We are laughing with my sister who recently had knee surgery. It is my sister, my niece and me.

“I’m weepy,” she says.

“Weepy, who says that?” laughs her daughter.

I know who says that! It was our mother.

I miss my mom. I really miss my mom through the ‘weepier’ days of divorce. And I especially miss my mom when my sister speaks her familiar language.

I often wonder and wish for the advice my mom would give me in the midst of divorcemania.

I am reminded of a conversation with my friend, “Stella.”

We are commiserating about divorce. It is a conversation of waxing and waining about our strength and weakness at a time that we need only the prior.

“My mom says that I need to put it in God’s Hands,” says Stella. “I tell my mom, Really? Don’t you think his hands are getting pretty full?”

For a brief moment I am so envious of Stella. I wish I still had my mom to turn to. I want advice. I want comfort. I want my mom.

I want to know the stellar (sorry had to put in the pun) words my mother would offer me at this time so that I can cope.

We finish our conversation and I think back to what Stella’s mom had said to her. A smile comes across my face.

The truth is my mother seldom offered concrete advice in the crisis of life. She didn’t get specific on what she thought I should do. She would only say one thing to me.

“Colleen, put it in the hands of The Lord.”

As a young girl, I always wanted more. I wanted a step by step solution.

Stella’s mother reminded me that I don’t have to wonder what my mom would tell me to do. She left me with the unifying simplicity and magnitude of prayer.

She left me with concrete advice.

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