Remembering Mother

My mother went to be with the Lord 30 years ago next month. In many ways, it seems incredible that so much time has passed.

Suffering a massive stroke when she was still fairly young, my mom never fully recovered. She was able to speak - fortunately - but her left arm was completely paralyzed and she regained only partial use of her left leg. 

After a few years, she deteriorated to the point where she was bedridden. Her world became quite small indeed, limited as it was to her bedroom. 

Though my parents had been very active at their church, she received few visitors. There was no ministry for shut-ins when she first became ill, so except for our Pastor, she didn't have much contact with anyone outside of the immediate family.

It's easy for someone to be forgotten. They don't show up for church anymore - because they can't - and soon they just drop off the radar. 

It's not malicious. It just happens. 

It's also true that the prospect of visiting with someone who has suffered a catastrophic illness can be daunting. Awkward. What shall I say? How shall I act? So people don't come. 

Be that as it may, an extremely difficult situation was made even more so. Afraid to leave her alone, my father stopped going to church for quite a while. My folks were cut off from what was most important to them.

This changed when two ladies from the congregation volunteered to take turns bringing my mom audio recordings of the service each week. (This was long before streaming...) Although neither of these women had known my mom prior to launching this ministry, they became fast friends with her.

They could have simply dropped off the tape, exchanged a few pleasantries, and been on their way. Instead, they'd sit and talk: sharing updates about their families and laughing at jokes. 

Those ladies were angels. Truly. They were lifelines for my mother - and by extension, for my dad. 

The husband of one of those women befriended my father and invited him to the men's Bible class. By then my mom had stabilized to the point where she could be alone for short periods of time. Mom encouraged Dad to go; she assured him she'd be okay for the hour or so he'd be away.

Soon Dad once again began attending Sunday services. 

Those ladies continued to visit with my mother until she died - and after that, they maintained their friendships with my father until he died. 

What a profound impact those two women had on my folks - and it all grew out of something so simple: volunteering to bring audio tape recordings to my mom.

God works in wonderful ways.