Glimpses of grace

The following was read by me at my mother's funeral Mass on January 12, 2007:

John Lennon once wrote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re making other plans.” So while I knew that one day I’d be standing in this place, I was busy making other plans that all included having mom around.

We’re never ready to give up our parents. Never ready to let go of the last vestiges of the people who knew us from the moment of conception. Knew all of our stories and secrets, our loves and heartbreaks, our strengths and weaknesses, our successes and failures. And they loved us in spite of it all.

And love is what brings us here tonight. Love for mom, love for each other—family and friends. And over the last three years, since Mom moved to South Carolina, that love has shown me how overwhelming God’s grace can be.

In the Old Testament, the term for grace came from a group of Hebrew words: One of them means a spontaneous gift of affection; another means mercy and compassion.

For Christians—and Catholics in particular—God’s grace is best explained as divine favor. It’s a gift, given to us by God, bestowed freely on those of his own choosing.

So, I stand here before you tonight to share with you the glimpses of grace God has given me through my journey with mom.

There are three distinct phases in which this grace manifested itself to me.

First, the way we got Mom to move from Johnson City to Greer: a miracle in and of itself.

I was attending the funeral of Love Deaderick, my friend Pat Hardin’s mother, in October 2003. Love’s final gift to me was to allow me to be there when I witnessed Mom having a stroke.

The stroke led to a surgery which left mom unable to live on her own, and her doctors, Evans and Colyar, were able to write medical orders requiring her to be in an assisted living situation. This was an answer to our prayers. We had long been worried about mom living in the old homestead, trying to manage the upkeep of the house and property and the isolation of being alone for the first time in more than 50 years.

With the help of dear friends like George and Mary Ruth Campbell, Liz and Ray Hughes and our cousin Jeanne Jones, Mom was able to stay at home for a while after Papa died, but none of us kids were comfortable or convinced of her health and safety.

Once we achieved the move to Oakleaf and mom adjusted, the graces continued throughout the second phase:

• Mom had a wonderful group of friends


• She began to sew again


• She learned to play bridge—and was one of the best players
  ·


• She was on the resident’s council
  


• She took dancing lessons
  


• She learned Tai Chi
  


• She took care of the birds outside
  


• She walked every day
  
  

And in this short three years, mom built a life for herself that included so many wonderful people, and so many activities. We often joked among ourselves that Mom spent more time socializing than she did sleeping.

She was always ready to go somewhere, whether it was going for ice cream, coming with me to tennis clinics or participating in church and residential programs. When she greeted you, it was with a big smile on her face, and when she left you, it included a hug and the words I love you on her lips.

I got so used to this life, the one that included Mom as an integral part of my family in South Carolina, that I wasn’t ready for the final phase: Realizing that Mom had cancer and only had a few weeks to live. But God knows what he’s doing, and He does it in His own time. And, through His mercy, the graces continued to multiply.

I am grateful for the kindness of Dr. Yarborough who accompanied mom to her ultrasound and so tenderly gave us the devastating news. And, for his immediate and compassionate understanding of her dementia and how her illness should not be lived over and over every day. For his determination that we could help her make the most of the time she had left and to let her do as much or as little as she wanted.

I am indebted to the staff at Oakleaf who cried when they heard about mom’s terminal condition, and who said they would be honored if we would bring her home for her final days…

I am awed by her friend CeCe who visited mom every day, knowing that yet another friend was going to be gone soon. I’m humbled by the fact that Cece wanted to be near mom because as death hovered, Mom was closer to God…

I am overwhelmed by her friend Patty for her joyful spirit and innocent prayers and who, in her blindness, couldn’t see how mom was deteriorating.

I am aware of God’s own sense of humor when Mom caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and instead of seeing the signs of illness, was only concerned with how her hair looked…

I’m appreciative of the Oakleaf nurses who rearranged their schedules to sit for mom at night…That they were by her side any time she needed, when we needed them, offering support, care and most of all, love.

I’m thankful that my friends were and continue to be a constant source of support. That Denise was going to come and be with Mom when no one else could be here…

That Pat would call to cry and pray with me, for her guidance to remember and live my self-imposed mantra during Mom’s illness: let go and let God

That God allowed us to see through Mom’s eyes the day before she died. Any time someone came into the room, Mom cry and say, “Oh, you look so beautiful. You look like an angel.” I’m convinced that she was no longer seeing us in our human form, but was seeing through to our souls, our transfigured selves.

But most of all, I am certain that the one time Mom did experience pain for three hours—just as Christ suffered for three hours on the cross—I caught a glimpse of His grace when He showed us how merciful He was being by alleviating the suffering that comes with pancreatic cancer.

And now, as we prepare to commit Mom to her final resting place on earth, I believe God’s mercy and kindness continue to bring blessings. And in these graces, He reveals himself to me in special ways:

That my father died on the first Sunday of advent, and mom died on the last day of the Christmas season;

The day my mother was born into her new life in heaven is the same day my friend Pat’s mother—whose death was the impetus for this series of gracious moments—was born into her life on earth;

That the dementia I so despised and resented was truly a gift from God in that Mom never remembered from day to day how sick she was these last three weeks;

That I was finally able to have the relationship with Mom that I yearned for my entire life. And the B-word mom was so afraid of becoming—a burden—was in fact, for me, a blessing. To care for her in her final days as she cared for me in my first days.

As I say goodbye to Mom tonight, I want to express my thanks to God for so many things:

For mom herself: that she’s now with my father, her soul mate and husband of 56 years

That her dementia is gone, forgotten and all of her questions have been answered.

That my oldest sister, Suzanne, received closure, and that her last words to mom were, “I love you, too. Can I give you a hug?”

That my brother, David and my younger sister, Liz, were able to see how mom had come into her own while living in South Carolina, was loved and cherished by so many and was happy for the first time in a long time.

That my husband, Dave, who loved my mother as much as he did his own, was able to be there for her not just when she died, but when she lived…

And for me, while I am living the life that happens while I’m making other plans, the sorrow of losing mom can only be understood in the gift God continues to give me: glimpses of grace.