

Mom, I know the months, weeks and days that passed after your stroke must’ve seemed like an eternity to you, not being able to speak, to feed yourself and needing total care just for routine bodily functions. I wish I could’ve helped more and been by your side more than just those few visits. I wanted you to know that those visits were so special to me—to be able to dote on you and help care for you like you did for me over fifty years ago when I was young. I know you loved me and did all you could for me.

Your suffering was for a purpose as it gave me an opportunity to see myself as God sees me and eliminated my fears related to your mental illness. That was not the legacy the Lord destined for you to hand down to me. I am mentally healthy now. And the Lord has helped me to embrace your sensitivity and faith as the legacies I want to impart to others.

Thank you, Mom, for your sacrifices and your final gift of unconditional love.  I look forward to the day we are reunited in eternity. 

Love,
Ardis

~ Ardis Nelson

A Friendship Born in Sorrow

06 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, God's healing love, importance of prayer, reach out and touch, show love by serving, the healing journey

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RosaRosa

As mentioned in my story, “Walking My Mother Home,” during the time I was walking through healing in my relationship with my mother I developed a long-distance friendship with Rosa, who lives in Spain. Rosa’s mother, Carmen, passed away a few weeks before my mother. The connection with Rosa led me, a Protestant, to a Catholic Church to pray on bended knee and release my mother to the Lord. It was at this exact time that Carmen’s funeral was proceeding in Spain.

Rosa’s and my relationship was born out of sorrow, nurtured by prayer, and sealed in love. It was perfectly timed to help me heal the void and loss in my heart caused by never really knowing my mother as a person and not being able to have a relationship with her. Her death brought out a lot of feelings and the Lord has been faithful to heal and give me a fresh start.

Rosa, though, was close to her mother. Two years later, Rosa is still grieving the loss of her mother, Carmen, who was a significant part of Rosa’s life. Carmen was the family matriarch, surrounded by a large Catholic family that loved her. The loss was great not only for Rosa, but for Rosa’s father and the rest of the family as well. While my burden is light, Rosa’s is still heavy at times as she alternates live-in care giving with her sister for their aging father. One way or another, life goes on for both of us.

My relationship with Rosa has become a beautiful testimony to the legacy of mother love and of the Lord’s love for us. Our lives intersected in a painful and poignant way. When I first heard of her mother’s terminal illness, I knew God wanted me to come alongside Rosa in her grief. It was not easy to be so vulnerable with her—someone I never met, who lived 5,300 miles away, spoke a different language and belonged to the faith (my mother’s faith) that I had turned my back on many years ago. I feared rejection. Yet God called me out of my comfort zone to extend a heart of compassion to her. And I’m glad I did!

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Imparting Christmas Traditions

12 Wednesday Dec 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, Learning to appreciate Mom, leaving a legacy, Parenting

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Handmade Christmas Ornaments

Photo: Ardis Nelson

For most of us, Christmastime is a season ripe with family traditions and nostalgia. Not for me, though. My parents didn’t impart most of the kinds of Christmas memories other people have. So when my kids were young, I made an effort to create Christmas traditions in our home. We’ve done the annual portraits for Christmas giving, photos with Santa, and we periodically indulge in baking cookies.

One of the traditions I tried to carry on from my husband’s childhood was the creation of handmade ornaments. We inherited a collection of beautiful beaded and sequined handmade ornaments that he and his mother made when he was growing up. When my sons were 18 months and five years old, I took them to a nearby ceramic studio and started the tradition of annual hand-painted ornaments. My oldest son gave up that tradition a few years ago, but hopefully my youngest son will humor me for his 15th year.

Handmade Christmas Ornaments

Photo: Ardis Nelson

We also started going to a tree farm to cut down a real tree for Christmas. Alas, that tradition didn’t stick. Then this year when the pre-lit Christmas tree was beyond repairing, I decided to give the real tree another try. With the help of a friend and her teenage son, my 15-year-old son and I trekked to a nearby tree farm and cut down a tree. (Only time will tell if this will be a new continuing tradition or just a treasured memory.)

The next day, my girlfriend returned to help decorate the tree. When I pulled out the angel to top the tree, that is when it hit me—the mom factor. The angel had been a gift from my mother! In that moment I saw my mother’s love for me anew.

