Mother's Day--a reflection

This year I have been with my mother for Mother's Day. My mother is 94 and is drifting into the kind of dementia that all of us fear. She cannot see, cannot hear well and now cannot speak because the synapses just do not fire frequently enough for her to have a vocabulary. I arrived in Ft. Worth last week so that we could have a Mother's Day together. Something we have not had in many a year.

I found that her wardrobe had fallen afoul of the laundry gremlins at the assisted living place where she lives. So we needed to do something about that. We went shopping. Something that I always dread. We even went shopping for shoes. Through it all, even though she could not see what was going on, she tried on clothes, and shoes with good humor. Shoes are difficult in this part of the country. It is hard to find anything but sandals here. But on Sunday morning I arrived and she was dressed up in her new finery to go to Church.

Off to First Methodist Church. (I wouldn't get caught dead in an Episcopal Church in this diocese.) Mom has been a member at this huge church for many years. There were those who greeted her and were happy to see her. Sadly many of her Sunday School Class have already passed on, but new ones have taken their place. The sermon was on the faith of Lois and Eunice, the mother and grandmother of Timothy. The preacher did a nice job of it. Mom had me sing Faith of our Fathers in her ear so she could hear it.

We went out to lunch to a Mexican restaurant--she liked the spicy food which she doesn't get at the retirement center. And then back home for a nap. She slept for an hour or so but she didn't want me to leave. I watched TV for a while and then she wanted me to lie down next to her and talk. Slowly some of her words came back to her. Snuggled together we journeyed down memory lane remembering the small town in Missouri where she was born, the little town in Illinois were I was born, the time when my brother was born, her high school chums and Topeka, KS where she was married in 1930. She asked me why she couldn't remember the date. And I said that most people couldn't remember things for 77 years. Most people don't even live that long!

It was a tender and heart-warming time. I give thanks to God for a mother who I didn't miss the chance to snuggle with, didn't miss the chance to be mothered by, didn't ignore the chance to mother to and just be friends after all these years.

Alleluia, He is risen!