She died Feb. 15, 2003, and so did my hope of ever hearing those beautiful words, “I love you, Leslie.”

Mom had an attitude like a hostile hornet. Her words were lethal, especially toward me. “You’re stupid.” “You’re worthless.” “I wish you were never born.”

A Dysfunctional Family
We didn’t get hugs in our family. Physical touch was a slap, jerk of the arm or a harsh beating. Mom grabbed the nearest object as her weapon and struck me wherever my body was exposed. On top of everything else, my mom was an alcoholic. She didn’t try to control her anger or her drinking, and she never apologized for her behavior or her words.

I entered my teen years desperately needing her to be a mom. I needed adult wisdom and advice to make good choices. But Mom didn’t offer any; couldn’t offer any.

Mom’s History
Mom kept her history a secret. It was decades before she offered any details, but when she did, some of my questions were answered. Her mother had abandoned her, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. But what was worse was that while her mom gave her away, she chose to keep my mom’s little sister and brother.

That kind of rejection can mess a person up for life. In my mom’s case, it contributed to her alcoholism and the rejection of her role as my mother.

A New Father
I didn’t meet God until I was 20. He stepped into the mess of my life and loved me through the consequences of my teenage decisions. Even though I experienced an extreme makeover of my heart, I was still haunted by callous words seared into my memory. I kept hearing the echo of “You’re stupid.” “You’re worthless.”

I read my Bible for peace, answers and insight to God’s nature. Page by page, He taught me about himself, leading me to Psalm 139. I discovered God knew me before I was born and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Incredible!

Because He made me in that secret place, He must have hand-picked the woman who would be my mother. It took me years to get my brain around that truth and to understand more about why He placed me in a family like mine.

Each time I meditated on Psalm 139, I faced the truth that God knew me, inside and out. He knew my hateful thoughts, the depth of my unforgiveness, and He heard my daily prayer, “Father, make me more like You.”

The last verses of this beautiful Psalm say, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting.”

My heart overflowed with offensive thoughts. I hated my mother, and God was telling me that it was impossible to love Him and hate my mother. Love for God can’t grow with hate for another person.

A New Strategy
If I wanted the hate-echo to end, I’d need to change my prayer. “Father, help me to forgive my mother, to love her, to honor her.”

I made clumsy efforts to forgive, and loving her didn’t come easily. She was the same person, still said stinging words and still drank excessively. But God honored my meager attempts to love what was unlovely.

Several years later, God whispered a question inside my head: “Leslie, is it all right with you if you never hear your mother say, ‘I love you?’ ”

What a question! It rocked me. I was in church and started to weep while God carved this love Scripture in my soul.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:15-16).

Living out the Strategy
In that moment, I decided to free my mom from my expectations and her failures. I chose to stop trying to prove that I was worthy of her love. I determined to get to know her on different terms—to understand who she was on the inside instead of waiting for her to love me.

I concentrated on things we both enjoyed, such as writing, sewing, gardening and dogs. I asked questions and listened for the echo of her heart. Amazingly, I discovered her heart-echo was the same as mine. “Please love me. Please don’t leave me.”

The Last Chance
It was Valentines Day, the perfect opportunity to express love and, as it turned out, the last opportunity between mother and daughter.

As usual, she was cranky with the nurses and with me. When it was time to leave, she waved me over to her bedside. Opening her arms wide, inviting me closer, she hugged me long and tight. No words were spoken. Our eyes met; both of us were teary.

“Goodbye, Leslie.”

“Bye-bye. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I love you, Mom.”

“I know.”

But I didn’t get to see her the next morning. She was dead. And I never heard, “I love you.”

My focus, however, had changed. God taught me how to live victoriously and with a forgiving heart even though I never heard the words I yearned to hear from my mother.

Don’t let this Mother’s Day pass without telling your mom how much you love her. Chances are, she’ll hug you and say it back. But if she doesn’t? God can help you love a dysfunctional mom in spite of it.