That angel has graced my Christmas tree, fake or real, for many years. My mother hoarded things and had many financial problems over the years. She would shower me with gifts—despite my requests not to. Since my mother’s passing last year, this angel is now very precious to me—with its shimmering white linen and lace skirt, silver wings and porcelain face and hands. She sits on top of my tree as a symbol of the angels heralding Jesus birth—and of my mother’s love.

Angel on Christmas Tree

Photo: Ardis Nelson

Seeing that angel reminded me that my mother did instill a Christmas tradition in my life. She would make the holiday special by decorating our home. As a child I had helped my mother decorate the tree and house for the holidays. It was something I always looked forward to.

As my girlfriend and I unwrapped each ornament and hung it on the tree, she humored me as I recounted the story behind each one. When it came time to place the angel on the tree, it reminded me of how mothers shape the feelings, traditions, and memories of Christmas.

We can impart memories of the hustle and bustle of the season, or we can impart some life-giving nuggets that our children will treasure for years to come. Of course, Jesus is the reason for the season. That is first and foremost in what I want my children to remember about Christmas. In addition to that, though, as the pulse of  home life, mothers can shape how their children remember Christmas in other ways.

Consider the traditions and memories you are imparting to your children this holiday season. Be deliberate in what you want them to remember. Most of all be sure to decorate your celebration with the love of Christ!

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Birthday Thankfulness

24 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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Thursday was my 53rd birthday, the 8th time in my life that my birthday fell on Thanksgiving. I deliberately carved out (pun intended) a little ‘me’ time to write this post after pondering my birthdays of yesteryear and the day I was born.

I know that my mother was not awake when she gave birth to me. Back then, doctors administered a combination of pain and amnesia medications which would render a woman unconscious during childbirth. My father waited expectantly in the waiting room, probably with other fathers, for word of my birth.

In those days, there were no ultrasounds to ‘preview’ the child’s gender. “It’s a girl!” were likely the first words I heard as I entered the world.

I was named after my father’s sister, who eventually became my godmother. I wasn’t very close to Aunt Ardis. She always lived hundreds or even thousands of miles away throughout my life. She couldn’t have kids of her own, but she was honored to have a niece named after her.

Aunt Ardis died many years ago. Sadly, I was not able to attend her funeral. When her husband, Uncle Edgar, died six years ago, the executor of the estate gave me the opportunity to take some personal belongings for a keepsake. I took the small amount of inheritance I received and flew to their home in Wisconsin to explore the estate. I returned home with a beautiful set of china and some silver pieces that grace my dining room table every holiday.

More than that though was the treasure trove of cards, letters and keepsakes overlooked by other family members who arrived before me. That night in the solitude of my hotel room, I scoured through the pile and was blessed beyond belief as I read letters from my mother to Aunt Ardis, filling her in on my childhood and sending her my school photos. My aunt had every letter and Christmas card I sent her as an adult as well.

I also read through the condolence cards sent to my uncle when she passed away. I really got a feel for who she was, even though I didn’t know her well when she was alive. Being in her home and going through her belongings also gave me a glimpse into myself. Best of all was finding the original birth announcement my parents sent to her decades before. She kept all of my mementos—and in the process, left me a legacy of love!

That trip was a precious gift to me from above. It gave me more wholeness and helped to fill in the gaps of my earthly identity. It is the gifts like this, the ones that touch my heart, that mean the most to me. This Thanksgiving birthday was celebrated with gratitude for the One who has transformed my heart in so many ways over the last few years.  He has redeemed the years that the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

Thank you, Mom, for giving me life. Thank you for investing in me. Healing and wholeness are true gifts to be celebrated on Thanksgiving and everyday.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Mother Wounds

07 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, forgiving mom, generational patterns, mother wounds, the healing journey

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cropped-blog-header-web1.jpg

My mother wounds ran deep—too deep to ever look at until God nudged me back to my elderly mother’s side after her debilitating stroke. Before that first trip back home in November 2009, I had written my mother off. Her schizophrenia made her unavailable to me emotionally, although I didn’t label it as that until I started to look at my own emotional deficits and participated in deep healing classes.

But I couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault. I was only six years old when she had her nervous breakdown. I didn’t realize how much nurturing I wasn’t getting from her. But I knew I didn’t want to be like her in any way, shape or form. The further the distance I could put between us, the less likely I would be reminded I was her daughter. And the easier it was for me to hide from the stigma of her mental illness and the possibility that I could end up like her.

