Always A Mom

Celebrating Christmas with Chris!

When I cradled my firstborn son Chris in my arms, I could barely imagine him as a toddler. It seemed even more remote that he would someday be a teen with a far-off- in-the-future graduation date (which now seems like ancient history). Even more difficult, was grasping that being a mom is a lifelong assignment—way beyond those short eighteen years when we have our children at home.

Sure, there are times when your mom-skills are more in demand. When your kids are young, it seems like you’ve signed on for a 24/7 job. You’re chronically sleep deprived and you don’t get any days off. Then there’s the reprieve of having little ones go off to school. Even though you may enjoy a few hours of freedom, their absence tugs at your heartstrings…the first time you wave good-bye when they climb on the school bus or they spend a night at their friend’s house or travel out-of-town for an athletic event. In a blink, that distant graduation date is here and now. As legions of moms who have gone before you, you learn how to let go of your almost-adult child, gently pushing them toward independence. Yet sometimes, you’re called on to step back into a role you had carefully tucked into your memory box.

Back on Duty

Last fall, Chris came to live with us after having complications from surgery. My husband Randy had accompanied him to an out-of-state specialist who was scheduled to perform the outpatient procedure. I reluctantly stayed home (a hard decision for a lifelong mom) to care for the family dogs—including Chris’ little canine. Randy’s initial report after surgery sounded positive. Chris was back at the hotel resting comfortably. Several hours later, Randy called to tell me he had taken Chris to the ER. They had admitted him to critical care for internal bleeding. I felt panic rise in my throat. “Should I come?”

Randy, who sounded shaken, tried his best to assure me. “I’m staying with Chris, so try not to worry. The doctor says he’s stable and out of danger.”

“Mom” and “worry” go hand-in-hand when a child is hurting—even one who is 40 years old. I reminded myself to trust God. When I couldn’t sleep, scriptures I had memorized when our sons were little flooded my thoughts: Trust in the Lord with all your heart… (Proverbs 3:5-6), Do not be anxious about anything…(Philippians 4:6-7). I trusted Randy to handle anything that came up. I prayed for him and Chris and thanked the Lord that he was there. Several days later, Chris was discharged from the hospital. He and his dad planned to drive to our home the next day.

The Blessing

When they arrived, Chris looked pale and fatigued. He struggled to walk from the car to the house. I tucked him into bed like I used to when he was a little boy. I kissed him on the forehead—trying not to let him see my tears. Chris felt too weak to get out of bed, so my instinctive “mom-care” kicked into high gear. “Do you want Jell-O or chocolate pudding? How about extra pillows or a heating pad?” I peeked in his bedroom door frequently to make sure he was doing O.K. Randy and I took turns sitting with Chris.

Slowly, there was progress. One day several weeks later, I came home from work to the aroma of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. Chris stood at the kitchen sink washing bowls and baking sheets. The following week, he asked Randy and me what we’d like for dinner that night. “Yay– we have a personal chef!” We felt elated to see Chris feeling better—not to mention being blessed by his culinary talents.

Three months later, Chris felt well enough to go home. Once again, I practiced those “letting go” lessons as the ache in my heart told me how much I’d miss him. Randy and I had been blessed to have Chris with us—an unexpected gift.

“Thanks for taking good care of me,” Chris said as we hugged good-bye.

How could I do anything less? It’s what moms do—not matter how old her child is.