March 8th, 2017

Wednesday, March 8, 2017. Most of my siblings and some of my nieces and nephews were at my folk's house. We were waiting for my mom to die.

Although my mom had been dealing with many health issues for over 5 years, she took an extremely quick downturn after being home just a short time from her last trip to a rehabilitation facility. She had been doing so well at the facility that I was excited when she came home. "She'll be more confident getting around with her walker," I thought. "She'll be able to get out and about a little more now." I was wrong.

I went to see her Sunday the 5th. She was having trouble speaking. "Dorothy. Where's my Dorothy?' she asked and smiled when I said, "Here I am" and leaned over to kiss her. Before I left that evening I told her that I loved her and we kissed again after she told me she loved me, too. Those were the last words I heard her speak to me. 

Monday the 6th my dad called to say my mom wasn't doing well. I drove over. She was lethargic. Not moving. Not really communicating. I stretched out on the bed next to her. I held her hand. I read her the prayers she always loved me to read to her when she was in the hospital. When I went in the hallway I asked my dad if we could call our priest to perform the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. In the afternoon, Fr. Mark came and prayed over her and anointed her and led all who were there in a Litany of the Saints. 

Shortly after that, her physical therapist came and, after she saw my mom, she spoke to me in the hallway. Well, first she cried. "I'm sorry. I've treated your mom for so long. I really love her." The therapist called the nurse. It was determined that her doctor should be called and hospice brought in. My mom's visiting nurse spoke to me on the phone. "This may be an odd request. Please give your mom a hug and a kiss for me. I love her." It didn't sound like an odd request to me. I knew how my mom impacted people she met. 

Hospice came the morning of the 7th. We spent the day reeling from the news that she had hours to very few days to live. We held her hand. We prayed. We cried. We talked to her. We reminisced. 

Wednesday the 8th was a continuation of our vigil. Sometimes a bunch of us would be around her and sometimes only one of us. I put the Chaplet of Divine Mercy on for her, because she would pray that at least once a day. At one point I asked my dad if he wanted some time alone with her. "No. I woke up at 1 last night and I talked to her until 5. We had our alone time together." One of my sisters was scrubbing the kitchen. I cleaned the bathrooms and washed the floors. My mom always was such a great cleaner and she used white vinegar and water when she cleaned the floors. When I finished, I went and took her hand. "The house is all clean. I bet you can smell the vinegar. I cleaned the floors just how you like them."

Later in the afternoon, I was talking to one of my sisters in the kitchen and we heard great belly laughs coming from the bedroom. We just HAD to find out what that was all about. We headed to the bedroom to find mom surrounded by most of my siblings and some of my nieces and nephews. They were trying to figure out why it was so funny when you saw videos of people falling and were just laughing and laughing. My mom loved music and the Alan Jackson song, "Remember When" was playing. I had used that song in my parent's 50th wedding anniversary video 12 years prior. Her breathing became more labored, but she was peaceful. Many of us were crying as her breaths slowed down, we were touching her, and I suddenly felt incredible heat spill over us. As the song was coming to a close, she stopped breathing. My nephew looked up and said, "Should I go and get Gramps?'  

As my dad was coming into the room, she began to breathe again. Shallow, labored, slow breaths. My dad went up and put his hands on her face. "“It’s okay, Lovie. It’s okay to let go. Your mom is waiting for you, and your brothers. Dot is there, and Kay. They’re all waiting. It’s okay, Lovie, to let go." Someone suggested we pray. Our Father. Hail Mary. Glory Be. Our Father. Hail Mary. Glory Be. Our Father. Hail Mary. Glory Be. 

I asked my sister to put on "You'll Never Walk Alone." That was my parent's wedding song. We cried. We held her. We held each other. My dad remained near her face - touching her - looking at her. Again, I felt heat pour over us. Then my mom was gone.

When my mom was in the hospital, my sisters and I would take turns spending the night with her. She told some of us how when she saw my dad's face she would feel safe. That was all she needed. Just to see his face and she knew everything was okay - she was safe. How fitting, then, that this is the man who was by her side, looking in her face, as she left this world and entered eternal life. 

I've been numb since her passing. However, the reality is slowly beginning to sink in and the truth that she is no longer physically here crushes my heart. But there is hope. We have hope in the Lord. She taught me to trust in the Lord and right now I cling to what she taught me.  

Wednesday, March 8, 2017. A great woman passed from this earth, but her impact is like that of a pebble that is tossed into the water. The ripples go far beyond what she could have ever imagined. I just pray that in my lifetime I can touch people even just a fraction of the way my momma did. That is a life worth living, indeed. 

