My Mother’s Final Gift To Me: Birthday Lessons From Aruba

TravelLove

Feb 20

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his mercies never fail. They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

*Lamentations 3:22-23*

A gentle breeze blows just enough to cool me down underneath the outdoor shower. I am in Aruba, the place they call “One Happy Island” for my annual solo trip with God.

It’s been magical. At night, a woman named Milagros arrives at my beach cottage to create hearty meals like corn on the cob smothered in cheese and a plethora of other treats. I later learned that she escaped to Aruba after political corruption in Venezuela ripped apart her country.

Milagros made it out, but she hasn’t seen her children in four years.

I pull strength from her story. From the outside she appears so strong and happy, but later I see the sorrow in her eyes.

Milagros leaves for work early in the mornings and works all day long. In the evenings she cooks dinner to make extra money, but it's so much more to her. It's her passion. I hear her singing in the kitchen and she’s so joyful and in her element.

My new friend then comes out with dinner and shouts my name in her Venezuelan accent: “TAMMMMARA!”

She never just sets the plate down as if it’s only a meal. Milagros always makes it a special presentation and celebration.

This is her form of worship to steward the talents Jesus has given to her. We hug and celebrate. She uses her translation app to outline what every item is and then gleefully smiles with such accomplishment.

Later I watch as Milagros quietly disappears across the street carrying more plates of food and delivers the leftovers to neighbors.

She later tells me: “Cooking is my gift to the world.” I agree with her.

Her hospitality shows me the love of Christ in countless ways.

It’s a beautiful thing to watch people walk out their lives with God-ordained purpose.

“I WIN!” - MY MOM’S LAST TEXT TO ME

Tonight my foot is feeling a little better.

Earlier in the evening, a wasp stung me on the toe for absolutely no reason.

I looked down at it with a broken heart.

“Why did you do that to me,” I asked the little creature. I never even provoked it, but the sting hurt so bad that instinctually I had to understand why.

What did I do to you little fella?

Later God reminds me that we don’t always need answers. Sometimes things just happen.

Everything doesn’t always have to make sense and I accept this explanation.

That has been the story of my life over the last few years.

Many heartbreaking situations have unfolded since my mother passed away, and for a long time, I always sought to understand why. I want to understand the actions and behaviors of others, including God. Why did the Lord send me on this particular path for my life?

Then one day I just surrendered to it all. I grew tired of my questions and gave it to God. Only then did I fully start to grow.

My thoughts are startled as I eat dinner to the squeaky sounds of lizards hiding in the bushes. They are everywhere in Aruba.

I don’t like crawling creatures, but we can tolerate each other so long as we respect each another's space. Last night a lizard sprinted across the wall as I read in bed. We met eyes. “Oh heck no! Nope! Absolutely not!” I shouted at the little guy. We can coexist everywhere except where I sleep. He got the message and scurried away.

I am staying only a few blocks from one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.

It’s called Baby Beach and for many decades, it was hidden and only known to locals.

The resorts are on the other side of the island, so no one ventured over here. Then the internet age took over and the secret was out.

You won’t find hotels or rentals near this beach, but somehow God found me a cottage available in this tiny section of the island. It only cost $226 for the entire week! Like, what?

My birthday also happens to be 2-26 so the total cost made me smile. There’s no way it was a coincidence. Jesus orchestrated this gift for me. He literally placed me next to the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen and it's been the best surprise!

This week in paradise is majestic. Each year I take a solo trip during my birthday month to spend time with the Lord. It’s our little thing. It’s always healing in so many ways.

My birthdays have not always been the best since Mom passed away. There’s no more celebrations or funny voicemails with adorable singing. There’s no special gifts or even birthday cakes.

The last year that my mom was alive, she wanted to make it extra special for me. So she waited until 3pm that day until we loaded up in the car and journeyed from Dallas to Houston for another round of chemo.

It would be the last birthday I spent with my mom here on earth.

