Finitude and Gratitude

Finitude. It's not a word I come across very often in my reading or listening, and it is certainly not one that I've used myself in conversation. It came up as a theme in a podcast episode I heard this week, though. Author Kelly Kapic and Jonathan Rogers, the host of a writerly podcast called The Habit, used "finitude" numerous times as they discussed Kelly's book, "You're Only Human", published in 2022. 

We humans possess finitude which means we are finite, and therefore have limits or bounds. Kelly claims that our finitude is not a sin, but rather, it is a gift of being human. Thinking carefully about our "creatureliness", says Kelly, "will reveal limits, dependence, love, reliance on the grace of God, and worship." According to him, a proper view of finitude expands our joy of being a creature, and brings the freedom of resting on the promises of our Creator. 

Finitude. What a timely word for me to ponder this week, since the third of May marks the thirtieth anniversary of Mom-Eva's Homegoing. Cancer was a stark and cruel reminder of my biological mom's finitude. It pulled in her limits and bounds relentlessly, too tightly, too soon. She was 51 years old when she died. Finitude means that I have now lived a longer time without her than the amount of time that I knew her when she was alive. 

I shrink from the memories of her loss - the fading of her signature strength and vitality - and our loss - the fading of a beautiful light in our lives when she left us. I shrink from the realization that I, her daughter, have also inherited her finitude. It saddens me, this finiteness does, and sometimes my sorrow edges toward despair. Finite just sounds too much like...final. 

That's why I'm grateful for Kelly's reminder to think more carefully about creatureliness. Are we humans made earthen vessels, ordinary clay pots we might say, for the purpose of containing Treasure? The cracks of our finitude allow the light of God's excellence to shine through. What if our limits are to showcase His boundlessness? To remember we are creatures is to acknowledge that we have a Creator. We don't have to get it all nor do we have to be all, because He is. We are free to be finite because He is infinite. 

I wonder if Mom understood this better than I realized. I know she sometimes struggled with having high expectations of herself and then feeling frustrated when she couldn't meet them. But she definitely developed ways of expressing her joy of living. She also knew what it was to rest on the promises of her Creator. I can't think of a better legacy to impart. 

That's why, in my reflection on finitude, I come to gratitude. I'm grateful for Mom's example of doing both outer and inner hard work. She had lots of ambition and accomplished much, whether it was gardening, cleaning resort cabins, making Sunday dinners, raking the lawn, writing family histories, or raising us children to adulthood. 

She also recognized her need for intellectual and spiritual growth. Mom read widely, studied Scripture, participated in Sunday School discussions and meaningful conversations, and prayed (and got us children to pray) about everything no matter how large or small. And while I have no idea what all she and The Spirit discussed during His Training Sessions, I know she had definite marks of His beauty as a result. 

I'm grateful for the way that Mom loved life and how she demonstrated that love in spite of and in the midst of her limitations. A distinct memory I have of her illustrates this well. There was an open field in front of our place, from which hefty summer breezes would sometimes sweep across our yard. These winds would frustrate me with their power and persistence, and I would rather stay indoors than to go outside and be at their mercy in force and unpredictability. But Mom relished being out in the gale. She'd stand out in the yard, lifting her arms and grinning broad with satisfaction, exclaiming to anyone who cared to listen, "Oh, I just looove the wind!"

When the cancer had her in its tightest grip, Mom showed us what it means to have one's "inner man renewed day by day" even as the "outward man is perishing". (II Corinthians 4:16) Even as I remember her example all these years later, it helps me to "not lose heart". 

I remembered Mom's example again this morning during the sermon at church. The speaker emphasized the importance of having a firm foundation for structures in the physical world, and much more so in our spiritual lives. He pointed out that it is in hard times that the sureness of our foundation is tested. This also provides an opportunity to glorify the builder. If a house is still standing after a hurricane has gone through the area, people will notice, and say "That's the kind of foundation I want! Who built that house?" 

My Mom was an imperfect, finite human but she had a perfect and infinite Builder. I'm grateful to know that she experienced much joy in living for Him while she was on earth but my heart overflows with gratitude to know that she is now in His presence, where there is fullness of joy forever. 

An infinite Giver gave me a mother with finitude. I'm grateful to Him for the gift of being her daughter, and for the gift of remembering her. 

For You, Mom

Since today is Mother’s Day and since it is also close to the anniversary date of my first mom’s Homegoing, I will dedicate this post to the memory of Mom-Eva. She passed away from cancer twenty-four years ago this month. I’ve been thinking a lot about her these days.

Much of this post consists of photos that I took recently of things that make me think of her. I shot a number of these pics when I went on a walk in the woods this week. The names and features of the flowers and birds in the photos I learned from Mom when I was a child. Mom would have enjoyed going on that walk with me, and I would have loved to have her along. I miss you, Mom-Eva!

This Post’s Quotables:

Here are a few expressions and exclamations that come to mind when I recall Mom-Eva quotes.

        “All good things take time” (said especially in regards to us children dating and her not wanting us to be in too much of a hurry to get married)

        “La, ti, do!” or “This day do I remember my faults.” (scolding herself when she pulled a blooper)

        “Let’s pray about it.”

     “We all have to fight our own lazies.”

       “Step up and help with the dishes.” (someone who could "see work" - a character quality highly praised by Mom - wouldn’t need to be told this)

This Post’s Childhood Memory:

While Mom-Eva was ambitious and no-nonsense in so many ways - to a fault, at times - she allowed for leisure and fun, too. It still rather surprises me that she allowed my twin and me to play with her hair once in a while. She would sit and read a book by the light of the living room lamp, and we were allowed to unpin her covering, undo her little hair bun by pulling out the hairpins and un-tucking the brown holey hairnet, remove several bobby pins that were holding her two front hair “swoops” in place on either side of the “part” down the middle of head, and brush out the short and rather thin locks. I still remember the oily, shampoo-ey smell of her hair. Sometimes, we’d re-comb her hair and try to put it up again exactly like Mom did, and sometimes we were silly and put our own colorful barrettes at odd places in her hair or made funny little braids haphazardly over her head. She’d smile indulgently when we’d stand back and giggle at the effects. I wonder if she was conscious then of the connection she was building with us in those moments.

In what ways did your Mom connect with you when you were a child?