Unless A Grain of Wheat....

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 
- John 12:24

I sort of wish I had a picture.  But it would have been highly inappropriate to take one.

A picture wouldn't do it justice either.  It couldn't capture the cramped feeling of the scarcely furnished room.  It couldn't capture the smells.  Oh the smells.  You couldn't hear the nurse call buttons ringing, the woman moaning in her wheelchair, or the man still carrying on about how we are both from Crichton all outside the hall.

But they we were.  The three of us.  Three generations.  Three daughters.  Three wives.  Three mothers.  Just us in this moment.

I watched as my Mama grabbed her Mama's hand.  Their hands and eyes locked together.  It was something to see.  Two women old by today's standards and yet my Mama looks so young here.  I listened as she talked.

Mama, it's Susan.  Remember me.  We have the same name.  It's Susan.  Mama, I love you.  I love you so much.  You were a good mama.  You were such a good mama.  Jesus is waiting for you.  Jesus loves you, Mama.  I love you, Mama.

Big Mama spoke only one word, "Daughter."  She knew.

It was my time to talk.  I fumbled with what to say.  My mind is racing through my catalog of memories spent with my grandmother.  Times at her house in Chickasaw...dressing up in her wigs and costume jewelry, playing cards, walking up the street to the Easy Greasy Store for Mickey Mouse ice cream.  I grew up...got busy...got important...grew so smart...or so I thought.  Our time together waned.  These memories and regrets seem too private, so I talk much like my own mama.

Big Mama, it's Anne.  I love you.  All my boys love you.  Chris, Philip, Daniel, William Tift, and John Dawson love you.  I wish you lots of peace.

And in my head, I sing the Catechesis song that I sang silently at my father-in-law's hospital bed.

Go now in peace.  Go now in peace.  May the love of God surround you.  Everywhere.  Everywhere.  You may go.

All too soon our visit is over.  There are four little boys I must get back to.  Must trudge on mothering them.  But for a moment I witnessed something pretty special.  Love between a mother and her daughter.

And in that moment, I glanced to my future.  To my own time when I will have to say goodbye to my own sweet and gentle mama.  There will be no hesitation in my voice when I say, Mama, it's Anne.  I love you.  You were a good Mama.  You were such a good Mama.

And then to my own time.  I pray my boys are there with wavering voice.  Mama, it's Philip, Daniel, William, John.  I love you, Mama.  You were a good Mama.

It's all I'll need to hear.

I'm a little changed by today's events.  A little softer.  As I tuck my boys in bed, I am filled with a sense of what a precious gift this life of a mother is.  And as my youngest wimpers from his bed, I want Mommy.  I don't ignore him tonight.

I go to his dark room.  I grab his hand.  I look in his eyes.  And I say.  John, it's Mommy.  John, I love you.  You are such a good boy, John but it's time to go to sleep.  Mommy loves you.

And he replies, I love you, Mama Birdie.  

All I need to hear.