Tribute to Mom …

I want to pay tribute to my mom. If not me, who? So I thank you for loving her, and me.

Mom struggled emotionally to leave the nursing home, when some of her children opposed it. She had it in her mind, aging but still wise, that if she worked hard and did well, they’d understand and “come around.” With faith and grit, at 92, she far exceeded the expectations of caregivers and physical therapists. She was even used at a conference, as an example of why they do what they do.

She went from diapers to pull-ups, from being seriously drugged and misdiagnosed to being prescription-free. They said it took a hoyer lift and two skilled technicians to get her in a wheel chair. She sits up on the edge of the bed now, grabs her walker, and walks to the bathroom, as well as the dining room, at least a few times a day. Yes, I’m hovering over her; but that’s part of loving her. I get to hug her, too.

Her anxiety has dropped dramatically, as she nurtures her spirit and her mind, as well as her body. She’s less apt to be irritable or defensive. She expresses confusion when she has it, knowing she can find her way through it. She reads, plays an intense game of Go Fish, can hardly resist turning the page for the next word puzzle, shoots her own little basketball, and she sings, “That’s the Hawaiian in me,” as she moves her hips in a circle, holding on to her walker.

The work may seem grueling, the progress unlikely. And we may not live to see others “come around.” But we will always reap what we sow. Love will always match our faith, our effort, our action. And for that, I am one grateful little girl.