Farewell Mom, Love You Forever

My mom and I often had sacred conversations. Sitting at the dinner table, riding in the car, walking around our neighborhood, on the phone during a commute to work, shopping at the mall, or really any place and time where the mood struck us, we would dive into the mysteries of life and faith. I honestly cannot count the number of times my husband Randy has asked me after I got off the phone with my mom, “What were y’all talking about for so long? Didn’t you talk to your mom earlier today?” My most frequent response being, “Yes, I know honey, you know it’s my mom.” These hours spent talking together are what I will miss the most.

In the passage that Bobbie just read to us (John 14:1-9), we encounter a sacred conversation. Jesus and his disciples are having their last supper together before he will be taken by the authorities and crucified. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says. The words that follow are meant to comfort, to reassure and to encourage the hearts of the disciples. But do they? Do they comfort us?

In my youth, my mom witnessed me frequently struggle with these words of Jesus. I did not grasp what He was trying to convey to his beloved friends. For years I wrestled with Jesus’ proclamation, “I am the way, the truth, the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me.” For many years these words seemed to be exclusionary to me. Too often, these words are removed from their context. In the following verses in John chapter 14, the conversation between Jesus and his disciples continues. Philip asks Jesus to show them the Father so that they may believe that what he is saying to them is true – that when Jesus is crucified and buried, they will not be left alone. They will not have wasted their time following him around Judea proclaiming that God’s Messiah had indeed come into the world. Jesus’ friends were terrified of what was about to come. They wanted assurance. In the face of Jesus’ impending death, they wanted certainty. Certainty that God was real. Certainty that they would know the way to God after Jesus’ death. Certainty that God would establish His kingdom on earth.

What did the disciples get?
A Relationship.
No roadmap. No avoidance of death. But rather, an outstretched hand.

I am the way. I am the truth. I am the life…I am in the Father, and the Father is in me. Do you not yet know me, Philip? Even after we have walked together, eaten together, healed people together, threatened the powerful together, fed the hungry together…Do you still not understand who I am Philip? God is in me, and I am in God, and we are one. Philip, if you are in relationship with me, you are in relationship with God. You will have a place where I am going when I go to the Father in Heaven. Of course you will, be comforted friend. Take heart, you have been with me all this time. I will not leave you alone in this world or in the world to come.

Madeline Engle writes in her poem “Epiphany:”

“Unclench your fists
Hold out your hands.
Take mine.
Let us hold each other.
Thus is his Glory.
Manifest.”

Here Philip – take my hand. You have Me, you have ME and that is all you need.

The first time I preached on this passage in seminary, I couldn’t wait to share my sermon with my mom. I felt victorious. I felt elated. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could finally preach these words as good news. Relationship is what God offers us in Christ. An invitation to participate in the wild, radical, life-altering LOVE of God. It is a love that goes beyond our wildest imaginations. It is a love that conquers death and brings new life. It is a love that remakes us over, and over, and over again. It is a love that makes all things new. It is a love that is fundamentally inclusive and invites everyone to the dinner table.

Nearly every time my mom would have more than a five-minute conversation with a doctor, nurse, or CNA in the hospital she would ask, “Are you a believer?” Many times, the person would say yes, and she would respond, “Oh good, me too.” Dr. Chan, the head of the in-patient rehabilitation unit, however, told my mom that he was not a believer.

She looked at him and said, “Well I think you are. You are kind. You are loving. You care about me. You have fought for me to be admitted to this rehab unit. You might not think you believe in Jesus, but you do.” She said it with such certainty, such conviction. What she meant was…You took my hands; you have manifested the Glory of God.

And this is where we left our discussion about the truth of Jesus… that we are all invited to participate in Divinity, to participate in love. Christ is not only Jesus of Nazareth. Christ is everywhere that God breaks into our world. Christ is the outstretched hand of God. We participate in God’s work of salvation every time we stretch out our hands to one another. My mom found great comfort in Christ. I do as well, knowing that God continually and faithfully extends the invitation to conversation, to fellowship, to a life lived in love. Indeed, there is a place in our Father’s house for us. I have no doubt that my mother is living in one of the many mansions in Heaven. One day, we will see her again and we too will be home.

When I was little my mom would read me, a book entitled, Love You Forever.  It chronicles the story of a mother who takes care of her son as he grows up. Throughout the book she sings a refrain to her son in each stage of his life, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.” As the book closes, the son visits his aging, frail mother and when she can no longer sing the song to him, he picks her up and rocks her while singing, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my mommy you’ll be.” The final scene of the book is the young man entering his daughter’s nursery, rocking her, and singing his mother’s words.

My mom would often sing those words over me, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.” On my mom’s final day just a few hours before her last breath, I sang to her, “I’ll love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living my mommy you’ll be.”

Mom you will always be the one who carried me in your womb and gave me life. You will always be the one who loved me through my dark nights and my joyful days. You will always be the one who prayed over me for protection, for guidance, for wisdom, for joy and for peace. You will always be the one who could get me to share my innermost thoughts. Mom you will always be the one who laughed at my jokes. You will always be the one who edited hundreds of my papers, helping me to become a writer. You will always be the one who shared your mistakes with me so that I might make different ones. You will always be the one who encouraged me as a new mom, struggling to become a mother. Mom you will always be my favorite person to talk on the phone, and I will miss our sacred conversations. My mother you will always be.

Today, I invite you to unclench your fists, to hold out your hands, to take mine, let us hold each other -may God’s glory be made manifest in us. Amen.

(My eulogy for my mom, Mary Ann Sanguinetti, who passed from this life on February, 16, 2024)