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My Savior’s Love
I hear the piano music before I walk into sacrament meeting with my 13-year-old son. I’m wearing a hoodie, jeans and no make-up. My son, with an incision on his partially shaved head, wears hospital scrubs and pulls an IV pole. A woman with a kind face stands at the door and hands him a homemade fleece blanket. I think: this is what it feels like to be in the Twilight Zone. The familiar hymns remind me of church, but don’t erase the antiseptic smell nor the sterile, white walls of the hospital. I feel the sting of tears as we walk into a small auditorium at Primary Children’s Medical…
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Lights Along the Path
I sit on my front porch step, the brick still warm even though the sun is long gone. Oklahoma nights are neither cool nor quiet. I listen to the soundtrack of summer: cicadas (locusts) perform loud enough to drown out my reverie and then recede into the background. I am 16-years-old. I feel nostalgic and romantic as I watch the moonlight filter through the branches of the oak tree. My future husband is somewhere under this moon, I think. I picture my future: engaged, married, my first baby. My daydreams get me no further than being married with a couple of little kids. In my actual life, once I had…
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Ten Things I’d Share with Myself As A Younger Mom
I reflect a lot lately. I feel emotions wash over me with each wave of change, not the least of which is becoming an empty-nester. Grown and Flown. That’s what they call it. There are things I love about this stage of life. Scott and I have time together; we have a granddaughter. My kids are working toward their goals. They’ve added wonderful people to our family. I cook less; the house stays clean. My to-do list is shorter. I go to bed when I feel like it. I know how this sounds to harried, young moms with kids who are yelling on the other side of the bathroom door.…
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The Biology of Change
I’m in the car with my son, his wife and their daughter. They are moving from a place they love to a place they are meant to go. Almost everything is unknown. I am along to help with my granddaughter. Our drive takes us through a town where I spent 27 years. And my kids know I will savor the trip on Route 66 through my childhood. We pull off the highway. I direct them to the neighborhood where I grew up, but I miss the entrance. It looks so different. As we drive the tree-lined hill that leads to my home, time shifts to a summer day in the…
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The End Signals A Beginning
I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway. I begin a 14-hour drive to a college we visited once. She has a dream and she’s chasing it. I have a knot in my stomach and peace in my heart. I am at once happy, sad, excited, fearful and nostalgic. I am her mom. She travels to a beginning. I travel to an end. Her beginning leads to new friends, experiences, freedom, memories. My end leads to a house void of her laughter, her backpack on the floor, her school-day run home for lunch, her energy, her clothes pushing out the laundry chute, her friends. Her. When…
