Bonus Moms: First, there was Elizabeth

Writing about my family reunion makes me think of other "family" in my life, family that is not blood-relations but heart-relations.  As a woman who has been single for a lot of years (all of them, thus far), these family heart-ties have been crucial for my well-being.  I don't know how others get through life without them. Well, I guess there are coping mechanisms...unhealthy ones in many cases.  How good God is, that He designed us for relationships and that He can orchestrate the relationships we need at the times we really need them.  

My very first Bonus Mom was named Elizabeth Courvoisier.  She was an elegant southern belle...beautiful, charming, and full of love.  She was a St. Giles lady.  I had seen her at church and we had always smiled and said kind words to each other. But it was in my brokenness and weeping that she became my first Bonus Mom.  It was on a Sunday morning.  A very sad Sunday morning for me.  My first true love had married someone else the day before.  I was so distraught, I almost crashed the wedding.  Fortunately, for all of us, I had an appointment with my therapist that morning and she talked me out of it.  What a disaster that would have been!

So here I am, at church the morning after he married someone else.  And it is communion Sunday.  Now, communion Sunday at St. Giles was a celebration.  It was my favorite Sunday of the month.  As we would walk up to the altar to receive communion, we would greet each other and hug each other.  We would pray for each other.  And all the while, beautiful praise music would be played by the worship team.  So in-between singing and hugging and experiencing a sense of family, we would receive the symbols of the body and blood of Christ, who gave everything for us.  Each person served the person behind them in line.  It was a wonderful day in the life of our church family.

This particular Sunday, the Sunday after he married someone else...the focus of the morning was on marriage.  When it was time for communion, husbands and wives were invited to the table first.  They were invited based on the number of years that they had been married.  First it was couples married 25 years or more, then 20 years or more...you get the drill.  Before each couple served each other communion, they renewed their wedding vows.  Then there was a wedding song sung by the worship team.  Then they served each other.  

I have never experienced a more painful communion Sunday.  A safe haven for me had been transformed into a reminder of my deep pain and longing...a reminder of what I wanted so much but did not have.  This is not the way the Lord's table is supposed to be.  I know that.  But you know what, I also know the heart of the Pastor.  This Pastor's heart was for his people who were struggling in their marriages.  His heart was in the right place.  I do not agree with his decision, but I have grace for it.  I know him and love him. 

The wedding vows and the wedding songs seemed to go on and on.  By the time the last couple had served each other, it was well-past time for church to be over. The benediction was given due to the late hour.  Anyone who had not yet received communion was invited to come to the table after the benediction.  My heart was broken and I was angry.  I walked out of the church in my anger and headed to my car.  But I stopped as I heard God say to me,  "Where are you going, Janice? You've got nowhere else to go..."

So I forced my legs to walk back into that sanctuary, into that place that had seemingly, unwittingly, poured salt onto my gaping, open wounds that morning.  I walked up the aisle and I stood in line with the small group of widows, divorcees, and singles.  I felt that I was relegated to the crumbs of the Lord's table.  I could only weep.  And as I wept, I felt arms wrap around me.  They were a mother's arms.  They were Elizabeth's arms. 

That was the beginning of a long and precious friendship.  She became my Charlotte mother.  She not only loved me, she delighted in me.  We shared many meals together and lots of phone calls.  I would take her out for Mother's day and for her birthday.  I relished the stories of her life that she shared with me.  She listened to every detail of my life and always loved me without judgement.  She loved hearing about my dates and crushes.  She cheered me on.  But the best gifts she gave me were her prayers for me.  She had a stool beside her bed on which she knelt and prayed for me daily.  I believe it.  I felt it. 

St. Giles women's ministry started a program sometime after we met called "heart-to-heart," where the older women were encouraged to mentor the younger women in a one-on-one relationship.  We were a natural fit, and already had an established friendship when she became my heart-to-heart friend.   

Some years later, I was out of town on a business trip when I learned that Elizabeth had had a stroke.  It was a bad one.  She was never able to live in her townhome again.  She lived out the remainder of her days in nursing homes.  

Her townhome was a safe haven for me.  I had visited her and had meals with her there.  I was devastated to be losing her.  Very shortly after her stroke, there was an auction at her home.  I went.  I cried.  I stood in disbelief while I watched her belongings sold to the highest bidder.  My hoarding-self wanted to buy everything!  I was tormented...should I buy the dishes?  The clothes that I remember her wearing so elegantly?  Paintings that she had lovingly created?  Oh, so many choices.  I ended up buying a box of books and a few paintings.  In the box of books were two that I had loaned to her and one that I had given her as a gift, an Oswald Chambers devotional.  As I flipped through the pages, there was a yellow sticky note inside with the names of my aunt and uncle written on it.  I had asked her to pray for them.  She had written it down and had kept the paper in her devotional book.  I was reminded that she had heard me, she took my prayer requests seriously.  I was loved and valued by her.

And I realized, too, that I did not need to buy all of her things to have a piece of her in my life.  Her life was woven into mine.  Her love and prayers were now a part of me.  I would never be the same because of her.  What more did I need?  God provided Elizabeth for me in a time of brokenness and need.  And that is a reflection of His heart for me.  On the day after my first true love married someone else, I received the gift of a lifetime.  The gift of Elizabeth.  The gift I really needed.  

²⁵ “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? ²⁶ Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? ²⁷ Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life^[a]?

²⁸ “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. ²⁹ Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ³⁰ If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? ³¹ So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ³² For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.³³ But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Matthew 6:25-33  NIV