Tuesday, September 23, 2014

She Didn't Even Write

My eldest, mentally disabled, brother wrote me an actual paper letter where he said how much he misses me. He also wrote to express his love and of course, to ask for a present. He is fifty-seven years old, but at the mental age of a nine year old-he's really cute. He is able to read and write, but not able to address an envelope, stamp it and send it out to me, and this is where, "she" comes in. As I spied the envelope again, I noticed that the hand that wrote my name and address was not of my brothers, but my mother's.

My mother wrote my name.
Did she take a moment when she heard him say, "I want to write a letter to Ellie" and sigh?
Did she tear up when she wrote out my name and realized that she hasn't seen me in eight years?
I don't think so.

Did she think, "Maybe I'll slip in a note to Ellie in his envelope to her."

I have to think, not.

She had a chance.
A secret chance to write to me.
No one had to know. Not even my brother.
As she sealed his letter into the package, she could have passed along a note too.

She didn't.

How does a mother do that?
How does a mother forget her own child?
How does she loose all hope of being reconciled?
How does a mother write out an envelope to her lost daughter and not even write a note on the envelope itself and say, "I miss you." or "Love you too, Mom."

I have no idea.

My mother has forgotten me, again.
How many times does it have to happen before the hurt stops?
I give you my mom.
I pray that you will fill her with your love to overflowing and heal her heart.
Bless my mom, Lord.
Let her know, I still love her.


  1. Praying prayers of comfort and standing with you. The pain must go so deep and feel so fresh right now. I'm sorry that you are going through this. Prayers and more prayers and I'll have a big hug for you on Sunday morning.