Kisses for Bobbie: A story of a Daughter's Love

I wanted my mom to love and cherish me. To teach me how to dress, wear makeup, choose friends, show hospitality, and find a mate. To hold me when the world was harsh, to comfort me when my dreams were shattered, to listen with rapt attention to my ideas and prattle.  To be proud of me for starring in the school play, to slip me notes in my lunch.  To crawl in bed with me and giggle, tell me stories, hold me tight, and kiss my eyes closed. She never did.

It was difficult for mom to raise five children.  Kind words, encouragement, and praise were seldom spoken. Disparaging remarks and criticism were more the norm.  Mom scared me; I never felt emotionally safe with her.  Most of my childhood was spent flying under the radar, avoiding the fray.  As I grew older, my wounds became the breeding ground for resentment and bitterness.  By the time I left home, I wanted to walk away and never look back. 

But God.

God taught me a better way;  the way of love.  Mercifully, He would not let me walk away. He would not let bitterness and resentment define me. It took years of messy work to uproot those enemies. He helped me see the deep pain in my mother’s soul that prevented her from receiving and expressing love.  She was gripped with fear and anxiety and inner sufferings of her own.  God graced my heart with compassion and forgiveness.  He helped me to let go of my expectations and to treat mom with respect and dignity.  But He didn’t stop there. He taught me to love her in the ways I longed to be loved.

Long story short, when mom was no longer able to live independently, the Preacher and I took up residence with her.  For years we watched both her mind and body decay.  She was utterly dependent on us for every need.

Not only did she need us to watch over her, but mom’s body needed attention. Touching my mom was uncharted territory; the thought of it made my stomach queasy.  Don’t get me wrong, I love touch; it’s one of my love languages.  But touching my mom?  That was a different story.  There was no familiarity and no emotional connection; caring for her body took me to a whole other level.  I had to cut her nails, clean her nose, irrigate her ears, wash her hair, change her diaper, bandage her wounds and do all manner of stuff too personal to write here.  Our loving Father used this experience to close the gap on love. I did all these things dutifully and kindly. 

Mom, aka"Bobbie"

But God. 

(There are those two words again). 

He spoke to me one day about mom.  “She’s my princess, my darling Bobbie.  Thank you for caring for her.  I love her so much and I can’t wait until she is here with me.  Until then Kinsey, let her know how much I love her. Be me with skin on.”   Whoa.  When He exposed His heart toward my mom I was floored.  I saw her in a new light; she was one of God’s greatest treasures.

God flipped a switch in me. The next day I went into her room with an awareness that I was entering sacred territory.  God’s princess was lying in the bed, His beloved “Bobbie.”   I bent down and smothered my mom’s face and neck with kisses.  That day my touch went from holy duty to holy relating.  The healing in my soul was complete.  Praise God.

Since then, I’ve lost count of the kisses and tender touches I’ve given mom.  But it wasn’t me, it was the God of the universe loving on His princess.  I was just the vessel.

In my life I’ve made a lot of mistakes, wounded many people, and failed to love.  But there is this one little place in my soul – where love won out. And if I don’t get anything else right I can revel in the transformation of my heart towards my mother.

Mom went to Jesus a few days ago.  I had one hand on her head, brushing back her hair, and one hand over her chest feeling it rise and fall.  Her breath became shallower and shallower, the rise and fall became barely noticeable.  Then it stopped. She left this earth while I was touching her and entered into heaven where Jesus was waiting with “Kisses for Bobbie.”

Mother's Day 2016

When I die don’t cry for me

In my Father’s arms I’ll be

The wounds this world left on my soul

Will all be healed and I’ll be whole.

It don’t matter where they bury me

I’ll be home and I’ll be free

It don’t matter where I lay

All my tears be washed away.

All My Tears” Selah

I love  you Mom!  I can hardly wait for us to look in each other's eyes and love deeply, purely, and completely from a place of perfect holiness.

Postlude:

Mom did love us; she just didn’t know how to express it.  We have found some of her prayer journals in which she desperately sought God’s transformation of her tongue and heart. She matured into a very generous woman who sponsored countless orphans through Compassion international, and other good works for God.  Additionally, she was a gracious and loving MeeMaw to her grandchildren.

Broken people can be used by God.  In fact, it’s the only kind of people He uses!  Like me, Mom got it right in some areas, and not so good in others.  It seems contradictory, but that’s how it is when God is in the process of cleaning up our messy hearts and lives.  Some things won’t be fixed until glory.  Until then, we need to give each other’s imperfections wide berth.  God is transforming us all in His own time and way.  One day we will all live in holy love.

©Kinsey Oglesby, Soul Care Coach, Writer, Speaker

Kinsey@coachkinsey.com,