Prayers For Melissa

Day 5: Memorizing the Bible

I have a picture in my head of my sisters and I standing on the bricks in the living room singing various tunes. I’m standing at the end, clapping slightly offbeat, unsure of all the words as the rest of my sisters enthusiastically proclaim the song their mom made them memorize….

Love is Patient, Love is Kind! 👏👏 👏 👏 👏
It does not envy, it does not boast!👏👏 👏 👏
It is not proud, it is not rude!👏👏 👏 👏 👏
It is not self seeking!👏👏 👏 👏 👏
It is not easily 👏 angered!
It keeps no record of wrongs! 👏 👏
Love does not delight in evil! 👏
But rejoices with the truth! 👏👏 👏 👏 👏

👏👏 👏 👏 👏

It always protects! 👏 👏
Always trusts! 👏 👏
Always hopes! 👏 👏
Always perseveres!

(1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Day 6: “WOO!”

I sat in the stands by the swimming pool and watched as my older sister, Hannah, entered the water with the others. The race was about to begin! As the man with the microphone counted them off, the whole room went silent with anticipation. “Get Ready.” The swimmers grabbed hold of both sides of the pole. “Get Set.” Their bodies exited the water as they went into their ‘ready stance.’ BEEEEEEEEP. The buzzer blared, the swimmers splashed, and one previously calm and collected woman sitting next to me suddenly stood up and erupted into a cheer. Her shouts echoed off the walls of the arena. Her rambunctious cries could probably be heard by all the competitors. She raised her hand to her mouth to interrupt her constant, “WOOOOOOOOOO”‘s, almost like a culturally inaccurate American Indian. I’m sure she got stares, but honestly, I don’t think she cared. And that’s what I loved about her. This crazy woman in the stands was my Momma, who was incredibly proud of her race-winning, medal-receiving, record-breaking daughter, Hannah. And she chose to show that in the most unashamed, unabashed fashion possible…

This past weekend, I attended the annual St. Louis District All-Star Bible Quiz. As I was on and off the seats, these two memories came to mind. It occurred to me that Momma never knew what bible quizzing was; Tabitha discovered it in early 2011. Yet she still had the spirit of what it’s all about in her, and she instilled that love of studying the Bible in me long before I ever became a national level Bible quizzer. She made sure my sisters and I memorized the scripture, whether it be through songs she/we wrote ourselves, tunes taught at VBS, verses learned at BSF, or even dramatic interpretations of the Sermon on the Mount.

Momma also supported her daughters in everything they did. She was not only present, but she made herself known as the proud mother of her performing or competing girls. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like for her to attend all of my activities. Would she cheer in the chilly weather as my band marched out onto the football field, or watch intently and smile lovingly at me during my musicals, or be familiar with the countless chants my quiz teams create, or “WOO” me on when I got questions right? I can only imagine that she would do all these things with no inhibition and not a care in the world about how loud and boisterous and completely undignified she appeared to be.

-Sara Joy

Posted in Words from Sara

She told me to hold still. It would only be a little while longer. But I couldn’t take the pain a second more. I squealed and ran out of the bathroom down the hallway. But her long legs caught up to me in no time. She scolded me, took my arm, and half dragged me back to the bathroom to finish what she’d started. She unsheathed her hairbrush from the drawer like a weapon and proceeded to pull my baby hair back into a hairstyle we called a “bop.” I sat there in silence while reflex tears streamed down my face. 

Maybe this telling is a bit dramatic, but that’s really how I remember it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, but trust me, it did. And every time Momma did my hair like this, little tender-headed three-year-old me was NOT a happy camper. Honestly, I’ve never been much of a hair wiz, but then again, I don’t think my mom was either. But every once in a while, especially now that my sisters are moved out for a majority of the year, I wish I had an extra pair of eyes in the morning to assist me with outfits and hair and makeup or someone to help curl or straighten my hair on special occasions. Sometimes it’s the little things about not having a mom that get to me. But on the rare occasion that someone is doing my hair and pulls a little too hard, I can sometimes hear Momma telling me to put on a brave face and sit still like a big girl.

