Friday, July 09, 2010

A short story about Mothering...


My mom and I, working together. She is the best mom ever, and I'm so glad I get to belong to her.

On the eve of John's birthday party I realized I was in way over my head. Projects in the house, and gearing up two kids for summer camp and EFY along with centerpieces, dirty dishes, outdoor tables and...you can get the picture.

I was not going to make it on my own. I said a little prayer. I didn't know what to do.

Then I felt this little feeling, "you can call your parents."

Let me tell you a little about my parents right now. My dad spends hours each week visiting with his aged father. Grandpa, so dear to all of us, is in his early nineties. He lost his wife last month. Many mornings he wakes up and doesn't remember she is gone. My dad's face is one of the few he recognizes again and again. My dad is carrying his father quite literally upon his shoulders.

My mom visits her father in a rest home 30 minutes from her house several days each week. Grandpa can no longer communicate well because of a disease which has taken away the functions of his muscles. He has to have help to eat, bathe, and move. My loyal and tender mother has done all she can to make his life comfortable and to make his life happy as he endures the end of his days.

My parents, both in their 60's, are the parents to a little 7 year old wonder. Bringing him, quite literally, out of the shadow of death, my parents meet Alex's every need with determination to help him progress and excel. Alex faces physical and social challenges every day, but my mom and dad are his mom and dad, and they are wonderful dutiful and loving parents.

So, when the feeling was "you can call your parents." I didn't want to trouble them. My problems were my own, and in the scheme of the broader picture they didn't matter much. Yet, as I worried more about the deadlines in front of me, I gave in to the tugging feeling and called mom and dad to come to my rescue.

And they rescued me indeed. Dad hung pictures. Mom did dishes. Daddy read stories to my little girls so they'd go off to sleep. And at 10 o'clock at night, after a hard evening's labor, they were there with me in the house when my sewage pipes overflowed

right on to the basement carpet...

right onto the laundry room floor...

Dad helped plunge the plug.
Mom helped me wipe up the sludge.
Daddy took Alex home to his bed, and mom stayed vigillently by my side until all we could clean up was cleaned.

You know, a few weeks ago my mom was crying. Sad she couldn't be "the mother she wanted" to be. Raising a little boy and caring for an aging parent puts my mom in the squeeze.

But that night, as we tried to laugh over bleaching the sink and wiping the floors, she was the perfect mother to me.

"you can call your parents." I'm so glad I listened to that little small voice.

3 comments:

Sharon said...

okay so now I'm crying.... great moms (and dads) run in the family, I see

Tyler said...

Hear, hear!

Jenny and Josh said...

They seem to "rescue" me on a daily bases!