My mother died of cancer when I was 16 years old.
Up until then, our family had lived in New England, with the exception of my father, who left us all when I was 5 years old.
My mom had to be gone a lot over the years, eking out a living for my two older brothers and I, working odd jobs. Consequently, I don’t feel I like I knew her well. She was always there, in my peripheral, but we weren’t close.
I realize now how little I appreciated the sacrifices she made for us. I was selfish, lazy and entitled. I was too young to really miss my father. He wasn’t around much even before He left us, so I wasn’t conscious of his ‘absence’. But in hindsight I think the lack of parental authority and accountability played a big part in why I had so little consideration for others, especially my mom.
It wasn’t until recently that I became truly conscious of how hard things must have been for her.
My father and mother had ‘hit-the-big-time’ in Hollywood and Broadway back in the 50’s and 60’s. They were both accomplished dancers with MGM studios. My father especially made a name for himself, dancing with the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland and other superstars of that era. Looking at photos from that time, they clearly were ‘living the dream’.
But my father’s ambitions got the best of him. Disillusioned with the commercialism of the film industry, he left our family, and the country too, to pursue his dream of becoming a famous Jazz dance legend in Europe. He accomplished his goal eventually, but it came at the expense of his wife, kids, integrity and honor.
What remained of my mother’s career ended instantly at that point. Abandoned, humiliated and left to raise three young boys on her own, her glory days ended in a spectacular fall into middle-class obscurity.
I’m convinced that the weight of it all was a major contributor to the cancer diagnosis she received only eight years later. She lost her battle valiantly at the age of 56, and was buried in Worchester, Massachusetts.
It’s been 41 years since I stood by her grave at her funeral.
After my mom died in 1981, I moved to California, where my life descended into a blur of drug abuse and dereliction that ended roughly 8 years later, with me in Los Angeles County jail on various charges. It was there that I became sober enough and scared enough to see that I needed real change in my life if I were ever to escape the chains of addiction. But where to find it? I had tried countless times to change. I had been to drug rehabs, self-help programs and even experimented with the occult. But each time I would fall back again into the same pit of despair, and every failure led to greater shame and deeper sense of hopelessness.
As I sat there in jail, anxiously waiting for the courts to decide my fate, I finally turned in desperation to the Bible for answers. You may wonder, why the Bible? The short answer is, because of my mother.
While I can say without exaggeration that my memories of my mom are few, the one most consistent memory I have is that she always managed to get me to church on Sundays. I’m certain my mom believed she was a failure. After all, she had a failed marriage, failed career, and she probably thought she was a failed parent. But no matter how busy her schedule was, regardless of everything else going on in our lives, she managed to faithfully sow the seeds of faith into my life.
My mom was far from perfect, but she kept pointing me to the One who is; Jesus Christ. Those seeds finally broke ground in the darkest time of my life.
I gave my life to Christ in that jail cell 31 years ago. He saved and changed me so profoundly and completely that I’m still telling anyone who will listen about His love and grace.
Today, May 21st, 41 years later, I finally made my way back to New England, along with my brothers, and we found her grave. It is marked by a single stone in the ground with her maiden name and a simple cross on it.
To me it embodies everything I’ve come to understand about her. The legacy she left us was not one of fame, fortune or even a lifetime of memories together, but of faith in Jesus Christ. My mom couldn’t leave us much in terms of a physical inheritance, but she left me an eternal one that Jesus promises to all those who would put their trust in Him.
The Bible reads in 1 Corinthians 15:54-57, “Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:
“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
In the end, it turns out my mom gave me everything I would need in life; faith in Christ Jesus. And now, because of that faith, I know we will meet again in heaven, and we will know each other better, and longer, than we ever could in this lifetime.
By Pastor Tim Mattox
Paphos Calvary Chapel
www.calvarycyprus.com
