December 25th
When my elderly parents moved to Texas to be near me in 2003, it was just before Thanksgiving. Little did they know that their lives were changing in difficult ways that went beyond a simple move across country. Mom’s debilitating stroke that occurred upon their arrival to Texas, made even the most “simple moves” difficult.
As Dad settled into their tiny apartment, Mom settled into life in various hospitals, rehabs, nursing homes, etc. Although my dad was sad and grieving, his laughter continued to flow easily, but as the months passed and Mom’s recovery slowed, her hope began to fade and her smile got lost.
In the days, months and even years that followed, it became my goal to bring that smile back to her face. Going anywhere was laborious, but that grin was worth it, though it did not always come. We went to movies, out to eat, played Bingo, came to the house, etc. The most successful occasions were when I had a litter of ragdoll kittens playing all around her and the first few times my horses nuzzled her outstretched hand. God bless them. It was a real smile that stemmed from her love for animals. Our golden retriever also had a way of bringing her to life, and she called to him in her stroke affected voice that I came to love so very much.
After my dad died, I decided to do whatever it took to get Mom to the Christmas Eve candlelight service at our church. It was cold and dark and 20 miles away, and her tolerance for excursions in the van outfitted for handicap travel had become almost nil. My husband, ever the servant hearted, drove to the nursing home and successfully situated her wheelchair at the end of our row. She was finally in the midst of My Community - people I’ve laughed and cried with for more years than I can count. Her presence there brought on a torrent of tears. I felt like the guys who had carried their sick friend across town and lowered him through the roof so he could be near Jesus. I cried and I cried, because that’s all I really wanted: for her to be near Jesus.
Last night, we had that same candlelight service and it’s been 8 years since she left us. It will always be a reminder to me of the night my mom sat in her wheelchair at the end of my row. How the pain of trying to make her life better rolled down my cheeks.
I miss you, Mom, and I am thinking of you today.
