Loss of Identity - Year 3

We're coming up on the third anniversary, and I promised myself I would not dwell on it this year. I am going to limit it to two posts, this being the first.

But it's hard not to remember those last few weeks. The visits to see Rachel up at Phyllis's home. How unsuspecting we were that we were close to our final goodbyes.

It's even harder this year, it seems, because I've finally decided on a new church. I've been in my new neighborhood for almost a year, and at a job I love for almost two. All without the identity I carried so proudly for almost 29 years.

Rachel's mom.

Oh, I know I still am, and always will be. But these new folks will never know her or much about her. For them, I will never be "Rachel's mom." And with the church, especially, it's shaky territory.

You see, Rachel was a huge reason I joined Pennington UMC in Nashville and remained there for 24 years. After my divorce, I visited a lot of churches. First I would visit; then I'd take Rachel. The final decision rested not only on how I felt or was received but how she was. From the very first moment we walked through the door at Pennington, folks were all over her. Talking TO her, which was also vital. They embraced us totally. Even after Rachel moved in with Phyllis in another town, the folks at Pennington asked about her, followed what was going on with her. Pennington's pastor, Bud Alexander, even drove up to the hospital to be with us during that last night.

Now, visiting churches in the Birmingham area, I had lost both my identity and my touchstone. No Miss Rachel to bring out the best--or worst--in folks. 

It's a horrific adjustment, but one I have to make. God's walking with me through, one step at a time.

I love this shot of Mother and Rachel. I can't see Mother's face, but I know exactly what's going on. Mother had a gap between her two front teeth, and she could push air behind her upper lip, brace her tongue against that gap, then force the air through in a way that made a delightful, rhythmic squeaky sound that absolutely transfixed animals and small children. I've never heard anything like it, and neither had they. It made Rachel giggle wildly.

I've been going through a lot of pictures lately, which my brother and I inherited from my mother. Some folks I don't know. Others I barely did. A lot of them are gone now, as are Mother and Rachel. At a time when the ubiquitous cameras in our lives take a lot of criticism, I just have one thought about that...some day, the pictures will be all that's left. So take 'em while you got 'em.