BTA - Mothers Day Style

It's been about twenty years since my mom passed away from cancer. Started out as lung cancer and spread to her brain from there. It was not pleasant to say the least. I know, why am I blogging about something that would seem so depressing on such a day of celebration? The reason is simple, I wanted to take a moment to honor someone who took the term mother to another level, DC.

My mom came to live with us for the last three months or so of her life. Mom was frail from the moment she was assisted through the front door and no one, except God, knew how long she had left to live. She was just a shell of the lady she once was, chemo had taken its toll on her outward beauty. I can remember the very first night, when mom tried to make it to the bathroom by herself, and fell trying to sit down. I can imagine how she must have felt humiliated by having to be helped to even go to the bathroom. It was not long until mom was bedridden, wearing diapers and barely able to consume any nutrition. Her hair was long gone. Her body rail thin. Her mind, well it too was ravaged by the cancer. Often mom would sit up and hurl insults or shout curse words to those trying to help, but she had no idea what she was doing. It was not mom speaking, it was the disease that had overtaken her. It was not a pretty site.

But there was DC taking care of her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. DC was there when no one else was, talking to mom, listening when mom could talk. I don't know all that was ever said, but I am sure mom was greatly comforted by her. DC was there, fixing different foods, trying to get mom to eat anything, trying to get her to sip her Ensure. Usually there was no success, mom just didn't taste anything. I imagine that could have been very frustrating, I know to me it would have been. DC? She just kept trying. Can you imagine what it is like, as an adult, to have to have someone change your diapers? To be so helpless that you have to be cleaned up by another? Not the most pleasant of tasks for the caregiver either. But there was DC, day and night, without fail or complaint, doing just that.

I can remember the night mom died. I had been able before to make sure she knew Jesus and was ready to go, and she was. I can't prove this, but I am as sure of this as anything I know, that mom knew Jesus because she had seen Him taking care of her for the last three months. For DC looked past all the unpleasantness of the tasks, the smells of looming death, the times of cursing and simply loved mom. My mom, she loved my mom as only Jesus could. I am sure there were times when DC was exhausted, physically and mentally. But she continued on. DC helped my mom to live out her last days with dignity, when all dignity was gone. And like DP with Harold on an earlier blog, Jesus wept, leaned forward and whispered to DC: 'thanks for feeding my sheep'

Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy. My mom had nothing to give in return, but DC gave her mercy and love. Just as Jesus does.