In adoration of my mother

I thank my God every time I remember you. (Philippians 1:3)

Today is my mother’s birthday. I’d mention what precise birthday this is, but the number has always been an unmentionable part of the remembrance. Since it’s her birthday, I’ll respect that wish and simply say that her years have made her all the more precious. 

More important than the number is the person, anyway. Today is exceptional because my mother is more so. My mom has always been my best friend. I know I can talk to her about anything, and she will always make me feel intelligent, talented, and beautiful. While the truth is that I am far from those things, as long as she thinks I am, that’s all that matters to me. 

My close bond with my mother intensified when I was fourteen after my brother was born. She and I shared an intense adoration of him as we watched and recorded every milestone in his life. Such a thing bonded the three of us, actually – and such a bond can never be broken. 

Six years ago, right after leaving my controlling husband, I took my first European trip with my mother. She always wanted to go to Italy, and I knew I had to take her there. What started as a week-long trip with a tour company ended up as a two-week-long annual excursion that my friends and co-workers now regularly inquire about. 

“Where are you going this year, Sara?” they ask, as they stare in wonder at the trip photos that grace my office. 

My mom and I have seen things others can barely envision. We’ve had experiences that few people could ever understand. While our journeys are memorable expeditions filled with beauty and majesty, they are also fraught with fear, tension, stress, and anxiety. We are two women traveling alone, after all, in foreign countries where we don’t speak the language. It’s only by the grace of God that we’ve made it through and come out smiling.

I am a combined travel planner, trip coordinator, driver, cook, security guard, and escort on these trips. We stay in rental apartments where the locals vacation and stick to a tight regimen of travel from town to town nearly every night. 

We’ve gotten lost in the dark woods with no cell signal in Sangerhausen, Germany, and had the lights go out in a building hallway while trying to find our apartment in Salzburg, Austria. We traveled at Mach speed on the German Autobahn in construction and rain with my contact lens nearly popping out of my eye and run to a train while dragging 50-pound bags of luggage in Rome, Italy.

In Genoa, Italy, we almost ran out of gas with no idea how to work the gas pumps in a deserted gas station. We prayed incessantly for safety while driving on the left-hand side of the road while seated on the right-hand side of our rental car in Edinburgh, Scotland. And on and on the stories go. I could give countless examples of God’s promised protection and provision while on these trips. 

But when detailing the trials, I must also chronicle the blessings we experienced. The God-moments that we have had are astounding. The most monumental was our chance encounter with Pope Francis in St. Paul’s cathedral in Rome. There was also the time we missed a turn near Garmisch, Germany, and nearly ended up in a parade – complete with horse-drawn carts, traditional costumes, and a full-blown blessing of the animals’ celebration. 

Whether it’s taking a cog-wheeled train to the highest station in the world in Switzerland or walking in on a BBC taping of a Wednesday afternoon church service in celebration of the Protestant Reformation’s 500th anniversary, the memories of my trips with my mother are resplendent with awe and wonder. 

I no longer refer to our trips as “vacations.” I now call them our “FROG Adventures” because we Fully Rely on God the entire time we are traveling. There will come a day when I will transfer my journal stories into mini books, detailing all our experiences. They are too remarkable to keep to myself. 

Unfortunately, this year, due to COVID restrictions, we’re unable to travel abroad. Instead, I will see my mom in Colorado, where she, my brother, and I will traverse the Rocky Mountains rather than the hills of foreign soil. It feels different, but any journey with my mother is a blessing. She is precious beyond description, to be sure. 

And so I end with the petition, “Above all, love one another deeply.” (1 Peter 4:8). We don’t know the number of days we will have with our loved ones, so each one is a gift to savor, cherish, and store in our memory banks. 

As for you, mom, I can only say, I love you beyond measure. You are of infinite value to me. While I’ve never been as smart as you think I am, I am the wealthiest person on earth to have you as my mother. 

I have countless, bejeweled memories of time spent with you, Mom. Thank you for believing in me. You are my most cherished blessing. For now and forevermore, I love you greatly.