Leaning – Part 3 of 3

Leaning part 1 and leaning part 2 were published earlier. There is no particular need to stay in order with these, I just wrote them as I thought of them.

Years ago I was reading the credits and “thank yous” inside of a cassette cover. The artist sent out a big thank you to a list of names because they had, as she put it, “kept me from leaning.”

I read that and realized her poetic way of thanking people for their support, but it sat wrong in my spirit that anyone should be “kept” from leaning. The words to the old hymn “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” came to mind and I questioned my own interpretation of standing and leaning a bit.

At that time I had not experienced the great joy of falling in love and marrying my husband, or the deep loss of losing my mom. I held onto those thoughts about leaning, but I didn’t have a perspective as broad as I do many years later. I don’t want to discourage anyone from leaning on people by what I have to say next. My previous two posts on the subject should clarify that. I do want to express though, that leaning on Jesus is our greatest hope for stability in life.

“I don’t know how to do this?”

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost my mom.”

Both of these quotes are from daughters, the first one from a woman who recently lost her mother and the second from a young woman who was commenting to me right after I had lost my mom. Both of these statements are fully understandable and I don’t want to in any way say that they are wrong for how they feel. That’s not my job or my place, but I want to give a little shout out to my mom here for the way she taught me to lean.

My mom was a strong and capable woman, full of talent, ability and wisdom. She was someone many people learned to lean on and in whom many people beyond her family found shelter. Her greatest gift to us as her children was not just in providing a place of comfort and stability, but also in her relentless pursuit of teaching us how to lean.

When I came to her with my sorrows big or small, she rarely told me how I should handle my situation. She typically commented on the situation as an opportunity to show love, forgiveness, strength and joy and then she would encourage me to pray. As a small child she prayed for me, as I grew she prayed with me, later she began to usher me to my own space and encouraged me to seek God’s presence on my own. Sometimes her advice was nothing more than, “Have you prayed about it?” Sometimes her encouragement was a smile or even a smirk, followed later with a Scripture she had either written down on a card or looked up for me and handed me as a reference for my perusal. Rarely did I ever hear her say anything like, “Here’s what I would do.” I don’t remember much about how she “felt” about my hurts or anxieties. I never remember her pulling me toward her, physically or figuratively, for a time of “letting it all out,” “venting” or “a good cry.” She let me know that feeling bad is part of life. It’s even okay to cry about it a little, but it’s never okay to let it rob you of God’s plan for you. If I complained, whined or otherwise wouldn’t let something go, she would quietly, but sternly point me to my room and “suggest” I get on my knees for a little while. She knew what was there. She knew that I wouldn’t be happy because she communicated her understanding and pity for me, she knew that my joy would return when I knew that God understood and had a plan for me.

When my mother died, nearly 10 years ago, I missed her. I wanted to be able to call, to talk, to make her laugh, to hear what goes on at home, all of those things. I wanted her help with recipes, her advice for homemaking and I especially wanted her when I had my babies. To see her holding them, enjoying them and bragging on them. What I have not missed…is her advice in areas of my relationships, child rearing and marriage. I already know exactly what she would say if I have a question or a quandary. “Have you prayed about it?”

Her wisdom was shown first in her example as a wife and mother, and secondly in her refusal to share that wisdom through her own lens. She offered us the best advice a parent can give. Pray about it, stay in the Word and love other people enough to resolve conflicts first on your knees and then with your voice.

I struggled to say what I felt on paper or otherwise right after she died, but in thinking of her as the months passed I remembered my earlier conflict with the idea of being kept from leaning and wrote these words as a tribute to her.

Josie’s Song

“You are the called and the chosen
No longer bound by your fear
Stand with your head high the world at your feet
But don’t forget to lean.

Speak with a stronger conviction
Know how to answer each man
Look back to see that your words have not fallen
But don’t forget to lean

Grow up in wisdom and stature
Never forget who you are
Children of Kings do not fear for tomorrow
But don’t forget to lean.

When my voice is no longer your teacher
When you can no longer stand on your own
You will find He is waiting to catch you
In His ever lasting arms
You can always lean on His arms

Live a life more abundant
May the joy of the Lord be your strength
Go in the grace and the
Peace He has given
And don’t forget to lean”

She taught us to look at ourselves through the lens of Scripture. We knew she loved us, but there are very few mom’s who don’t love their children. It’s nearly as innate as breathing. Yet, that in itself is not enough to keep people from ruining their very loved lives. Knowing we are loved by the God who created us, understanding that His love has no limits and realizing that He cares about every detail of our lives…that is difference making love.

He brought the peace I needed swiftly and easily, because I had never gone to anyone else for that peace.

“I don’t know how to do this?”

When that was whispered tearfully to me from my friend about living without her dear mother. I felt for her. I cried with her and I held her for a little bit. Then I looked at her, a Christian, and I said “You have everything you need within you to walk step by step, one day at a time as you deal with this.” I told her that her mom was special and that she would miss her and that it would hurt, but that the God who will never leave her or forsake her would be everything she needs for the rest of her life. She asked me how I got through it and I told her, “I struggled, I cried, I got angry and I got scared, but I never let a day go by that I didn’t thank God for what my mother had taught me, and prayed for His comfort, His understanding and His ability to walk day by day.”

The truth is, He brought the peace I needed swiftly and easily, because I never had gone to my mother or anyone else for that peace. I thank God for my mom, not because she made me feel good, but because she taught me Who would make me feel good.

Yes, I leaned on her, but all through my childhood and youth she was nudging me, pushing me, not to stand on my own, but to lean in the right direction.

“What have I to fear? What have I to dread? Leaning on the everlasting arms.
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near, leaning on the everlasting arms.” ~ Elisha A. Hoffman