Long before I decided to start my own blog my sister, Molly, began to share her heart with the world through her blog, To Move. Molly has always encouraged the parts of me that I am too timid to share with the world. The following blog post was written shortly after my wedding day, which was five years ago today. This blog was also written one week before Momma passed away. Blue edits reflect the passing of time, the changes, the growth. Hi guys! Loretta here. As most of Molly’s readers know, I recently (March 11, 2017) went from a Ms. to a Mrs. I got hitched. I tied the knot. You may also know that Zach and I (along with an army of family and friends) planned and executed a pretty stinking spectacular wedding in just 5 weeks. What some of you may not know is this. Zach and I were supposed to get married up at the cabin in early September. God decided that March was just more fitting for us, I suppose. Someday, whether it's our ten-year anniversary or beyond, Zach and I hope to renew our vows at the lake. You see, I had received a phone call on Tuesday, January 31 (2017) while studying for an exam. It was Momma, her voice only cracking for a moment after I had asked what the doctor had said at her appointment that day. There was nothing left they could do. There would be no more treatments. Hope of winning this war against cancer had been lost once more. I was angry. I still struggle with this anger 5 years later Over the next five weeks, in the midst of planning our wedding, taking 18 credits, caring for Momma on the weekends, attempting to keep my relationship with Zach afloat, and participating in premarital counseling late on Sunday nights, I was angry. But joyful. And sad. But giddy. And lost. But also found. All of this, and more, all at the same time, even now as I write this. And now, as I reread and edit this. ![]() I am angry. I am angry at my father for not staying committed to the vows he had made to Momma 24 (30) years ago and the vows he made 6 years ago too. I am angry that the doctors had given up on my momma, despite knowing that each and every doctor that has ever come in contact with her, in both her personal and professional life, has come to adore her and only want what is in her best interest. I am angry at some of my siblings who have been absent for all of my young adult life, even more so during this time when we would have benefited from their presence. This anger has faded, although, as a way to protect my heart and my family, I no longer speak to two of Momma's children. I am angry at Momma, she should have gone to the doctor sooner, she could have told me what she knew. She should be here, teaching me how to get Goldfish cracker crumbs out of the couch cushions. I am angry at God, with each drive to and from Mason City I scream at Him while tears force me to pull over to the side of the road. The song, You Make Me Brave, was played loud enough to scream to, loud enough to worship through the anger. So, again, I am angry. I am joyful. Making the Dean’s List fills me with joy. Damn, I worked my tail off last semester and, apparently, that work paid off. And now, that work has paved the way for me to work with the littlest of learners, and their families everyday. Laughing with Momma and now Linc fills me with joy. Over the past 7 months (2 1/2 years), laughter has filled my heart. We have shared stories about each other’s childhood and what the best brand of dill pickle chips are. Lincoln refuses to eat dill pickle chips and makes me belly laugh everyday. Zach fills me with joy. In Zach’s arms, I find peace, I find rest, and I can cry ugly tears. Through this season, he is my grace, my protection, and my light. In this life, he is all of this and more. And God is our joy. In God’s arms, we am humbled, broken, and made new. Through this season, He is our grace, our protection, and our light. In this life, He is all of this and more. I am sad. I had a plan for Momma, regardless of who my husband was going to be. A plan I had thought up years ago. I planned on Momma living above my garage after I got married. I planned on making certain that we had an in-law suite just right for Momma. She would “come over” on Tuesday nights for pizza and game night, watch the kids one Saturday a month for date night, and my husband and I would sign her up for ridiculous old-lady clubs that she would say she hated, but secretly adored. Momma was supposed to be my classroom’s designated grandma. I planned on her coming into my classroom and reading to my students the way she had always read to me, using silly voices, wild facial expressions, and unruly gestures to bring the story to life. I was supposed to finally get to take care of my momma the way she had always taken care of me. But, now Momma and I have discussed a new plan, one that is ideal for her, but a little more difficult for me to swallow. First, before anything else, Momma plans on watching over Adeline, my beautiful step-daughter, my first baby girl. As time goes on and Zach and I decide to grow our family, Momma plans on holding our babies long before we ever have a chance to. Momma says that she is going to teach them things that only she can, so we know that Grandma Diane was with them first. Lincoln was held by Momma. DK too, and Manny, and Haisley. All of her grandbabies will have heard her belly laugh. Momma plans to still live above our garage, just in a bit of an upgrade from a piddly ol’ in-law suite. I am giddy. I do not make a very good wife. Hell, I don’t even make a very okay wife. I vowed to steal Zach’s socks and keep the fridge stocked with mint chocolate chip ice cream. One of those vows have been held up, the other is too tempting to keep around the house. I am giddy to continue to keep our vows raw, honest, and always present in our walk together. I am giddy to be given a lot of grace, a lot of love, and a lot of joy from my incredible husband. And I am giddy to give grace, love, and joy right back. In five years, we have faced a lot of life, beautiful life, heartbreaking life. We choose each other, everyday, even when it would be easier not to. I am giddy as I have watched Momma and Zach gain respect and love for one another over the past 7 months. When Zach was here last, Momma said, “I love you, Zach.” Zach said, “I love you, too.” I can still see Zach leaning up against the doorframe of Momma's bedroom, Momma reaching her hands out to him. The two strongest, most stubborn, most incredible people in my life love one another. Zach has shown his love for Momma by breathing life back into the cabin and ensuring that her baby girl's wildest dreams don't stay just as dreams. I am giddy. I am lost. I had to ask my nephew, “What’s it like to lose your momma?” “Tata (family nickname), I am lost.” Jennie passed away nearly five (ten) years ago, yet he still, at times, feels lost. Jennie is now a grandma, as sweet Joey welcomed Haisley last month. For us all, feeling lost is what most people find when death gets settled in. A loss for words, a loss of time, a loss of appetite, a loss of patience, a loss of joy, a loss of understanding, a loss of a loved one. When you walk alongside death, you walk hand-in-hand into darkness, confusion, anger, and, for me, anxiety. Death, without the presence of Life, consumes you. I am lost. I am found. God is life, our Saviour guaranteed that much. Life is present, God is here. As I walked down the aisle, hand-in-hand with my momma, being pushed by my father, being lead by the Spirit, I was found. I was made new. I was clothed in white (I was literally in a beautiful white dress), walking towards my joy, holding onto my laughter, letting go of my anger, setting aside my heartache, and singing out, “Your GLORY God is what our hearts long for, to be overcome by your presence.” I am found. I am broken, hurting, banged-up, and bruised but I am found and I am free. I am still found, I am still free.
1 Comment
Pam Christopherson
3/11/2022 02:12:40 pm
I love you, Loretta! I know for a fact your Momma is so proud of you and Molly, and she is watching over all of you with her giant smile.
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