On or near July 12 every year, my thoughts turn to someone I wish I could have known better: My mother.
Joie Richardson married my dad, Ralph LeMarr, after his return from the Marine Corps following World War II. My sister was born the next year, and much later, after being told they might not have more children, they were surprised by me. When I was two years old, though, my mother began having headaches and vision problems. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and surgery could not remove it all; specialized laser techniques had not been invented yet.
My early memories include my mother explaining why her hair was all shaved off; me sitting quietly as she read simple stories, hesitantly because of her failing eyesight; me doing simple chores as she directed because she did not feel strong enough that day to sweep or dust; and me running to the barn to fetch my dad if she needed help. And, oh, yes—her prayers, as she quoted favorite Bible verses and reminded me that no matter what, we must trust God.
My mother passed away on July 12, one month after my fourth birthday. Decades later, the anniversary of her passing raises thoughts and questions that have only grown more complicated over time as I meet other people asking similar ones.
Why are some people miraculously healed, but my mother, in spite of her strong faith, was not? Why do bad things happen, especially to good people? Would I really see her again, in a place called heaven the Bible talked about? I didn’t understand all of what my mother told me, but amazingly, I still believed her. My dad continued faithfully taking our family to church and reading his Bible after her death, and I eventually realized something kept him anchored. As I attended college and encountered other worldviews, my passion for reading—which started at age three when I had to be quiet so my mother could rest—helped me conclude that all worldviews fall short except one. If you’re in a questioning place, that’s okay; God will meet you there!
My mother’s faith during her diagnosis, surgeries and eventual passing, has impacted many, many people. My dad’s faith was strengthened through hers, and after he remarried, he and my stepmother taught a foundations class for new believers; Dad also did prison ministry and contributed financially to numerous missionaries. Their faith influenced my own, and now I am privileged to help advance the gospel by writing faith-based articles and ministry features. Two of my adult children are serving in ministry.
So once again, as July 12 rolls around, I think through some of my questions, but I also realize each day is an opportunity to see those questions answered. More than ever, I see the importance of being anchored in faith in a loving God, even when there are things I don’t understand.
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