she made me a home anyways

My mother and Molly Weasley have many resemblances.

They're both incredibly loving.

They adopt the role of "mother" for the motherless.

They humbly pour their wisdom into those around them.

They are often picked on, in a loving way of course, by their children.

They retaliate swiftly and surely, also in a loving way, of course.

They are encouraging beyond measure.

And they are undeniably fierce.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which I saw recently rewritten jokingly for accuracy in title: Harry Potter and the Holy S**t  We Were Not Emotionally Prepared for This, Mrs. Weasley  ferociously defends her daughter, Ginny, from the unbelievably evil Bellatrix Lestrange.

In this iconic scene, Bellatrix is about to murder Ginny when Mrs.Weasley steps in between them and orders Bellatrix by saying, "Not my daughter, you b***h."

Don't mess.

Don't mess with Molly Weasley and definitely don't mess with Jennifer Stelle.

___

Scrolling through Instagram the other day I saw this funny post that said

"When people try to come back into my life after doing me wrong... Sorry I can't cause I already told my mom what you did."

So true.

One of my good friends, Chris, calls my mom "Mamma Bear".

Where did that come from? I don't know. But it's a thing, I promise.

___

My mother is strong.

She is strong in the way that she protects the family, but she is also strong in the way that she cares for the family.

She is so observant and thoughtful in the way she interacts.

She remembers the little things, the important and the not so important.

She remembers them and reminds you of them when needed.

The other day I called her and we were talking about my unpreparedness for the winter. A few days later I received a package in the mail with a pair of pants in it, just because pants are something needed in the cold. 

She loves deeply.

I would confidently say that every one of my friends who have met my mother have wound up in incredibly deep conversation with her within minutes of talking without even realizing transition made from talking about the weather to the pain they're feeling regarding their parents' divorce, their struggles in school, their faith crisis or their overwhelming relationship with the future.

She notices you and she re-members you.

She helps pull you together and place you into a family, my family.

___

She is my advocate and she shows me the Kingdom.

This last Tuesday I sat down for my weekly coffee date with Pastor Judy where we're working through naming what I'm mourning. It's a painful, yet necessary, process.

Once it has been named it can be appropriately grieved.

Last week we talked about one of, if not my greatest loss:

the loss of a space that is known by me and equally knows me.

A space that when entered contains a wealth of memory that is all consuming; a space where you can experience the temperature of specific moments, smell the air that was breathed during significant conversation, feel the ground that held you while you cried, be surrounded by trees and walls that laughed with you during times of joy and be embraced by the environment that grew you.

By all accounts, that space is no more. Whether that space was the couch by the fireplace in my parents' house in the harbor, the lawn chair on the deck, the ski bench precariously hanging from the tree on the cliff or the sand dollar-filled beach at Bill and Joelene's; those spaces are no more.

There is nowhere that remembers me, and the places that I remember are no longer mine.

___

The transition for my family from Gig Harbor to Rocklin was anything but smooth.

My dad moved down in October to begin pastoring Community Covenant Church while my mom stayed in the Harbor for months trying to sell the house.

My family was spread across the continent with Christmas on the horizon, homeless.

We couch surfed together for a small while, it was not pleasant.

I remember one day the four of us driving, driving to nowhere. We had no place to go and no place to which we could return. We explored together, but the exploration was tainted by a deep seeded pain of knownlessness.

A few months later my parents home in the Harbor was sold and a house in Rocklin was purchased.

A wonderful house was purchased, but it was yet a home.

My mother made it a home.

My mother made it a home for me with great intentionality.

___

I remember getting a text shortly after they moved into the house with a picture of my empty room.
It said something along the lines of 

"Kayla, this is your room. It's white. I know you hate white. Can I paint it for you?"

Yeah mom, you can paint it for me.

A few weeks later I received another message

"Kayla, I found a comforter, it matches the walls. Can I buy it for you so you have something to curl up under when you get home?"

Yeah mom, you can buy it for me.

Later another message came

"Kayla, I found a great bed frame. It matches the walls and the comforter. It has space for you to put boxes under so you can hide what you don't want to show. Also, I bought boxes for you."

Thanks mom.

The messages kept coming

"Kayla, next to the closet there's a great space for shelves. Can I buy you shelves so that you can display the new you on them when you come back? Can I buy those for you and put them up?"

Yeah mom, you can buy them and put them up.

"Kayla, I have an extra bookshelf and when I was unpacking I noticed that you have a ton of books. Can I give you my bookshelf so that you can store your books well?"

Yeah mom, thanks for sharing.

___

When I came to that house, I had a room.

Truthfully, I didn't really want a room. This was not my home. I didn't want to put in the emotional effort to make another home. I was done.

She made me a home anyways.

She took me to this awesome home decorations warehouse type shop and let me pick out frames, lamps, art...

She walked along side of me and supported me as I added to the room.

She helped me move into the space.

She helped me create.

She showed me a tiny piece of the Kingdom.

___

Is that not a beautiful picture?

God making me a home?

"Kayla, I have a room for you. It's white. I know you don't like white. Can I paint it for you?"

"Kayla, I found a comforter. It matches the walls. Can I buy it for you so you have a cozy place to curl up and just be?"

"Kayla, I found a bed frame. It's perfect. It has space under it so that you can store the things your not ready to re-member. Oh, I also bought you boxes."

"Kayla, there's a wall that's perfect for shelves. Can I put shelves up for you so that you can display the things that make you distinctively Kayla?"

"Kayla, I was going through my own stuff and I found a bookshelf that would be perfect in your room. I know how much you love to read. Can I share this with you?"

How wonderful is that?

God is making me a room.

It's perfect because He knows me so well.

The color is the exact right burnt orange, the comforter has the ideal fluffiness, the frames have pictures in them that show the most beautiful moments that I have experienced and the ones that I have yet to experience but that are to come, the boxes under the bed and in the closet contain my pains that will maybe one day be in a frame once they have been properly grieved and claimed, the chair in the corner is the most comfortable chair in existence and will hug me intimately as I curl up to read, the air is clean and will contain the feeling of knowness and with every breath I will be increasingly embraced and homed. 

God is making me a room.

A real room.

A room that knows me and is known by me.

A room that contains all my loves, pains, laughs, cries, crazies and mellows...

A room in which I can be.

Be with myself.

Be with others,

Be with God.

Be.

It is real.

It will be home.

I'm moving there.

I'm actually super excited.

"On Earth as it is in Heaven"

But it is a process.

Already-Not Yet.

But there I will find rest in the arms of the Almighty who also happens to be a lot like my mom.

Or rather, my mom is a lot like Him.

___

Mom, you show me the motherlyness of the Father,
the warm embrace only matched by its fierceness and might.

"As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."

Isaiah 66:13