Memorial Video for My Momma

"But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,
and no torment will ever touch them.
2 In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,
and their departure was thought to be a disaster,
3 and their going from us to be their destruction;
but they are at peace.
4 For though in the sight of others they were punished,
their hope is full of immortality.
5 Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good,
because God tested them and found them worthy of himself;
6 like gold in the furnace he tried them,
and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.
7 In the time of their visitation they will shine forth,
and will run like sparks through the stubble.
8 They will govern nations and rule over peoples,
and the Lord will reign over them forever.
9 Those who trust in him will understand truth,
and the faithful will abide with him in love,
because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones,
and he watches over his elect."

Wisdom 3:1-9

Cleaning for the Soul

Last week we took our two oldest and got them settled in for another year at their respective colleges. For T, this is the start of her fourth year and for D, this is the start of his second. It's such a busy whirlwind in the days before they head off.  The packing. The organizing. The shopping.  The list checking.  The laundry.  The list goes on and on.  And then, in a flash, things are quiet.

When T left her first year, it was quite an emotional roller coaster.  I wrote a little about that experience here.  Especially during that first week, just walking by her room would bring me to tears. When I was able to bring myself to go in and clean, a peace came over me as the Holy Spirit nudged my conscious.

I pray for my kids every day.  I prayed for them before they were born. I prayed for them as they grew. I prayed for them each day for whatever came to mind. When T went to college, the Holy Spirit worked His way through my sadness and inspired me to pray for my children a different way.  Not that it is such a unique idea or that others haven't done this before. However, it was just what I needed at the time and what I've done each year since that August in 2012 when we dropped our daughter off for her first year of college.

So, what did I do differently?  "Enquiring minds want to know." Well, maybe they don't, but that was just what popped into my head remembering those silly National Enquirer advertisements.  I'm digressing. Apologies. Where was I? Oh, yes. Sending my kiddos off to college and coming home without them and praying and cleaning. 

So, what DID I do differently? I went into T's room to do a thorough cleaning from top to bottom.  Stripped the bed, flipped the mattress, washed the curtains, dusted the baseboards - the whole shebang. The entire time I cleaned, I lifted T in prayer. Her friends - that she would find good ones and be a good one. Her roommate. Her teachers. Her studies. Her choices. Her spiritual journey. Her future spouse - if that is the vocation God wants for her. Her health. Her safety. Her future job. Her time at home. You name it, I prayed it. I covered her in prayer. Whatever I could think of for that day, the next, all the way down the road. Whatever came to mind, I lifted in prayer. As I wiped the dirt away, I covered her with great love through my conversation with God.

These aren't new things that I brought to God. However, during my scrubbing four years ago something sacred occurred. As I cleaned that room I looked at what was there. This was the room that she had lived in and decorated. She cried there, she laughed there, she chose what things to put on her walls and what to put on her shelves. The things left didn't make the cut for being brought to college. Yet, they would still speak to her when she would come home of her roots and where she began. 

Because of this, I cleaned that room so that when she walked in from college it would be fresh and crisp and welcoming - it would be home. I filled that room with prayer for my daughter's past, her present, and her future. I filled those four corners with prayer so that when she walked in she would feel safe and warm and loved. 

Last year and this year I had two rooms to clean. (My experience with D heading off is here.) Two of my children slipping from childhood into adulthood. Two. Two. Two.

So, what exactly DID I do differently? I don't pray any differently, per se. They aren't new things. It is more of a concentration of prayer. During that time I reflect on where they have been, celebrate who they are now, and envision who they may be in the future. The cleaning itself becomes a prayer, an extension of the words and thoughts forming in my heart. I cover them in prayer and God hears me.

I pray and wipe and pray and dust and pray and scrub and pray and launder. For a momma feeling the sadness and loss of her children being away, it brings peace to my soul. 


"Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you."  1 Peter 5:7




 

Family Dynamics

Family dynamics.  Bitter and sweet.  Alike and different.  Weak and strong.  Take and give.  Rainy and sunny.  Noisy and quiet.  Nasty and nice.  Laughter and tears.  Family dynamics.  

Every family has its own unique dynamic.  Yet we can look at a family and see their dynamic at work.  What they say.  What they do.  How they interact.  How they joke.  They know how to lift each other up.  And how they can cut each other to the quick.

Learning to love your adult family when your relationships have not turned out how you hoped they would when you were growing up is a challenge.  Some days I come out on the top of that challenge and other days that challenge crushes me and brings me to my knees.

Generally, I try to see the good, remember the good, embrace the good in my siblings.  Actually, I think I try to do that in my life overall.  However, there are days when the nastiness comes forth and what I want to do is just close myself away from some of these people.  These people who are supposed to love me.  These people who are my family.  These people who have, at times, nourished my heart and have then scarred it.

