Call Your Mother

My own mother is not in the greatest of health. She called me yesterday to tell me that her doctor has put her on home oxygen becasue she is not breathing too well. She tried to make light of it. Tried to say her doctor said it was no big deal. But I know better. I could hear the edge of fear in her voice. I could hear that it is a big deal. I know she doesn’t want to worry me, but I am.

My daughter is only almost two. Will my mother be around to see her get married? I worry about that. I pray she will, but I take it one day at a time. When I got married, I was so sad that my own grandmother was not there. Neither was my father, both had passed away years before. I hate to think of how much of my life they missed.

Sitting and listening to my mom yesterday, it made me realize just how precious and fleeting things are. I look around the world, and I see people worrying about bills, working too much overtime to make ends meet, shopping at the mall, driving too fast….and it all looks to me as though everyone is always in a hurry. Hurry up and get things done, too much to do, not enough time.

You have to make time for family. You absolutely have to do this. Sit down and make a list of what is truly important in your life. Your priorities. How high up does telling your husband and children that you love them rank on that list? How far does calling your family to say hello rank on that list? How high up does taking five minutes of your busy day to read a story to your children rank? Are your priorities out of whack?

Mine sometimes are. I admit it. There, the big secret is out. I am not the perfect mom. LOL. But, lucky for me, I have gotten a big old serious reminder. Of course I am not glad my mom is ill, but I am thankful that I have the chance to remind her how much I love her and that my children really know her. I have the chance to sit down and sort out my priorities and figure out what really matters most. So, the dishes slide another day. As the old saying goes, in a hundred years, who’s going to care what my kitchen looked like? Are people going to remember me for that? Doubt it.

I remember things like my mom making me chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches cut in perfect little triangles when I was sick. I remember laying my head on her breast and crying my heart out when I skinned up my face sledding. I remember the hours and hours she spent sewing costumes for plays and dance classes. I remember her sitting on the sidelines at every single soccer game. I remember telling her about my first crush. I remember hearing the delightful gasp come out of her when I announced she was going to be a grandma. I remember the look on her face when she held her grandsons and daughters for the first time.