I still remember that day with great clarity. By then the cancer in my mom’s breast had traveled to her bones and left her bedridden.

She had me young, so my mom was always so youthful and vibrant. However, that final year the disease and treatment left her tired and weary. Finally I could see the physical ramifications of the pain she felt on the inside. Still, she wanted to keep fighting.

So on Feb. 26, 2017, my dad and I loaded her up in the backseat and I drove her to Houston.

I loved our trips together. We had endless conversations, jokes and we would always argue about music. She liked the 70s, I liked modern music, but we both had a deep love for Christian songs and would sing along the entire trip.

Laughter and music was one of our love languages, which still continues even today. I often wake up with songs playing in my head that I haven’t heard for years.

They are the songs we sang together.

Back on that final birthday together, Mom wasn’t able to get a gift or a card, but she had something more meaningful planned. She asked that we wait until late afternoon to leave for Houston.

So I slept in, walked the dogs and just spent time sitting on the front porch and relaxed.

Later my mom explained why she wanted to wait. “I wanted you to enjoy your special day for as long as possible, without being confined to a hospital.”

Still to this day the magnitude of those words captures me. She was always so selfless even in the midst of such pain and suffering. She sacrificed a long trip and waited until we left just to give me some peace and simplicity for a little while.

We later loaded up the car and journeyed to a hotel located inside MD Anderson Cancer Hospital. Mom asked the receptionist for one bed instead of two doubles. She planned for us to go to dinner, however, once we got inside the room, she took a turn for the worse. As the night wore on, Mom got even sicker and I told her we had to go to the ER.

She begged to wait until morning.

Somehow she knew. Somehow she knew this would be the last time she spent a birthday with her firstborn child. She wanted that one bed so mother and daughter could sleep close to each other.

February 26 marked the start of Mom’s dying period, only we didn’t realize it at the time. She’d overcome so many obstacles that we thought this would be another miracle moment.

Miracles had consistently shown up in our lives and I saw this firsthand when I was diagnosed with an incurable form of blood cancer at just age 29.

I had been healthy my entire life and was at the peak of my career when I suddenly started getting bruises, night sweats and infections that wouldn’t go away.

I remember going into surgery and all the doctors and nurses were so nice. Then when I came out, no one would look me in the eyes. They were all so somber.

The surgeon told my mom: “We went in to remove one lymph node from Tamara, but the disease was so severe all the nodes were matted together.”

Later when I got the official diagnosis, I was with Mom in her office. I just wrote down one word the doctor said: “cancer.” We stood there speechless.

Instead of going back to my place that night, I stayed with my mom because I was afraid to be alone. I tried to be so brave and protect her heart, but internally I was terrified.

That night I couldn’t sleep because I was just overwhelmed with shock and fear. I understood what my stage of disease meant and heard the grim outlook doctors told me. I tossed and turned that entire first night.

At some point I surrendered to the fear and tiptoed down to my mother’s room. I pulled back the covers and slipped in her bed. She never said a word, but instead reached across the bed and pulled me close. We quietly cried together. Mom and I didn’t have a touchy-feely relationship, but in that moment I needed all of her. She hugged and held me like only a mother could.

Now, seven years later in the hotel room in Houston, she was overwhelmed with the same kind of fear. Her journey was much more severe than mine and she suffered unimaginable pain and heartache. But I still understood what it was like to face death because I’d once stood in her shoes.

I would get a healing miracle in this lifetime, my precious mother would not.

That night we didn’t talk much, but just quietly wept and fell asleep touching arms. Sleeping next to her one final time was the greatest birthday present of my life.

The next day, doctors put her in the hospital.

My dad and sister came and took over the duties and Mom stayed there for a couple weeks.

My spirit was just shattered. I had nothing left inside me. I wouldn’t talk to anyone for a very long time. It’s almost like the trauma left me mute at times, but I still had the ability to write. It was the only thing that helped me heal.

