One of my brothers was born in April and April 15th has long been a happily anticipated date for my family. It is the date that my father and my sister can finally quit working the loooooong week day hours and Saturdays of tax season.
Thank God for funny kids and funny co-workers who are more family than co-workers. I work in a place where something funny happens every day and that is a great place for people that need humor to survive.
I have been trying all week to chase away the sad with humor. Although it has helped me to keep tears at bay in front of little children it has been an epic battle.
The sad is a formidable foe that squeezes through the chinks in my armor more insidiously than a rumor spread during prayer requests in a Baptist church.
April has become a month of sad anniversaries.
The saddest being the anniversary of my mother's death here on earth.
While I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that my mother lives in heaven with Jesus now I still grieve her loss.
The grief is sometimes calmer now but there continue to be days when it slams into me like an F5 tornado wiping away every trace of composure I have managed to build.
There are still days when I reach for my phone once I am on my way home from work only to realize that once again I am automatically dialing her number.
And every.single.time. I walk through difficulty, pain or crisis I long for her presence and her words.
My mother told me once that she was afraid she would die of cancer as had so many of her relatives. I don't think it was a fear she dwelled on and she probably didn't even remember telling me. I never forgot though and her diagnosis was a silver shard of ice that pierced my heart.
She was sick for so long.
She went to the doctor time after time looking for answers.
I worried so much.
I wished I lived close enough to be able to run by her house on the way home for work. Not because I thought she wasn't being taken care of but because I am a person who's soul can't rest until I lay eyes and hands on the one I worry about.
Sixteen days.
It is all the time I had with Mama after the diagnosis.
It was not enough.
I was not done with her.
The old saying that God never gives you more than you can handle is untrue.
Losing her so quickly was far more than I could handle.
I wanted to listen to the waves with her one more time.
One more time I wanted to watch her slip her toes underneath a half buried sea shell and flip it over to see if it were worth bending over to pick up.
I wanted to sit together quietly once more. Each of us reading a good book.
I wanted to to hear her call me her precious angel a thousand more times.
Yes, I do believe that God allows us to be burdened with far, far more than we can handle.
It is part of this thing we call life.
The good news is that He is just one prayer away.
My mama taught me that.
Anyone who thinks that I could have taken care of my mama those last days and held her hand as she took those last breaths all by myself is crazy as a kid full of Easter candy.
It was the hardest and yet the most holy time of my life.
As I walk through another tough April I remind myself that all I have to do is put one foot in front of the other and remember to ask for help when I need it.
My mama taught me that too.
Just sayin'...............................
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