Honor Thy Mother
Mom celebrating her birthday
Two years ago today my Mom died. My sister and I were there with our spouses, but we weren't preparing to say goodbye. We thought we would be taking her home, or making arrangements for a brief stint in a rehabilitation facility. When the doctor told us there was little they could do for her and that she would be moved to hospice, the life literally slipped out of her. It wasn't long before the bi-pap machine that was helping her breathe ceased doing its job.
I knew at that moment something was wrong, but the nurse tried to assure me she was fine. Perhaps, but not the way I wanted her to be fine. I longed for that smile, that laughter, the sparkle in her eyes when she was enjoying life with her family. I wanted her to stay with us in this life, not to go home, not yet.
Throughout my life, Mom was always the first to celebrate little joys. She couldn't wait to receive our report cards (she and Dad were both teachers) and no matter what the grades, she overwhelmed us with praise. There was nothing we could do to separate us from her love, even when we fought with each other or yelled at her. And she remembered everything. Many times she would remind me of ideas I had shared with her, especially when she saw or heard evidence that my predictions had come to pass.
Then Jesus said to them, 'Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.' Mark 6:4
It was certainly not the case in our home, not with us. She treated us as if we were prophets. Mom's children where gifts from God endowed with special talents that she treasured. She thought more highly of us than herself, giving us credit for the simplest accomplishment while refusing to see all that she had achieved in her life.
After my father died, Mom had to do something she feared more than being alone. She had to learn to drive. She was 56 years old when she got her license and the first thing she did was back up into the fence. She had tried to learn to drive when she got married, but had a bad experience when a friend who was supposed to be teaching her, panicked and she crashed the car. So, the fact that she overcame that fear 30 years later was a major accomplishment. Of course, she insisted on playing it safe, making more right turns than left to avoid heading out into traffic, but that was the way Mom was. She did it her way, without fanfare, without praise.
When my wife Kathy and I got married, Mom became best friends with Mickey, Kathy's mom. Mickey was a power pack for Mom. Together, they did things Mom would never have done alone, mostly visit casinos to play the slots, and going out to lunch. They loved to sit and talk, with coffee and cigarettes (their downfall). We made the mistake of going to Atlantic City with them once, staying up all night waiting for them to return. Mickey convinced Mom to fill buckets with quarters to make it look like they won, rather than let on how much they lost.
When Mickey passed, Mom was crushed. Those last years were lonely ones. We tried to spend time with her, but it was difficult to be there as much as she would have wanted. In a way, Jesus could have been talking about how children honor their parents with the quote from Mark about prophets without honor.
Mom was special and I long for just one more afternoon, or one more late night game of Hearts or Rummy 500, or even a brief phone call. I honor Mom today, for all the times she was there for me, and for all the love I can share with my family because of her. Thank you, Mom. I love you.