Magic Number

Mom Linda Easter

Yesterday was my annual mammogram. This day takes on an added importance when you have lost a mother to breast cancer.

The smells of the hospital, sounds of gurneys moving about and the whir of machinery take me back in time. Even eight years after losing my Mother, my five senses pick up and transport me back to uncomfortable memories. I’m a daughter hoping for a few more days with my beloved Mom.

Jean Parvin was a warrior and fought cancer to the end. The hospice staff considered sending her home because Mom had become the longest patient at the center. In my Mother’s world, every day mattered, even at the end when it was time to go. She just couldn’t give up. I admired that about her while still wishing her a peaceful journey.

One time Mom looked at me and said, “I always wanted to live to be 80.” It was the first time she uttered those words aloud. Soon thereafter she added, “But, I know I have drawn the short end of the straw.” She was 77.

From the beginning of her 15-year battle with this vile disease, we had agreed to talk openly with one another. So, we talked together and admonished the oncologist to always be honest with us both. It was a good decision.

I’m not a quitter and Mom wasn’t either. She just ran out of time and ran short of her 80-year age goal.

Yesterday, I sat in the waiting room saying the Lord’s Prayer. I didn’t want special favors; I just wanted to feel Mom’s loving spirit again…just a magic moment with her. That moment arrived when they told me I was clear for another year and I swear I could feel her presence in the room with me.

Thank you Lord Jesus for my Mother who taught me how to live and taught me how to die. I am deeply blessed.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12

Falling Back…

home-top-photo-st-marg-church_22I love fall. Just as I watch the sky darken, the leaves change into a variety of majestic colors and the earth prepare for frost, fall signals a time of reflection for the past year and an awareness of the coming Advent season.

In short, fall is my favorite time of the year.

Each Fall I travel to the Blue Ridge and I return to the beautiful mountaintop church where my daughter was married. It was the last time my entire family was together before losing my Mom to cancer. I take a moment to go inside and sit on the very pew I shared with my parents and thank God for loving memories. My favorite is when Dad held my hand as my daughter walked down the aisle to meet her groom. Dad gave me a gentle squeeze as he asked me if I was OK. It was a loving gesture and so typical of my Father.

When I sit in that pew, I can still feel his presence although Dad has since joined Mom and gone home to glory. It’s a great memory of a happy time. If my earthly father was so amazing, how much more wonderful will it be to meet my heavenly Father?

As the air turns crisp and the leaves begin to glide down to the ground, I am reminded of my continual growth and change as I work toward a more mature faith. There is so much sin to release and so much good to reflect upon. God’s grace is sufficient and He guides me like a falling leaf and catches me safely in His arms.

For another season, I soar in His love and I look forward for what is yet to come.