Today I wear black.

I never really understood the wearing of this for death, yet this morning, as I stood before my wardrobe Abba said “Black.” 

You see, yesterday my mama died. 

I wear it for her, I do so out of respect. No matter what part she played in my abuse, I am called to honor and respect her. I wasn’t sure how I felt at first, nothing for the most part of the day, empty. Then I saw a picture of her someone posted, saw how old she had become, felt for her… Christ love in me the source of that. 

Then I cried. Silent tears running rivulets down my cheeks. Ones the left trails of what could have been. Not just for me but for her also, for us. The bond that never was formed, the memories not created, the family link never forged. I cried for all things lost, mama too.

Thing is, I know it’s ok.

Here is what Papa, God is helping me to understand. 

I spent my childhood striving to be the perfect little girl. Always obedient, quick to respond, forgive every act visited upon me. I did this hoping, childishly hoping, she would love me then, for I sure loved her despite all endured.

Then I became a women, I married, had children and so desired to have my mother a part of my life, surely if I am the one who is always there and goes out of my way for her she will love my children if not me. I loved her still even when that was returned void unto me.

Once I found my past, my childhood abuse, how for a while I didn’t love her. I was angry and torn, my heart to scream out, “Why, Mama, why didn’t you love me, I was but a babe?” How I wondered where forgiveness was, I sure couldn’t grasp finding it.

I didn’t either.

It found me.

Rather, Christ’s love found me to flow through me, that I could forgive.

First came the act of obedience, days to turn to weeks and weeks to months, ones that I spent with Abba, letting Him know I forgave them and left the feeling to Him. One day, so suddenly it seemed, it was there. I visited my Mama in the hospital I told her I forgave her, I loved her, and she told me how sorry she was. We cried together, hugged. The Lord held me back from bringing up the past with her, she was in enough of her own torment then. I left my cherished Bible with her, forgiveness letter inside, as I left. 

Eventually, she came home. I to hear from her that she had to choose and I wasn’t the choice, as she bid me a final goodbye.

So now, she is gone. And the biggest surprise of all to me, is I care. I don’t even think of the past endured, no I simply feel, “My Mama, she is dead.” 

I cry all mentioned before yet I cry to for her, Abba is so blessing me with His presence today, the Holy Spirit gifting me with compassion and understanding. She too had a hard life, doesn’t make what happened right, but I to am a sinner saved by grace.

If I truly love my Father, God… 

If I truly am thankful to Christ for His sacrifice…

If I truly am open to the Spirit’s gifts…

And I am.


I can do no less than to pray for her, love her now, with all the passion and drive I had pursued her love with.

My Mama is dead, yet perhaps in His mercy, Abba will someday bring us together in Heaven.

Where God is love so love is right.


My Mama’s death is teaching me this,

I love her not for love lost,


I love her because love is of God, and I of Him.

“Goodnight,  Momma,

I love you so very, very much.

May you too, find God’s colors.”

Your daughter, Tammy 

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