My Personal Universe - What My Mom Did For Me

Okay, you may not want to read this one. It's not really interesting, but I had to write it, and it's about my own universe and not a comic book or game universe, but the real world.
September 22 was 2 years since my mom was buried. Apparently, I've been so busy at work that I didn't even realize that I didn't even realize why I had been kind of depressed this week. It was actually something the pastor giving the sermon in my church today said that made me realize it. Does this mean that I didn't love my mom because I can't remember the day she died or the day I buried her without something triggering the memory; definitely not. It just means that I trust in God and through my faith, I know that she is in the place we should all be longing to be and definitely in the place I know I will be one day.
This time is actually special to me because I was an idiot for a very long time. I was somewhat raised in a church, and as soon as I was outside of my hometown, I quickly strayed from God and my faith in Him. Not that I wasn't already on the wrong path in my heart, just that it came out pretty quickly once I was away from the church where the last years of my growing up took place.
In my life, I've done some pretty messed up stuff. I've lied to good friends at times to try and convince them to have sympathy for me for something I didn't need sympathy for. I've stolen things that I didn't need to steal and definitely didn't need to survive. I've forgotten about people and just lived my life for me for a very long time, and that includes having forgotten about most of my family except for my mom and step-dad (who is more of a father to me than my real father ever was).
It took a lot of horrible things in my life for me to find my way back to God and my faith. Most of all, it took a mom who loved and cared about me to remind me what I had lost after she had found her way back to God again.
My mom was sick for a long time before she died. When she first got sick, the doctors told her she probably only had about 6 months if she didn't have a lung transplant. Her insurance didn't and wouldn't cover the transplant, so she kept going on her own. A friend of hers invited her to her church, and she went one day. This was a pentecostal church; we had been baptists for my whole life as far as I know. She clung to God fairly quickly after going to this church from what I know of it. All I know is that at some point in time when I was going through some very dark days and talking to my mom pretty regularly, one of the things she told me was I needed to go to church. I didn't listen at first, but I kept talking to my mom. Over the course of the next year and a half, my mom kept talking to me about the problems I was going through. We rarely talked about how sick she realy was; if you ever knew my mom you'd understand. She was a strong Cajun woman who didn't anyone know how much she was hurting; she would just keep going no matter what for her family, her friends, her job, whatever. My mom had a rough life, but it never showed in her attitude towards others.
Anyway, my mom eventually talked to her pastor's wife and got a phone number for the pastor of a church where I live and gave it to me. I didn't go or call for months after she gave it to me. Then I went to visit her the week after Easter the year she died; I went to church with my mom and dad the Sundays and Wednesday that I was there. I was just kind of present in those services. I sung when they sang, I prayed when they prayed, but I didn't come to the realization of what I was doing yet. God was there though, and he didn't let go once I showed up in His house again.
I went home from that visit and it took me two weeks to make it to the church. The first week I tried to go without calling the pastor, but they had moved, and I didn't know where to go. They were a home missions church, so they were renting space and it wasn't like they could leave a forwarding address for me. I called the pastor that week and he gave me directions to where they were located and I made it the next Sunday. I've been going to my church every Sunday almost without fail ever since; I've missed a few days for migraines and even now I ignore those and go anyway and I've been out of town for a few services, but I still worship even on those days.
I visited my mom again on Labor Day weekend of 2009. My mom was really sick by this time, although I don't think I realized how bad it was. I guess I should have known when she didn't go to church with me that Sunday night while I was visiting. I received the baptism of the Holy Ghost on that Sunday evening. My mom wasn't there, but she knew long before I got back to her house that night. I went home and about two weeks later on September 18, my mom died from her COPD. My sister called me Thursday night before while I was at a Bible study with my pastor to tell me my mom had gotten worse and the nurse said she might wake up in the morning, and she might pass away while she slept. My mom never really woke up after that. Friday morning she was still alive when every one woke up, but she passed on shortly after that. My sister called me that morning to tell me while I was in the shower getting ready for work. I got a message to call her when I got out of the shower. I knew what she was going to tell me, but it still didn't prepare me for when she told me. I went home for the funeral and we buried her on a Tuesday; the day kind of went back and forth between the sun and rain. They say that God cries at the passing of his saints, and although I know rain is just rain, I'm sure God cried when my mom died even though she was with Him shortly after. It meant that her work for Him here was done and others would have to shoulder her share of the load now.
I think in a lot of ways, my mom held on to life to see at least one of her children return to God's arms. She knew I had. My sister actually got baptised in the Holy Ghost the Sunday after my mom died, but she I'm not sure she's made the commitment necessary yet. I still struggle every day with doing the things God wants me to do and what is pleasing to God, but I know He helps me with it every day and I grow more in my faith and love for God each day. Each day is new and even on the worst days, I still know I have God's love and He will always be with me no matter what.
Thank you, Mom. Your love guided me back to God's love and for that I will always be grateful. On top of that though, you loved me with all your heart all your life and never gave up on me no matter what mistakes I made. I miss you and look forward to seeing you again one day.