Ninety-three years. Today is my mother's 93rd birthday, so Linda and I left right after Sunday School to drive the 2 1/2 hours to take her out to dinner. It was a surprise visit we had arranged with my brother and sister in law, so mom had no idea we were coming. I try to get up to see her every couple weeks. I had set that same kind of schedule when my father was still alive, but work too often got in the way. When he suddenly died from a cerebral hemorrhage on Father's Day three years ago, I felt bad that I hadn't done better at keeping my promise to myself to get up to their place on that bi-weekly schedule. I told myself back then that I wouldn't make the same mistake with my mother.
Mom at 93 is as sharp as ever, although she would dispute that statement. She's slowed down physically to where any outside excursions are limited to a single destination at a time, but she can still climb upstairs to my brother's. She says she sleeps a lot more, but also told us today that she feels guilty if she sleeps much past 8:00 am. Amazingly, she told me today that she has no aches or pains. Her joints don't bother her; her feet don't hurt. I'm nearly thirty years younger and wonder what is her secret. It takes me about five minutes hobbling around in the morning before I can walk somewhat normally.
It's not her health that calls to me tonight. It's her heart. She has been a rock of faith and love my entire life. It never even crossed my mind that she would ever have been unfaithful to dad, nor him to her. I didn't ever have to worry about substance abuse, child abuse, misplaced priorities. She isn't perfect, but came about as close as a mother could. My childhood was a combination of "Father Knows Best," and "Leave it to Beaver." There was a regularity to life that without explicit instruction taught me that life was orderly and God was in control. Some years ago I asked her what it was like for her to provide that kind of life for us. Turns out, it was harder than I had ever imagined. She sacrificed her own will, her own plans to provide for us a childhood that laid a foundation for life. I could go on with detail after detail, but I'll just declare how grateful I am for the mother I've been given for these many years. To be blessed with both quality and quantity is a rare gift. Happy Birthday, Mom!
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