My mom

Moms teach us many things… good, bad, and different.

 

As many of you know, my mom was hyper-competitive when she played games.  Seemingly never letting us win, even when it was Candyland and we were just learning to walk and talk.

 

I definitely inherited that gene from her, and find it hard to not play to win.  Over time, though, I’ve been learning that this is both good, and bad.

 

And… as for different? 

 

Gee… ever heard of red cake?  Not red velvet cake.  Red cake.  Cooked icing and all.  Every birthday!  Even your first.  Yeah, that was mom too.

 

But, maybe one of the most striking things I learned from mom happened recently, and even again yesterday, on the day she died.

 

As Parkinson’s ravished her body, and mind, mom wasn’t very coherent, or seemingly aware of life, what was going on around her, not even loved ones nearby.

 

But in the midst of her rambling confusion and pain, mom did one thing again, and again, and again.  She cried out…

 

Help me, Jesus.

 

Not once or twice.  Not tens or hundreds of times.  But thousands of times during the end of her adventure here.

 

In her need, in her confusion, her heart and mind clung to Jesus.

 

I could do no better.  I can do no better.

 

And, so, today, in my moment of need… missing my mom…  I cry out…

 

Help me, Jesus.