Sometimes I wish I could go back to my childhood. Those days were so happy and carefree. Most days were filled with green grass and sunshine, laughter and hope, no cares or worries...just living life day by day. I never worried about tomorrow back then. As a child, I left that chore to my parents. They were the ones who made sure we had all the things we needed. They were the burden bearers. Whenever I did face a problem I couldn't handle, my mother was always close by. I was always amazed at the depth of her wisdom. She seemed to know a little of everything. I relied heavily upon her to answer all of my questions no matter how small and insignificant they were, she never made me feel embarrassed to ask them.
As I grew up and began my own family, I found myself calling her constantly on the phone. I would ask her for recipes, parental advice, and even marital advice. She always made time for me and often prefaced her answers with, "well, honey, if I were you, I'd...." Her advice was precious to me. I knew she had experience and her words could be trusted. She had never steered me wrong.
After my fourth child was born, I found myself calling my mother less and less. It seemed I'd gleaned a lot of wisdom and information from practical experience but also from books I'd read. I was beginning to feel like I "knew it all." I even found myself feeling a little cocky, like I didn't need my mother any more. There were periods of time I chose not to call her at all, even when I desperately needed advice. Pride made me not want to admit my lack of knowledge. Even though I knew she was only a phone call away, I chose not to pick up the receiver.
Yesterday, my brother texted me to let me know my mother was very ill. She's been in a nursing home for a while now and her health has been slowly declining. He mentioned that she was about to be taken to the hospital for tests to be run and as he did, I felt anxiety welling up within me. What if my mother were suddenly taken from us? What would I do? How would I feel? Since she'd been in the nursing home, I hadn't called for advice in a long, long time. Of course, I do make a point to check in with her every few days, but I hadn't NEEDED her as badly as I once had in the past.
I remember when I first told her I had Cancer. I had called the nursing home even though I knew that kind of news wasn't normally given over the phone. When she answered, I tearfully gave her the news. I could hear the pause in her voice. She knew I was scared...a frightened little girl again. At that very moment, I wanted my mother. I wanted her to enfold me in her arms and tell me that she loved me and that everything was going to be okay, but that didn't happen. The stark reality was she couldn't be there to comfort me any longer...well, at least not physically unless I traveled to the nursing home to see her, but what she could do was pray for me and she did just that. Her once strong and independent voice was now soft and a little tremulous. As she began the prayer, I closed my eyes holding the receiver tightly against my ear for fear of missing even one of her carefully selected words. Tears streamed down my face as she poured her heart into her prayer. When she was finished, I thanked her and silently, I thanked God for my mother.
At my weakest moments on this Cancer road, I find myself feeling like a motherless child. I feel alone and abandoned...uncared for and unattended. I find myself wishing I was a little girl again, able to hide behind my mother's apron. I wish I didn't have to face this challenge on my own. I wish someone else could do it for me...but I'm all grown up and I have to do this whether I want to or not. It would be nice to be a child again. To have my mother come and press a cool, damp washcloth against my brow as she did through many childhood illnesses, but now I take consolation in knowing that although she isn't able to be close by physically, she is always with me in spirit. Her love spans the distance between us. I know it must grieve her not to be able to comfort and walk through this journey with me.
As a mother myself, I know how I feel when my children need me and I can't be there to help. It's very painful and hurtful. There's nothing like a mother's love...it knows no bounds. No matter how old my children get, I still see them as they were when they were small. They are my pride and joy. I want to always be there for them. I love feeling needed, too. I am honored whenever one of them call me for advice or to ask me some question. I'm so thankful God gave mothers such wondrously large hearts. I feel sorry for children who grow up not knowing a mother's tender, unconditional love.
Sometimes I do feel like a motherless child but that feeling doesn't last too long. I've learned to realize when I feel this way, it's because I'm feeling overwhelmed and afraid. When I felt that way as a child, I knew I could always go to my mother for comfort and when she couldn't provide what I needed, she always pointed me to God.
It would be nice if our mothers never aged, wouldn't it? There's a cute children's book entitled "Love you forever," by Robert Munsch. It's a story I've read to my children and my grandchildren. The story details the cycle of life by chronicling the experiences of a young son and his mother throughout the course of the boy's life, and describing the exasperating behavior exhibited by him throughout his youth. In spite of her occasional aggravation caused by her son's behavior, the mother nonetheless visits his bedroom nightly to cradle him in her arms, and sing a brief lullaby promising to always love him. After her son enters adulthood and leaves home, his elderly mother occasionally sneaks into his bedroom at night to croon her customary lullaby. However she gradually grows old and frail, and her grown son visits his feeble, sickly mother for the final time. He sings an altered rendition of her lullaby in reciprocation of the unconditional love that she had shown him; vowing to always love her as she dies before him. After returning home in a scene implying the death of his mother, he cradles his newborn daughter and sings his mother's signature lullaby for her, implying that the cycle will continue.
The story is so precious and so sweet. It symbolizes exactly how I feel about my life. It's hard to think about health issues, aging, and dying but Cancer causes you focus more on that. No matter how old I get, I still want my mother around. I still need her to comfort and reassure me. I guess I'll always be a little girl at heart and I guess that's okay under the circumstances. I'm thankful that even though I sometimes feel like a motherless child, I'm have to remind myself that I'm actually not. My mother still loves and cares deeply for me and I know she always will. Mama's advice to me now would be to draw my strength from God and that's exactly what I do on a daily basis. I'm thankful that He is always understanding, loving and kind. He knows my little girl heart even though it's encased in a grown up body!
© bonnie annis all rights reserved
Listen to a beautiful version of "Motherless child"
