What makes my mama unique from any other? Her uniqueness
is not found in food, laughing, dancing, or even in storytelling. (I really laughed out loud at those descriptions.)
Her uniqueness is found in the difficult, lonely, and mundane events.
It’s a mom’s worst nightmare. A sick, hurting
baby, and a refusal from the medical world to offer answers. Days turned to
weeks and weeks to months and this tiny infant was only getting worse. And my
fearful mama was dealing with it alone. She
comforted and caressed, but even the love of a faithful mama cannot mend a
broken body.
Doctor after doctor turned her away, and she sought
the only one left to listen: Almighty God. His answer came through a young
intern. The most unexpected and under qualified used that stethoscope and the
ears of God to hear the imperfection within. There was something wrong with the
heart, and surgery was impertinent.
No mama could ever imagine her nine-month-old whisked
away; being wheeled into that cold room to be cut wide open, heart completely
removed from the struggling little body. And my mama’s heart was broken along with my
own. Yet, in the brokenness she found comfort and hope in a God she hadn’t seen,
but desperately cried out to.
Flash forward over half a decade and you’d find
her rushing to the stage at the front of a gymnasium to rescue her scared
little girl from the eyes of hundreds of onlookers. Or you’d glimpse her tediously
pedaling an old bicycle, infant seat attached, determined to get her baby girl
to a birthday party. We stayed only long enough to offer a gift and there we
went, peddling back home. I think she knew I’d be too shy to stay, too scared
to be left alone.
Years later, on the day of my 14th birthday,
there was my faithful mama, comforting me in a post-op hospital room. I was
throwing up, I was in pain, and the jello only made me nauseous. The dry heaves
were unbearable. She arrived in my room famished, carrying a grease covered bag
of deep fried food and carbs. No, it wasn’t for me, and no I wasn’t supposed to
have it, but one look at my face and she quickly handed over her only meal.
Nothing was said to the hospital staff.
I know this is supposed to be a five minute
response, but who can reminisce about a mama for only five minutes? I could go
on and on. Couldn’t you? She’s always been there for me and she continues to be
my mama, even at the age of 33. Just yesterday she offered comfort only a mama
can insisting I use her pillow as I lay useless on the couch in a sick heap.
No, she’s not perfect. Yes, we’ve had our struggles, and yes, there were times
I doubted her mothering abilities (she’d be the first to admit she’s no chef,
and I recall numerous visits to Little Caesar’s and Arby’s for dinner).
How is my mom unique from any other? She’s a rescuer. She’s compassionate and all
heart. Her love is effortless and sacrificial. She’s a helper- sometimes an over-the-top and a you’re-not-letting-them-learn-from-their-mistakes-and-difficulties
kind of helper, but a helper nonetheless. And I love this mama of mine like I
love no other.
You’ve always loved me, Mom. You’re heart has been
broken and mended even as mine has. Yet, you continue to willingly hand it over
without question or hesitation. Thank you, Mom!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today’s your turn. What did your
mama do that makes her your mama? Let’s unpack those memories today. Let’s
trace our fingers along the lines of the unexpected. The ordinary beauty in a
day of motherhood. The food or the laughing or the dancing or the story
telling.
Where
is your memory buried?
In
just five minutes. Tell me all
about what your mama did that
made her yours….
{and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you}
{and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you}
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