It was with that “history” that I walked into a healing class several years ago based on the book The Mom Factor by bestselling Christian psychologists Drs. Henry Cloud and John Townsend. These authors identified six common types of mothers: the Phantom Mom, the China Doll Mom, the Controlling Mom, the Trophy Mom, the Still-the-Boss Mom and the American Express Mom. In the class we looked at the characteristics of each of these and identified the result of that type of mothering. I found this process very difficult emotionally. (I had the Phantom Mom.)

I shed many a tear as I started to understand and to grieve what I didn’t get from my mother. I learned how to get my unmet needs met in healthy ways. (The Mom Factor also includes healing steps for the adult children of each mothering type.) I found out it wasn’t too late to get the mothering I hadn’t received. I could be “re-mothered” through the women that God was putting on my path.

Our final class assignment was to write a letter to our mothers about the mothering we received. Although I experienced a lot of healing of my mother wound in this class, I couldn’t do the assignment—at least not according to the instructions. Instead of writing a letter to my mother, I chose to write a letter to my son who was turning 13 at the time. It was a letter admitting my own mothering deficiencies, labeling the type of mother I was, vowing to break the generational curse and, with God’s help, to change my mothering patterns. It was a step in forgiving myself.

One by one the women openly shared their letters to their mothers and then ceremoniously burned them. I waited until last to share my letter—nervous that I would be judged for not doing it right. I openly wept as I read it. There was no judgment or criticism from these other women. We were all on the same journey to wholeness, where grace abounds.

Although I had to wait for God’s timing for the bigger healing of my mother wound as outlined in the story “Walking My Mother Home” (in Journeys to Mother Love), identifying the type of mothering I received was a positive step in the right direction. I know my children are better off for my having done so.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Emerging From the Cocoon

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by in mother wounds, reconciliation, show love by serving, the healing journey

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a butterfly on flowers

(Photo: C. Lawton)

When the contributing authors of Journeys to Mother Love were asked to write posts for this blog, I was thrilled. I had been blogging for a year and felt comfortable with the format. I was finding my voice and believed that God was giving me a story to share and point people to Him. But when it comes to writing about motherly themes for this blog, I feel somewhat lost and unequipped.

Less than two years now since my mother passed, the healing of my mother-wound is still somewhat fresh. I speak openly about what happened in the process, but I am still grieving the loss incurred by the fact that I didn’t really have a mother all the years that she was living. The mothering I didn’t get has had a profound effect on who I am today.

As described in my story, “Walking My Mother Home,” tremendous healing came as the Lord led me to minister to my mother in her final years of life. While I feel more spiritually alive and emotionally whole, I know there are still parts of me that are small, that missed having a mother’s love. It opens up from time and time like a gaping hole in my heart. Thankfully those moments are becoming few and far between, and I tend to recover more quickly.

Before my mother’s stroke in July 2009, I didn’t give her much thought. We weren’t completely estranged, but I really didn’t feel like I had a  mother. Since my mother was schizophrenic virtually all my life, I have no idea what went on in her mind, but I imagine she was sane enough to long for a loving daughter. In God’s infinite mercy and wisdom, that is what He gave her in the last eighteen months of her life. I didn’t know what I had missed, not having a mother-daughter relationship, until God gave me the joy of loving and caring for her.

Years ago when she gave birth to her only daughter, she couldn’t have fathomed the painful years that were ahead. Her life seemed normal. I am sure she had dreams for me and my brothers. Somewhere along the line she let go of those dreams and replaced them with fantasies fed by her mental illness.

Today, though, my mother is happily smiling at me from across my desk where I keep a photo of her, and from heaven above, with motherly pride for the woman that is now emerging from her cocoon like the butterfly that graces the cover of Journeys to Mother Love. I am like that butterfly, transformed from a shy little girl unsure of her own fate and sanity, into a woman who is more confident and free to be all that God is calling me to be. I’m even finding my own voice!

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Celebrating Our Milestones

06 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by in encouraging each other, the healing journey

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A gift wrapped for a celebration

My first birthday after my mother passed away was my 52nd birthday. As I wrote in “Walking My Mother Home,” I cancelled my 50th birthday party to stay in St. Louis and spend my birthday with my mother. I wanted to shower her with love and devotion like I am sure she did for me when I was born.

