Last night, my mother won a seat at Christ's Thanksgiving feast.
She had already polished the silver water goblets, placed the deep red table cloth on the table, and prepared her green bean casserole.
She is busy making sure that the carpet is vacuumed, that her hair is curled, and that the half decaf pots of coffee are spiced with a little cinnamon.
She has already called me to remind me what time to arrive at the house and chuckling that she knows that we will be late.
She is wondering if I will remember to bring the mac and cheese for the kids and busily answering the phone as it rings off the hook.
I can imagine that God has asked her to sit down several times, to relax and enjoy the communion with her father and her sister, but God surely knows that Mom will not sit down....she is too glad to be able to walk again, to use her hands to tend to those she loves. And, He certainly knows she is too stubborn to listen.
She is smiling and laughing, swaying back and forth as she listens to Elvis's "Blue Christmas" played live...maybe this is really why she won't sit down at the table yet....she is probably thrilled to see Elvis sing live instead of the fake Elvis from Johnny's Hideaway!
I know she is sorry that she cannot hug and kiss each of the grand kids as we arrive to the house in Atlanta. I know that she grieves for the sorrow that her mom and husband feel this morning. But I also know that she is healed, that she can dine at the table of Christ.
When I was little, my mom and I used to argue about days like this. She would have picked out my dress and Buster Brown shoes, along with new tights. I would drag myself into the kitchen in an outfit that I knew that she did not approve of, only to be turned back to my room for something more appropriate. I would have begged her to wear a fancy necklace or bracelet and rifled through her drawers for something sparkly. She would acquiesce, if I put on the lace frilly dress that I loathed.
As an adult, she would be in the kitchen when I arrived and usher the grand kids to the porch to play. She would offer me a cup of that horrible decaf coffee, and we would laugh about how I could smell the difference. She had a twinkle in her eye as she grinned and said it was indeed real coffee. And we would laugh knowing she was fibbing yet again.
She would ask me about work and the kids, but mainly about the kids. Were they doing okay in school? Was J enjoying reading yet? When was A's quiz bowl competition? When was A's cornucopia show and would he be dancing center stage? And then she would grow a little sad when asking about K, knowing that she might not remember her when she got older....
Mom was there when K was born. It was the first time that we allowed her in the delivery room. The hospital had been under strict orders to keep her out, because we knew that the doctors and nurses could not bear the 'direction' she would offer them. When A was born, she was on the other side of the door yelling to them to let her in...When the second was born, she was with dad as he recovered from surgery a few floors below. When J was born, she was with the first two, taking care of them for us. But with K, we had her in the room the whole time.
She cut the cord, and I saw a side of her that I had never seen. An amazing sense of pride and thankfulness.
So, today, my cord has been cut. And I feel that same sense of pride and thankfulness that I was able to have such a great mother, that God scooped me up and placed me in her loving hands. And now, she is in His hands.
So, Mom, sit down at the table. Stop worrying about the cinnamon buns in the oven and the drinks in people's hands. It is time for you to seat at the right hand of the Father and enjoy the feast of Thanksgiving at Christ's table. We are so thankful that you are free of this disease, that we had the time we had with you, and that you are healed.
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