There was a period I didn’t even leave the house. My heart had completely died. I returned to the hospital at one point and the doctors immediately told me they had important news to share with the family.

I stopped them before they could say another word. I already knew what was coming. They were going to explain that every treatment option for my beloved mother had been exhausted.

I didn’t have the strength to see the disappointment and sorrow in my mother's eyes. I was not capable of walking this part with her. I asked for my dad to come instead. He later told me that moment was the most gut-wrenching conversation of his life.

No matter how much my mom wanted to live, doctors said there was nothing left to do.

I can’t fathom the heartache both my mom and dad felt in that moment.

After doctor's delivered the news, my mom asked to ring the bell one final time.

Hospitals allow cancer patients to ring the bell after the completion of their treatment to celebrate the end of chemo.

Usually patients are celebrating remission and a cancer-free result, but my mother rang the bell with gladness to mark the end of her hospital journey and cancer fight.

She'd given it everything she had -- but she would die. No matter how much Mom wanted to live -- and she did want to -- her time here on this side of Heaven was coming to an end.

A short time later, my father loaded her up for one final ride home. I always wondered what they discussed and talked about. I wondered what my mom felt at that moment.

My dad tells me she was happy to finally go home. She wanted to be surrounded with the comforts of her house, with her dogs, and family and everything she loved.

Mom deserved that, too.

During that final drive home, she did have one last surprise for me.

Mom and I always had a thing about sunsets. I would take a million photos of them and she would laugh and joke about my obsession. So it took me by complete surprise when I received a text message from my mom as my parents drove home that final trip.

My mom sent me a text with a brilliant sunset picture that was kind of blurry — almost as if she had hung out the window and tried to steady the phone in the wind. It touched my heart to know that even in the midst of tremendous heartache, she still had the vision to see God’s beauty in the pain.

Underneath the photo my mom simply wrote: "I WIN!"

She was the ultimate competitor, so I knew what she meant. She was saying this was the best sunset photo of all time! 🐐

I would later come to understand the magnitude of her message in another way.

Mom had, indeed, won her journey in this life with Jesus. She had finished the race. Soon she would sail off into the sunset and land in the arms of our Father.

Sunsets intercepted our lives on one other occasion.

In the final week of her life, my mom rarely woke up and didn’t talk much. One night I was on overnight duty and watched Dateline as she slept. At the very end of the show, the final scene showed this beautiful sunset overlooking the ocean.

All of a sudden my mom opened her eyes and said: "Ohhhh T, isn't that beautiful?" We took in the view together for a few seconds. Then she quietly shut her eyes and went to sleep.

Mom died April 11 in the arms of family. Hospice never showed up, so we had to do it all alone. We washed and prepared her body afterwards and sat with her for hours.

Later the funeral home arrived after we’d sat with Mom’s deceased body for almost five hours.

This is why my mom’s death certificate shows April 12. She died on the 11th, it just took them so long to get there and it was well after midnight.

It was the most horrific and traumatic situation and no family should ever experience something like that. Still, I also recognized what a gift it was to say goodbye and have those final months together. So many people lose loved ones and never get that chance. I will never, ever forget this and our journey doesn’t compare to what others have to suffer when they lose someone in an instant or a child or young person or a loved one without time to prepare. Even during the coronavirus, so many people had to stay home while their loved ones died alone in the hospital. It’s unspeakable and tragic and I can’t begin to fathom their pain.

Sitting with my mom’s body those final hours did serve a purpose. We knew with clarity that it was just her body there. Mom’s soul was with Jesus. We could literally feel the freedom in her spirit when she left.

Now we had to pick up the pieces and it would take years to heal, yet there was plenty of beauty along the way, too. It would take me a long time to understand the fullness of it all.

CREATING NEW MEMORIES

After Mom passed away, I never again saw a sunset that took my breath away. I noticed the beauty, but it didn't bring me joy like before.

