Crying Hearts

Rewind of a Facebook Note written sometime in 2015

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I made Momma cry today.

Somewhere near the intersection of my trying to be helpful and Momma’s trying to remember, she snapped at me, shooed me away with the wave of her hand, blurting, “Get out of here! Leave me alone! Let me just try to think about one thing at a time!”

With more hurt and frustration in my voice than I intended, I retorted, “Alright Momma, I’ll leave you alone!” Retreating to the solitude of my former bedroom, I felt the door slam behind me, hot tears stinging my eyes, ready to gush at a moment’s notice. I really wanted to throw myself on my bed, bury my face in my pillow, scream and bawl, then drift off to sleep, leaving the nightmare of Mom’s advancing memory loss behind.

Instead, I stood there in the middle of the room and cried out to God. I was only in prayer for a minute or two, maybe even only a few seconds of time. But in that small measure of time, I felt God’s presence. He was speaking to me. Not in an audible voice, but in that place in the very core of your being where all of life’s decisions are made and emotions are felt. That place where you love. The heart.

God was reminding me He was there and that we would get through this together.

Gingerly opening my bedroom door and peeking down the hall, I spied my sweet Momma at the other end of the hall. She was right where I left her minutes ago, sitting in her favorite chair in the living room, quietly dabbing away her tears of confusion with great big wads of tissue.

Humbled in heart and quieted by the Spirit, I went to Momma, knelt in front of her, then wrapped her in my arms and said, “I’m so sorry, Momma.” My sweet mom put her arms around my neck in a motherly hug and laid her tearful, trying-to-remember weary head on my shoulder.

“Momma, Jesus will help us through this.”

“I know. I know,” acknowledged Momma with gentle, reassuring pats on my back.