I cover my mother’s face with kisses for the last time and
quietly close the hospital room door. Everyone else has left.
The reality of it all settles like thick molasses all over
my soul. I feel my heart explode into a
million pieces as fat hot tears flood down my face, splatter onto the tile
floor and roll away. My sweet, sassy, funny
mama is gone. My best friend. I don't know how to live life without her.
I feel grief so overwhelming that I can barely stand. I close my eyes for a minute and simply lift
my face to heaven and wonder how to live without my mama.
Somehow, I manage to put one foot in front of the other and
start down the long corridor of the ICU toward home. I am walking in quicksand.
I see her down the hallway.
Standing erect, large strong hands clasped in front of her. She is
dressed in a simple, short sleeved, brown tweed dress, beige low-heeled pumps
and a single strand of pearls. Her
closely cropped reddish hair accents a face that is the color of a caramel
latte, rich and creamy, with full lips painted in red and dark sparkling eyes. She is tall with long arms and an ample bosom.
She is watching me expectantly as I slowly make my way
toward that end of the hall. My weeping
doesn’t seem to surprise or embarrass her and my tears do not stop.
Just as I step right in front of her, she looks at me, eyes
filled with compassion, and she says softly, “God is still good.”
I keep walking.
Trying to understand how she can say that when He just took away my
mama.
I round the corner toward the elevator just out of her
sight. Suddenly, I stop and whirl
around, running back to the stranger who thinks that God is STILL good. I fall into her arms and she catches me. Her strong and soft body envelopes me and I
realize she is quite literally holding me up.
She smells like warm honey and butter and all that I can think is that I
want my mama. I want my mama.
She holds me close and I bury my face into her neck and she
immediately starts to pray. “Father, I
don’t know her circumstances, but you do and I ask for grace and peace for
her. For mercy and rest…”
I don’t hear all of her prayer, but I feel it. I am safe and comforted in her arms and I immediately
know that she has held many broken souls.
She always will.
She gently but firmly pulls me away from her soft body,
looks deep into my swollen red eyes and says, “Everything will be ok. He is
faithful.”
I nod my understanding of what she just said, stand up
taller and straighter than before and head toward home.
I think of an old hymn that seems to fit just right….
We are standing on Holy Ground
And I know that there are angels
All around
Let us praise Jesus now
We are standing in his presence
On Holy Ground
My mama met Jesus today and I met an angel.
Hebrews 13:2 Psalm 91:11
