"Make your parents proud, especially she who gave you birth.” -- Proverbs 23:25
On his way to the florists to wire flowers to his mom, John reminisced. Memories of his loving mother wafted back to him like the aroma of freshly baked bread.
He remembered mom walking her three “cubs” to elementary school into a blizzard wind so strong, she clutched their small hands for fear they’d blow away. Then she walked back home in the icy cold. Sometimes he waited for Dad to go to bed so he could talk with her privately – like when she consoled him after breaking up with his high school sweetheart. She even sent him self-addressed envelopes in college so that he’d write back to her about his latest achievements.
As a boy, John was a handful. She forgave him when he broke three windows in the same day on different sides of the house. And when he carelessly spilled India ink on the beige carpet – he thought he might have to leave home permanently. She was quick to forgive, even when as “pirates,” they couldn’t remember where they hid her jewelry.
She kept every single handmade gift – the tin can lid Christmas bells, multicolored ceramic angels, and popsicle picture frames – she cherished every single one.
Alzheimer’s grips her now. She can no longer speak and doesn’t recognize family members. But she seems content in her own little world.
John agonizes over mood swings that range from emotional highs of love and respect to the depths of resentment and frustration. Mostly there is just heartbreak at witnessing this once brilliant woman lose herself within her own failing body.
Her hollow eyes reveal an empty palette. Months ago he decided to let her go; to remember how she used to be. His wife pleads with him to visit her before it’s too late. But in John’s mind – it’s already too late. He’ll send Mom a beautiful bouquet instead to celebrate their 57th Mother’s Day.
The sight of the florist snaps him back to real time. As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb crying. He stops briefly and asks what’s wrong. "I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother,” she sobbed, “But I’m a whole dollar short.”
John smiled. "Come in with me,” he motioned. “I'll buy you a rose." And so he did . . . and ordered a lovely floral arrangement be shipped to his dear Mother also.
He offered the girl a ride home. She accepted but directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the solitary rose on a freshly dug grave.
John returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother's nursing home to deliver it in person.
Alzheimer's can't destroy the bonds between people. Whether she remembered him or not, it will never change the love they once shared.
Alzheimer's can't destroy faith either. If we view the disease as people rotting away, then we too will suffer futility and despair. But, picturing our loved ones pain-free, in the gentle arms of Jesus, provides us hope despite the agony of the journey getting there.
“Gracious Father, thank you for Moms and Dads. They prove that love cannot be destroyed by suffering - and that the only way to truly be happy . . . is to make others so. Amen.”
