Sunday, May 13, 2012

I want to extend a big hug to those of you that are celebrating Mother's Day without your mother today.  My birth mother wasn't up for the challenge of raising me, so my grandparents took me in and raised me as if I was their own child. 

Fast forward many years, and you will find Mama and I parked under a tree at a park that was near her house.  Every night after supper, I picked her up, and we went for a ride in my truck.  We went through our favorite drive through window to get a fountain drink, and then took a tour of our little town.  Mama couldn't see or walk very well, but she liked to get out of the house, and this gave us a chance to talk about whatever had gone on with us throughout the day.  Mama healed many family issues from the passenger side of my truck. 

Gas prices started to get the best of us, so we cut our rides short, and started taking our drinks to the park.  We sat on a park bench in the fresh air, and just enjoyed being there.

It wasn't long before it became too dangerous to try to walk Mama from the truck to the park bench, but she really valued our time together, so we stayed in the truck, parked under a tree.  Mama couldn't see well enough to read anymore, so I started bringing books with us for me to read out loud.  Some books taught us more about God and what we had to look forward to.  Other books made us laugh until tears streamed down our faces. 

One particularly late night, Mama started telling me about her life and things that she wished that she had done differently.  She confessed her sins and told me about how badly she missed her brothers and sisters that had already gone home.  Then, she asked, "If you could come back, what would you have different?"  I thought for a long time.  It was hard to decide, because so many aspects of my life had room for improvement.  Finally, I said, "I would like to have less emotional pain."  She said that she could certainly understand that.  Then, I said, "Remember when you thought that I was on drugs when I was in school?"  "Yeah," she replied.  "You just couldn't accept the fact that I was just a dumb kid.  I've never even had a cigarette!"  Mama turned to look at me, and then we both laughed so hard that people were passing by and looking at us as if we had finally cracked. 

1 comment:

  1. I know your childhood wasn't the easiest, but you are one of the ones who realized it didn't have to continue and you didn't pass it down. You broke the cycle. I am proud to be able to call you my friend. Thank you for sharing this story, your story.((hug))