The Love of a Mother...

I woke up Sunday morning to a voice mail from my mom, letting me know that my uncle, her brother, had passed away Saturday night. Though sad to hear, I knew he hadn't been doing well for several years so in a way, I felt a sense of peace in knowing that he had finally passed on and was no longer suffering the ills of this mortal life.

As I went to church I found myself unable to focus on the lessons and talks of the day. Instead my mind was turned toward my uncle and then toward my grandma. My uncle was a very good man but he wasn't a perfect man. He, like most of us, had his share of struggles. But my grandma never gave up on him. She never stopped loving him, never stopped praying for him. Several years ago things got to the point where he was struggling to care for himself. He moved back in with my grandma and she started caring for him again. Eventually it became too much for her and she, along with her other kids, thought it best to put him in a nursing home. She visited him nearly every day and her other children each took one or two days a week to drive her there. For years she did this; always continuing to show her love for her son and never wanting him to be alone.

The minute church was over I jumped in my car and drove straight to my grandma's who, by the way, turns 90 this year. When I walked in the door she immediately threw her arms around me and we just stood there hugging each other for about a minute. I asked her how she was and she ushered me to a chair where, for the next 40 minutes, we sat and talked. We laughed together and we cried together. She mentioned more than once how she felt like she had "been put through the ringer". She said she thought her other kids were doing okay but "it's different when you're the mother" as she put it. She and her other children were with my uncle when he died which brought peace to her heart, and mine, knowing that he hadn't died alone. My uncle didn't have a wife or family of his own and Grandma was always worried about him being alone, having nobody to look after him. It brought tears to her eyes, and mine, as she expressed her gratitude in knowing that Grandpa is with him now and that he'd have someone there on the other side. She also told me how happy she was to find a cemetery plot next to some other loved ones so he wouldn't be buried all alone either. I sat there in awe of this woman. Even in her son's death she worried about him being all alone. That is the true love of a mother.

It was a remarkable 40 minutes with my grandma, to sit with her in her time of sorrow and still be able to learn from her example. She raised a family where, despite everything else, love always prevailed. That's the kind of mother I hope to be.

my grandma holding her 35th great-grandchild on her blessing day.