Yet as I sit here in Aruba, something strange has happened. The Lord keeps waking me up extra early even when I want to sleep in and get rest. He tells me to go walk and I catch every single sunrise. I pray and sing and smile during our walks along the coast each morning.

Then at nights, we watch the sunsets together and I feel this overwhelming peace and love in these moments.

God is in this. He is restoring me. It's two weeks until my birthday and He explains the date will never hurt again. My mother sees me and loves me. I know this because of the white butterflies that meet me on the walks to the beach.

Then something spectacular happens on my final morning in Aruba.

I am walking along the beach and turn around to return home and there’s a majestic rainbow standing right there! I try to walk closer towards it and it just disappears. Then as I turn to walk the next direction, there’s another one!

TWO RAINBOWS?! I love nature so much! God is always speaking through it. He’s the God of promises.

Noah looked insane when he built an ark when it’d never even rained on the earth. We always tell the good parts about the story with the ark and show the cute animals.

But it was extremely traumatic for Noah and his family. The entire world had been washed away in a flood. Noah and his family survived, but they’d also lived through incredible grief, then had to endure that smelly boat with all those animals.

The Lord sent Noah a rainbow to confirm the promises God set forth in his life. I perceive everything the Lord is telling me in this moment as I look at the bright colors in the sky. The Lord’s promises still stand. Great is thy faithfulness.

Mom is here in this moment. I feel her. I love her. I miss her. I feel her love in nature more than any place else. I see her every time I meet a person with her incredible humor and infectious laugh. She is in the smile of her grandchildren and every rainbow and stunning red cardinal that flaps in the sky.

Most of all, she is in my heart and she will always hold a special place that no other person can occupy.

My birthday marks the point I was born.

It’s also marks the point when my mother started to die.

Now it’s the moment when God will revive it all.

“I HARDLY EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU!”

A few years ago, the Lord nudged me to change the narrative of my life, so each February I take a solo trip with God.

I always come back such a better, more confident and thankful person.

Solo travel takes a ton of courage. It’s not scary to fly and be alone, but it takes courage to sit at an empty table each meal and embrace the silence. It takes courage to figure out how to grocery shop in a foreign land and navigate unfamiliar terrain and people. Then there’s the issue of just having to experience life and ask questions and step out with boldness along the way.

Solitude can be frightening, but it’s also the magic sauce. It’s such a cool experience that I desire for everyone to have at least once in their lifetime. I’m a strong proponent of solo travel, even if it’s just to the next town over.

God always shows up. If you can’t do solo, then I encourage you to try destinations you would never consider. My greatest memories took place in remote Guatemalan villages or in the highlands of the Andes Mountains. Think big and push yourself beyond the normal resort-style traveling to familiar places.

Someday I would even love to have a ministry that gives people facing terminal diagnoses a chance to travel to beautiful countries. So many people die without ever leaving their homeland.

Mom would have loved that idea. She understood the beauty of giving others “quality of life” gifts to allow them to make memories with loved ones. She especially loved to embrace different cultures and people.

She would have adored Milagros, the lovely woman that cooks here in Aruba, and has become my dear friend.

Tonight I leave her a note I had translated to Spanish.

“Thank you for using your gift to love others. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time and you remind me of my own mother. I will never forget you.”

And it’s true.

And I’ll never forget Aruba either.

Perhaps what’s most interesting about this cottage is it's owned by a woman named Vicky. My mom’s name is Vicki. And even more remarkably, the horse selected for me during my horseback ride earlier this week was also named Vicki.

God is in all of this. He has shown me this over and over during my stay on this island.

My heart is filled with so much gratitude.

Only in our weaknesses, God is made strong.

My mind thinks about my mom.

This April 11 marks the fifth year without her and I no longer have dreams where she returns home after a long trip. “Where have you been? That took forever!” I often asked her in dreams the first few years after she died.

She always came back in my dreams.

Then last year the dreams just stopped. My soul surrendered. My subconscious mind and heart finally understood that she is gone.

She’s not coming back.

