I have never once told my story without first beginning with my parents' story. The choices they made changed the eternal trajectory of my life. Although it cost them greatly, the reward is invaluable.
Mom was born the oldest child of what would be eight siblings. The youngest is just a month older than I am. My grandfather served in the Navy and then worked as a truck driver throughout most of Mom’s childhood. My grandmother stayed home and tried to wrangle the very wild and unruly children. At some point during that time, my grandmother became heavily involved in the teachings of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. My grandpa, Mom, and her siblings followed suit.
Dad on the other hand was the middle son of six siblings. They grew up on a small farm in North East Texas. Pawpaw worked in the timber business, and my granny raised kids... her kids, other people’s kids…lots of kids. I know my granny was a committed follower of Jesus. I think my pawpaw was too, but he died when I was only four months old, so I don’t know a lot about him.
Mom got married young, to a young man who was part of the Jehovah’s Witness group. I don’t know a lot of details, but the marriage didn’t last long. They got a divorce and Mom kind of wandered around for a few years trying to figure out who she wanted to be. She was soon disfellowshipped from the Jehovah’s Witnesses since she wasn’t abiding by their rules anymore.
Dad lived at home until he was almost thirty, but he did his own thing and made his own trouble at times. I don’t know how they met, but I do know it wasn’t long after they met that they decided to get married. My brother came along a year later, and I followed only a year after that.
As my brother and I grew out of the baby stage, Mom and Dad agreed that we needed to be raised with a foundation of faith like they were. They started off by attending a few Jehovah’s Witness meetings together. And that is where their story came to a life altering crossroads. After attending the meetings, my Dad recognized that the teachings being presented did not match that of the scripture He had learned as a child. My dad is a super chill, go with the flow, kinda guy, but that day he drew a line in the sand. He told my mom, “You can go back to the meetings if you want, but the kids and I will not be going.” Taking that stand could have cost him his marriage, but Dad knew that there are things even more costly than marriage.
My mom was then placed on the path of many decisions that would affect her own life and the generations of lives that would come after her. First, Mom had to decide between the Jehovah’s Witnesses or the unity of her marriage. She wasn’t sure which to choose. At that point, she had been told many different versions of who Jesus is and what that should mean for her life. Suddenly, her beloved husband was telling her that many of the things she was taught as a child were not what scripture actually says. Who should she believe? How would she know what was true?
Somewhere in the midst of this crisis of belief, my mom met a man named Ollen Loven. Bro. Loven did what no one else had done. He sat down with Mom, opened the Bible and taught her the most important of lessons. He taught her to listen, not to what all the people told her, but to look at what God said in scripture. When you aren’t sure what the Truth is, read God’s word. So, Mom read, and read, and read, and studied, and learned, and prayed. What she found there is Jesus. Jesus as Lord. Jesus as “God with us.” Jesus as Savior. Jesus as the lover of our souls. She found and placed her faith in Jesus, and her life would never be the same, neither would mine.
It wasn’t long before the Jehovah’s Witness group found out that Mom had declared Jesus as her Savior and Lord. That’s when their elders drew a line in the sand. They told her to denounce Jesus, come back to their group, or forever be separated from her parents and most of her siblings. She was unspeakably grateful for the siblings that continued to remain connected with her despite the directives of the Jehovah's Witness group. Being put in the position to make that choice is the kind of thing we hear about happening in countries where being a Christian is illegal. Most people in the American church aren’t put in that difficult position. My mom was crushed. She loved her parents, and her siblings, and their families with her whole heart. She knew that choosing to obey the Jehovah's Witness leaders would make her life easier, but choosing Jesus would make her eternal life possible.
Mom chose Jesus. She chose Jesus because she knew that He was her only hope. She chose Jesus because she knew He is my only hope, and my brother’s only hope. She chose Jesus and for the rest of her life she experienced the joy of redemption and also the sorrow of being separated from many of her beloved family members.
I remember when I was about seven or eight, my Grandfather had an issue with his heart and had to be hospitalized. I went into the sanctuary of our church where mom worked as the secretary and just fell to my knees praying that Jesus would save him, not only physically, but would save his soul. Mom and I had thousands of conversations over the years about our hope that Mom and her estranged family members would be able to be reconciled to each other, that they would be open to a relationship with her, but more so that they would be reconciled to God, that they would be open to a relationship with Jesus. She missed them terribly. Any time she was able to connect with her parents or the siblings she was estranged from, she talked about it for weeks. She prayed for them without ceasing.
About the time I graduated from high school, mom began a battle with depression and anxiety. The battle with her mental health took a toll on her physical health as well. Sixteen years ago, when I was six months pregnant with the twins, she had a stroke that changed her ability to process information. To the untrained eye, she didn’t look any different than she had before, but her life became more difficult. She struggled to work. The depression, anxiety, and addictive tendencies became increasingly worse. But even with all that hardship, she continued to love Jesus and love her family with a fierceness that is unmatched.
As the grand kids grew, she was always involved in their daily activities. Even though we moved three hours away, she continued to call and text often. She wanted to know everything about every aspect of their lives. She prayed for them, checked in on them, guided them, and loved them with everything in her.
About five years ago, I called Mom on my way home from work. Her health had declined and it was difficult for her to get out of the house. They lived in a long-standing frame farmhouse way out in the country. Mom told me that she’d thought about getting a mouse trap because she had seen a mouse, but hadn’t yet because the mouse was the only one she had spoken to all day. She was lonely, and missed being a part of the outside world.
From that day on, I called her every single day on my way home from work. We talked about work, the kids, and the things going on in the world. Sometimes she offered advice that I didn’t want to hear, but Mom was always my Mom and told me what I needed to hear whether I liked it or not. Sometimes she would fill me in on bits and pieces of family news that she had heard through the grapevine. Even after all those years, she continued to attempt to reach out and connect with her family.
Last summer, we had the blessed opportunity of having dinner with several of her siblings. Some of them she had not seen in years. She talked about that event for months. She was so excited to be able to spend time with the family that she loved so much. Over the years, God had worked miracles in the hearts of some of her siblings and they had learned the Truth of scripture as well. I am eternally grateful for that family dinner. It was the answer to years of Mom’s prayers. She was still talking about that dinner up until the week before she left us.
My last conversation with Mom was on my way home from work that last Friday. We talked about Chris’s granddad’s cancer diagnosis and his possible need for treatment. Mom said that if she ever got sick, she would refuse treatment. She didn’t want to go through all that. When it was her time to go, she wanted to just go on home to Heaven with Jesus, without fuss. That’s what Jesus gave her.
The last day of her life here, Dad came home from work for lunch. They ate sandwiches together, just like they had done a thousand times before and Dad went back to work. My brother texted her and talked about what to buy Dad for Christmas. Mom answered the text almost immediately, just like always. A few minutes later Dad got home and found that Mom had left this life and stepped into eternity quickly and without fuss.
Goodness, I miss her, but I’m okay, because I know without a bit of doubt that she is okay. Her faith cost her so much during her time here, but because of her faith, I found mine. Because of my faith, my kids know Jesus too. Because of our faith in Jesus, we have been reconciled to God and have been given the promise of eternal life in Heaven. Mom decided to follow Jesus, despite what she would have to give up. She truly surrendered all. Not many people can say that. She struggled mightily with some mental health hardships, but her devotion to Jesus never waivered. I pray that someday, when I go home to heaven, the legacy I leave will be even a morsel of my Mother’s. She is and will always be my hero.
Well done, Mom, you were a good and faithful servant. I will miss you until I come home too.