Of course my friends understood. When I originally cancelled the party, my friend Janet, the hostess, offered to host the party after I returned. I accepted her offer, but with my mother still painfully hanging on to life, having a party was not something I wanted to do very soon.

One year later, I quietly celebrated my 51st birthday with no fanfare and with much reflection on my visit the previous year. The months continued to pass and my mother passed away in February 2011, as I described in my story. The revelations I experienced as a result of that journey have led to a transformation in me and birthed my desire to write and to boldly celebrate God’s healing power.

When my 52nd birthday approached in November 2011, I felt it was time to celebrate. Janet again offered to host the party. This time the party was totally different than the planned original. It was a sentimental and unconventional birthday party.

This party was held with a small group of friends who had prayed for me and watched the journey unfold with my mother. I planned several surprises for these friends including an appearance by my Spanish “family,” Rosa and Pedro, via Skype. Rosa read a note of birthday wishes she composed in English. That was her surprise for me.

I did a reading from a short story about the cross pendant I received from my Spanish family and its significance. Pedro translated the story for his mother. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. We ended the day with these faithful prayer warriors anointing my writing for “Walking My Mother Home,” my first manuscript, which at that point was barely a work in progress.

On this day of celebrating my new identity revelations, I didn’t want any physical gifts from my friends, just their presence. But I did receive one very special gift of the heart that day. When I woke up on the morning of my birthday party, “Ardis’s Song,”  a song composed by Pedro, was waiting for me in my email. It was the perfect melody to capture the inner transformation I had experienced—starting slow and ending with a cheerful melody. So I started the day with tears of joy in my eyes and ended it anointed and re-purposed to share God’s story in my life.

Celebrating milestones like turning 50 are a common occurrence in our lives. If you approach life from a viewpoint that every day is a gift, you will see that there are so many milestones in our lives worth celebrating. As an avid scrapbooker and photographer, I capture most of life’s milestones through the eye of the camera lens. With the addition of Pedro’s music, I now have a “soundtrack” that goes along with it.

I encourage you to celebrate and commemorate the milestones in your life—no matter how big or small. We can cling to these milestones, along with God’s Word, when times are rough.

What about you? What kind of milestone in your life are you experiencing today? How are you celebrating? Who are you sharing it with?

~Ardis A. Nelson

Walking My Father Home, Part 1

14 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by in generations coming together, leaving a legacy

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Ardis as a young child with her father

Ardis as a young child with her father

My father died at the age of 94, just six weeks before “Journeys to Mother Love” was released. I had hoped he would be able to see the finished book before he passed, but that didn’t happen.

Dad was of the generation that didn’t ever discuss emotions or shower people with compliments. Matters of family were best kept to ourselves. And although he openly shared the stories of his life with anyone in earshot, he definitely didn’t have any desire to have his stories published.

Years before I ever had the thought of becoming a writer, I tried to get my father to document his stories on the computer. I even bought him a book about how to leave a written legacy for our family. He wanted no part of that. Instead he appointed me family historian. I took notes of our conversations and recorded our talks.

His health deteriorated quickly in the last few months. He was frail. His eyes were failing. It was hard for him to concentrate for very long. He spent most of his days in bed. I thought his health would prevent him reading my story. He had no idea I was even writing it.

I had shared with Dad about the healing I had experienced in my relationship with my mother before she died. Mom and Dad had been divorced for 40 years, but he seemed to have an interest in my relationship with her. He was very proud of how my brothers and I cared for her in her final years.

During this visit in February, I prayed that my father would be open to my telling this story more publicly. I prayed for the words and the right time to tell him, and for a way for him to somehow read this story before it was too late. God answered all those prayers.

My father expressed surprise at hearing of my writing and interest in how this all came about. I loaded the electronic file of the manuscript with a very large font on his computer. He surprised me by staying up late and read the entire story in one sitting.

His words of affirmation of my writing and the story were an incredible gift—from a man who rarely gave a compliment. When the time came to edit the manuscript, the publisher requested more background information about my mother. I had more conversations with my father and found the missing pieces that I needed to add to the story.

There’s more to this story. I’ll share the rest in my next post.

Until then, we’d love to hear your story or comments.

~ Ardis A. Nelson