Mom never appeared in a dream again until this past Christmas.

I was wearing a white wedding dress and floppy hat and I watched the dream unfold as if I was just an observer to the scene.

In the dream, I was looking at myself in the mirror and my mom just appeared. She was almost gazing and watching me at first. Then she approached me and tapped my hat in this playful way.

All the sudden, with this sing-song voice, Mom said: “You’re getting marrrrrrrrrried!”

I was confused and asked: “I am?!” I still don’t understand this part of her message, but someday it will make sense.

Next in the dream, Mom looked into my eyes and with this sweet and loving voice said: “I hardly even recognize you anymore!” She was so proud of me.

A tiny smile crossed my face. I felt so much joy in that moment.

I knew what she was saying. She was telling me that I’ve grown and became a new woman in these last five years.

This is who God always meant for me to be.

And she’s right.

I hardly recognize myself either.

Only through losing her, did I eventually find me.

THE LIGHT ALWAYS BREAKS THROUGH THE DARKNESS

All these thoughts cross my mind as I watch the sun cascade into the clouds on my final evening in Aruba.

My heart is full of thanksgiving to my Heavenly Father, the One who holds my full heart. I love Him so very much. He will always be my first and main love. He always finds ways to love me back to life.

The white pillow sand makes me feel like I’m soaring on clouds. All week He’s been whispering “my mercies are made new in the morning.”

I later raced to find the scripture and verse. It’s from Lamentations 3:22-23.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning, great is your faithfulness."

It’s a reminder that the light will always break through the dark. Just as we remain confident that the sun will always rise, we can be confident that God’s character is so full of mercy, love and kindness. We don’t have to understand it all because HE does.

Sometimes we learn lessons on this side of Heaven, other times we just surrender to what is and what will be.

Every day is a gift from our Father. His handprint is on our entire life. Every morning we get to start fresh and walk this journey together.

Something feels so very different about this trip.

That something is me.

Maybe the memories and pain of past birthdays won’t hurt as much any longer.

Maybe time really is healing my wounds.

Maybe birthdays were never meant to be just about cake and gifts or about us. Perhaps it’s always been about HIM, the very One who designed our lives long before we were ever born.

His mercies are always new.

ONE HAPPY ISLAND

Mom loved to travel and she never made it to Aruba. But I always feel her on these trips.

I especially feel Jesus. I am alone, but never lonely.

There have been countless highlights since arriving here, like getting to the car rental place and finding out the entire island was out of vehicles!

I felt so defeated until the worker said: “Don’t be sad, this is One Happy Island.” He told me to wait.

So I waited. And waited.

An hour later the most beautiful sound echoed in the distance! It was a rattling car with a missing headlight, and hubcaps that’s squealed so loud that I could hear it screeching from a mile away.

“I found you a car!” the man shouted with joy and together we hugged! How could it be?! We had called everywhere and the entire island was wiped of rentals!

Somehow he already knew what I was thinking.

“It’s my family car and now it’s for you!” the worker explained to me.

I was so thankful that I literally clapped! This sweet man gave me his very own family car to drive for the week. He had one request and that was to pick up his niece from work and give her a ride home.

So I jumped in that precious baby blue car that was all tattered with a seatbelt that wouldn’t even fasten and raced to her job!

Then my new friend and I bumped along together and hit every pot hole, but it was a glorious ride!

I was back in the driver’s seat, only this time I was carrying someone else in a new land.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and imagined Mom sitting back there. She winked and smiled. Tears quietly fell down my cheeks.

The Lord then whispered to my heart that both joy and sorrow can coexist. He’s given us the capacity to carry both. We equally need both parts to help others on the same journey.

Everything serves a purpose.

I felt so loved and understood at that moment. Only God could write this story.

Later, Jesus nudged me to look up the meaning to the name “Milagros,” who was the woman that cooked for me and reminded me of my mother.

So I did.

Her name means Miracles.

One Happy Island.

One happy island, indeed.