-Sara Joy

Posted in Words from Sara

In the schoolroom of my house, where my sisters and I used to do our work, six teacups sit all in a row on a shelf. Nowadays, they’re seldom used, but there was a time when the opposite was true. If my recollections are correct, Momma often had tea dates with each of her daughters. Every once in a while, when I’m dusting the smooth surfaces of the glass and brushing away the gathered particles, I’ll reminisce about the memory.

I remember that my cup was pink and floral and that it was the last in the row of dishes. I remember the brown, square table that was set up in the middle of the living room. I remember my wooden rocking chair that I dragged over to the table where my mother was waiting patiently for my arrival. Every date would start like this. One on one. Mother to daughter. We would sit and sip our tea, which in my eyes was much too bitter and was in desperate need of some sugar. We would talk about whatever came to mind. Being six and all, I doubt I said anything profound, but I imagine that she still listened wholeheartedly to my silly stories and childish adventures anyway. Beyond that, I don’t remember much else.

Maybe the setup was a bit silly, but the sentiment represented much more than that. It was a time for just the two of us, a periodic checkup that showed the intentionality of a loving parent who truly tried to connect with her children, and a simple gesture that signified a mother’s love for her daughters.

-Sara Joy

Posted in Words from Sara

🎶

THIS 👏 IS 👏 THE DAY 👏👏

THIS 👏 IS 👏 THE DAY 👏👏

THAT 👏 THE LORD👏 HAS 👏 MADE

THAT 👏 THE LORD👏 HAS 👏 MADE

WE 👏 WILL 👏 REJOICE 👏

WE 👏 WILL 👏 REJOICE 👏

AND 👏 BE GLAD 👏 IN 👏 IT

AND 👏 BE GLAD 👏 IN 👏 IT

THIS 👏 IS 👏 THE DAY 👏

THAT 👏 THE LORD 👏 HAS 👏 MADE 👏

WE 👏 WILL 👏 REJOICE 👏

AND 👏 BE GLAD 👏 IN 👏 IT

THIS 👏 IS 👏 THE DAY 👏👏

THIS 👏 IS 👏 THE DAY 👏👏

THAT THE LOOOORD 👏

HAAAAAS 👏

MAAAADE 👏

🎶

Almost every morning at 6am she would wake us up like this. The door would swing open, the switch would snap on, and the light would flood the room. No matter how groggy or crabby we were, she would shake us awake with such vigor and enthusiasm that by the end of her good morning songs we would be singing along with her. It’s one of the few memories I have of Momma where she is distinctly not as weak, pale, or frail as she was in the days leading up to her death, and for that reason, I cherish it dearly.

This morning I woke up pretty much expecting it to be a bad day. It’s the Monday after a five day break, the beginning of the final stretch of the semester, a time for last-minute cramming for quizzing, desperately attempting to raise grades, and feverishly studying for final exams. I could easily go throughout the whole day with a permanent frown on my face. But as I slumped around at the start of the day, Momma’s words rang in my ear, her radiant face to bright for me to ignore. I’ve forgotten the importance of starting my day right, with the joy of Jesus in my heart. The difference it makes in how I treat the rest of my day is immensely evident. So, for the next three weeks of school, I’ll start my morning with a song that reminds me of my crazy, singing, dancing, way-too-energized, morning-person mother. I’ll wake up, smell the coffee, choose joy, rise, shine, give God the glory, rejoice, and be glad because this is the day that the Lord has made.

-Sara Joy

Posted in Words from Sara

100 Days of Momma

I have lots of memories of my beloved Momma. Well, I don’t know if you could call most of them memories, per se. They’re more like moments frozen in time, vivid snapshots with no noticeable sound, or hyperspecific details that stick out among the blur for some odd, unknown reason. These pictures have always been in my head, yet there is no written account, no journal entry, and no recording. Rarely have I shared the memories with others. But as I reach the ten year anniversary of my dear mother’s death, however, I feel compelled to remember, reflect, and reevaluate what my six-year-old self remembers about the whole ordeal, both for myself and for those who choose to read and listen. So, as I embark on this 100-day (or so) journey of healing, I’d be honored if you’d join me.