Every once in a while a day comes along, something is said or repeated, and old hurts that I thought I'd left behind are stirred up.  When there is a fresh hurt, things that have been long forgotten get blown to the forefront of my mind.  And that is where I find myself today.  I'm in the middle of the sandstorm and am trying to pray myself through it and regain peace in my heart.

Today I feel battered and bruised, weak and alone.  Today I am mourning for the adult life I had envisioned with my siblings that has not developed.  During these times in my life when I'm feeling isolated from those God placed so closely to me, I am reminded of the one who never fails me, never leaves me.

We are brought to our knees in sadness many times in our lives.  Whatever the reason that has brought us there, if we just put our hurts, our pain, our desperation at His feet, He will help us through.  Today I am on my knees with a broken heart and God is whispering, "Look up, my child.  Look up to Me.  Let go.  Let go of the disappointment.  Let the painful memories settle far from your mind.  Let go and look to Me.  I know you.  I love you. Let go.  Let go so that your hands and mind and heart are open to receive what I have in store for you.  Let go and reach for Me."

And, because of this, there is hope in my heart.  

Beads

As long as I can remember, those beads were never far from her hands.

My mom, the youngest of 8 children raised by a single mom, was given my Nana's rosary when she passed away early in the 70's.  Since then, that rosary has never been far from my momma's hands.

A simple rosary.  Made of glass beads and chain and a crucifix and a medal.  Things.  A simple rosary.  Yet part of her.  And part of her mother. 

As long as I can remember, that is the rosary my mom would use to pray the beautiful prayer where the Mother of God, our Mother Mary, points us to her son and inspires us to reflect on Jesus' life.  Everything in the rosary and everything about Mary always leads us to her son.  That is her role, and she still does that for us earthly children today.

As long as I can remember, my mom has received other rosaries. Some beautiful and exquisite and some plain and ordinary.  Yet the one that she always went back to and the one that she treasured was her mom's rosary. 

As long as I can remember, there have been times when the beads were missing.  What happened?  Where were they?  When were they last seen?  After searching ourselves, we would pray to St. Anthony and ask for his intercession and he always pulled through for us.

I've walked into my mom's room as a child and now as an adult and found her sleeping with the beads either loose in her hand or resting next to her.  She often would fall asleep while touching these beads and praying - bringing joys, thoughts, concerns, worries, blessings, thanksgivings, sadness to her God.  As long as I can remember, the beads would be in her pocket or next to her on the sofa or on the table right by her bed.

When my mom had her stroke, from the moment we went to the hospital not even knowing yet what was wrong, she held those beads.  She would awake from a rest and her hands would move and she would search for those beads.  They would be in her hands until she needed to have a test when she would pass them to myself or my sister or my dad, knowing that as soon as she was done that she would have them back.  She would stir in her sleep and her hands would start to skim the sheets. "Here is your rosary, Mom."  Her fingers would close around the beads and a bit of peace would be restored.

As long as I can remember, those beads have spoken.  They've spoken of comfort and strength.  They've spoken of perseverance in prayer.  They've spoken of pain and sorrow.  They've spoken of trust.  They've spoken of a mother's connection to her children.  They've spoken of a child's connection to her momma.  They've spoken of where you turn in happiness and where you turn in sadness. 

Since her stroke, she has misplaced the beads a little more often.  There were a couple of times that we thought they might be gone for good.  Yet, by God's grace, they have always been found.

So last night when I went to my parent's home I was surprised when my mom handed me a note and a small pouch. The note began in my mom's writing, continued in my dad's, and ended with my mom's signature:

To my youngest child,
I did want to give this to my youngest child. Aunt D gave this to me when Nana died and since I was the youngest, I wanted my youngest to receive it...So here's to my beautiful daughter who I love very much. Enjoy using this rosary as much as I have.
God Bless,
Mom

As long as I can remember, those beads have been an extension of my mom and now she has entrusted them to me.  A mom guides her children, she points the way, she shines a light, and prays that her children will not go astray.  A mom sets an example and fills a home with love. 

Today I look down at my own hands, so very much like my momma's.  I look at my hands and see the beads of my Nana, the beads of my mom, gently resting in my palm.  I feel the love of these woman and pray that these unworthy hands, holding these precious beads, can set even a bit of the example of motherhood and love of God that my momma has taught and continues to instill in me today.

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
    she can laugh at the days to come.
 She speaks with wisdom,
    and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
 She watches over the affairs of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
 “Many women do noble things,
    but you surpass them all.”
 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
    and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Proverbs 31:25-31