last weekend I was sick. and I thought about this.
When I’m really sick I think about my momma.
When I’m really happy I think about her too.
Isn’t that sort of funny?
Who doesn’t think about their momma during the highs and the lows of every day existence?
People whose mommas live down the street.
Human nature is a curious state.
Rich people don’t usually spend their days thinking about money.
And poor people think about it all the time.
Healthy people aren’t spending afternoons pondering illness but sick people think obsessively about getting better.
When I was sick recently here’s what I was thinking about my mother.
She suffered.
Oh, goodness. How she suffered.
I was lying in bed. Not moving. Willing myself to be still. Movement hurt. Talking burned my throat. I cried when Kevin came in and rubbed my feet and legs. Everything about everything felt terrible.
And my momma knew so much worse.
She wasn’t a martyr.
But she didn’t waste a lot of breath complaining.
Lying in my bed. Knowing my sickness will not be fatal. Knowing it’s just one lousy weekend amid the prospects of better ones in the future.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about my momma.
And spending some time crying. Sequestered back in the bedroom in my sick bed. The rise and fall of happy and distressed sounds coming from our plethora of children living their lives.
I miss my mother.
I miss her when I’m sick.
And I miss her when I’m well.
And all that missing just adds up to make me who I am. And who I am not. Who I want to be. And who I’m trying to avoid becoming.
This jumble of words just one way to navigate through the Now and try to make a little beauty from a pile of ashes.
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2 Comments
@treadingwater
This is probably going to come out all strange, but I hope you know me well enough to understand anyway…
I miss your mom for you. I never met her. I've only heard a few little stories and seen a few things that were passed down. But whenever I am so thankful for the help my mom has provided because otherwise I know how overwhelmed (or miserable) I would have been, I think of you. It always makes me thank God for my mom, try to appreciate the moments I have with her, and pray for you. And whenever I start to feel resentful that my mom is spread too thin and I don't have as much of her as I would like, I bite my tongue and pray for you. Because you would be so happy for two date nights a year and someone to call the when the sickness takes over YOUR body, not just the kids'. Perspective is an amazing thing. Knowing you causes me to be more thankful, less selfish, focus on truth, and pray more. So thank you. And I'm sorry. But I do end up praying for you (and some others I know in similar circumstances) frequently that God will be gracious and kind to you, and send people to love and serve you well like mamas seem to do.
lacey35
I've been meaning to reply to this. My apologies for taking so long.
It actually DOES make sense to me and make me feel better. I share my story about my mom so frequently because it's such a part of the threads that make up me – but also because I see so many people taking their mothers for granted and I'd love to have a hand in slowing that down, and making people aware and reminding them of the gifts in their lives.
I really think it's lovely that you remember to pray for me and I am incredibly honored that I could be a piece of what God uses to draw you to Him and to draw you away from yourself. That's incredible. Thank you.
And God is gracious and kind and has sent me people to love me and I am grateful.