God Bless,

Sara Joy

Day #1: S is for Star

There are a couple of reasons this particular memory comes to mind today. It’s the first day of Advent, which means the family Christmas traditions are in full swing. Yesterday, my boyfriend told me all about his family’s holiday season rituals. It brought a bittersweet smile to my face and took me back to a certain Espiritu family tradition that my Momma upheld amidst all that was going on around her.

Momma ignited and fueled her daughters’ love for reading. She always had new books for us to explore, and the Christmas season was no exception. Every year, she’d carefully wrap up a series of Christmas books. Some were classics; some were brand new additions to the collection. She’d label them 1-25, and each day of December leading up to Christmas, the sisters would tear through the paper to reveal the cover, open it up, and read it aloud.

I have a picture in my head of my sister, Priscilla and I opening up the first book of the 2009 Christmas season while outside a hospital room. The other sisters must have been at school. Momma told Priscilla to read the book to me while we waited patiently for her and Dad to be done. We tore away the festive wrapping and began to read: S Is For Star.

Looking back on this memory ten years later, it occurs to me that while this was happening, my parents were most likely receiving the worst news of their lives. I’ve learned from my sister, Grace, that on November 30th, Momma had collapsed in the middle of Kroger and had to be hospitalized. While I can’t know for certain, I can only guess that perhaps that first day of Advent, while two little girls were happily reading season’s greetings, the doctors were telling my Momma that she had some form of cancer, and that it would be a miracle if she lived to see the next three months. I can only imagine the strength it took for her to walk out of that room to see her two youngest daughters sitting and reading with smiles on their faces, full of life and oblivious to the fact that the life was being drained from the loving mother standing above them.

Posted in Words from Sara

I have lots of memories of my beloved Momma. Well, I don’t know if you could call most of them memories, per se. They’re more like moments frozen in time, vivid snapshots with no noticeable sound, or hyperspecific details that stick out among the blur for some odd, unknown reason. These pictures have always been in my head, yet there is no written account, no journal entry, no recording. And rarely have I shared the memories with others. As I reach the ten year anniversary of my dear mother’s death, however, I feel compelled to remember, reflect, and reevaluate what my six-year-old self remembers about the whole ordeal, both for myself and for those who choose to read and listen. So, as I embark on this 100-day (or so) journey of healing, I’d be honored if you’d join me. 

God Bless,

-Sara Joy

Posted in Words from Sara

There are a couple of reasons this particular memory comes to mind today. It’s the first day of Advent, which means the family Christmas traditions are in full swing. Yesterday, my boyfriend told me all about his family’s holiday season rituals. It brought a bittersweet smile to my face and took me back to a certain Espiritu family tradition that my Momma upheld amidst all that was going on around her. 

Momma ignited and fueled her daughters’ love for reading. She always had new books for us to explore. The Christmas season was no exception. Every year, she’d carefully wrap up a series of Christmas books. Some were classics; some were brand new additions to the collection. She’d label them 1-25, and each day of December the sisters would tear through the paper to reveal the cover, open it up, and read it aloud. 

I have a picture in my head of my sister, Priscilla and I opening up the first book of the 2009 Christmas season while outside a hospital room. The other sisters must have been at school. Momma told Priscilla to read the book to me while we waited patiently for her and Dad to be done. We tore away the festive wrapping and began to read: S Is For Star. 

Looking back on this memory ten years later, it occurs to me that while this was happening, my parents were most likely receiving the worst news of their lives. I’ve learned from my sister, Grace, that on November 30th, Momma had collapsed in the middle of Kroger and had to be hospitalized. While I can’t know for certain, I can only guess that perhaps that first day of Advent, while two little girls were happily reading season’s greetings, the doctors were telling my Momma that she had some form of cancer, and that it would be a miracle if she lived to see the next three months. I can only imagine the strength it took for her to walk out of that room to see her two youngest daughters sitting and reading with smiles on their faces, full of life and oblivious to the fact that the life was being drained from their loving mother standing above them.

Posted in Words from Sara