Yesterday I picked up my mom up to watch my daughter’s bellydance troupe perform. While I call Mom everyday with a daily “I love you call”, when we spend time together at her house, at someone else’s house or at a predetermined destination, we don’t usually arrive together. So I didn’t see until yesterday that she’s slowed down in the last few months. The reality of how much she has, indeed, slowed down was overwhelming as I watched her walk many steps toward our destination.
She moved so hesitantly, hunched over and grabbing hold of the next available item to pull herself forward if she didn’t have another person or a cane or walker to help her. She studied so intently on taking the next step, being careful not to fall, her mouth hanging open in focus. It was hard for her to breathe. I held her walker, then her cane, and then her arm. My heart broke as I watched the prayer warrior, fighter and survivor work so hard to get where she was going. There was a lump in my throat as I forced back the tears, thinking of how my brothers and sisters and family members have seen this and how it must hurt them.
Once in the car I got a phone call and started explaining a very painful, life-altering situation I’m living through. Once I got off the phone, she asked about it and I told her, explaining that it’s been more than difficult to deal with so I’ve been edgy but don’t intend to be short with her as I explain it. I said, “Mom, I shouldn’t even be telling you this. You don’t need something to worry about.”
“You have to tell me these things, honey,” she replied. “If you don’t, I can’t pray, and praying is what I do. I hurt when you hurt and I need to know how to pray.” I told her ok and that I loved her very much.
I took her home later and turned to get in my car, realizing that I could have held her longer, hugged her harder and told her more deeply how much I love her. I listened to that unction and went back to say, “Mom, I need to tell you good-bye the right way.” I hugged her hard and told her how blessed I am to have her as my mom.
As I described to my husband the state she is in, I wept hard. I told him how sad I was that he lost his mom to cancer but how it was a blessing he didn’t have to see the aging process do what it does. Perhaps I was feeling sorry for myself or perhaps I was realizing something I’ve known for some time now and never faced.
This morning I went to her church and sat next to her. The service was especially meaningful and, with all I’m going through right now, I cried pretty hard. As I leaned forward in my pew and worked to control the sobbing, I felt a hand on my back, a hand that had placed itself there so many times over the years. I heard her whispers as she cried out to the Lord on my behalf. When she was done praying for me, she gave me several of what our family has come to refer to as “Gramma Jetta pats” on the leg. She told me how much she loves me and that she knows God has a plan.
God has a plan. Those words from one whose prayers move mountains.
This was the most precious gift I’ve received in a long time. To know her body is failing, to know she may go home to glory soon, and to know beyond a shadow of any doubt that she is on her knees for her family on a daily basis is a gift beyond description. To know, at that moment, her hand was on me and she was interceding on my behalf brings me joy I cannot describe. I have been given a gift that some will never know. I am so blessed.
I wanted to share this with you today to remind you not to miss the things in life that matter. Someone has been, is, and will be praying for you; there is no greater gift. When it is done unselfishly and physically demonstrated by such a prayer warrior as my mom, you KNOW God is going to hear and meet that need. Halleluiah. I so love my mom!!
Thank you for letting me share my heart.