mothers

The Blanket

It’s 2 AM as I finally crawl into the hotel bed after sitting on the floor for almost 3 hours. Hugh’s blood sugar has plummeted after a long day at a school convention out of town. As hard as I try, his blood sugar stubbornly careens to levels that would put a grown man in the hospital. 

I give him 4 juice boxes to bring it up as I crouch next to the air mattress he is sleeping on. He wakes up on his second juice box, nauseated and disoriented from the crashing low. I bring a trash can over to his bedside. I wipe his forehead with my hands. I shove candy into the side of his mouth so it will absorb through his cheeks. 

He tells me he feels horrible, like his entire body is on fire. He groans and grits his teeth. I tell him he’s ok, that his blood sugar will be coming up soon. I don’t completely believe what I’m telling him. My hands are shaking, but I don’t want Hugh to see that, so I quickly tuck them under my legs. 

I google when I should administer the life-saving glucagon we carry with us at all times – the medicine I give him if his body loses the fight with his blood sugar. I know the answer, of course. I don’t need google to tell me it’s only when he is unconscious. But I do it anyway. Because I feel lost and scared and somehow, google knows all the answers. 

Slowly, painfully, Hugh’s blood sugar begins to rise. He is safe for now. Three hours of sitting on the floor has caused my joints to stiffen. I limp as I stand up. 

I feel his face one more time before I collapse into bed. I brush my hands over his forehead, his cheeks, his hair. He’s ok. We will sleep for a few hours before waking up at 7 for another full day of activities. We won’t tell anyone about the scare this night. Not because we don’t want to talk about it, but because no one will really understand. 

As I lay with my cheek on the pillow, facing Hugh in case he needs me again, I feel it once more. Anger. Hot, boiling, seething, red anger – and it settles around me like an old, heavy blanket. Cumbersome and oppressing, yet familiar and comfortable. 

I’ve worn this blanket before. And sometimes it feels good to wrap it around me. It feels deserving – even justified. 

I’m angry at myself, for missing the cues that Hugh was dropping low. Good heavens, Sally. You would think after 9 years of doing this you could get it right. You should be able to keep him safe. How could you have let this happen? 

I’m angry at you – all of you who don’t have to live this life. Everyone who sleeps soundly at night with no alarms and no blood sugar checks. All of you who have healthy children. My anger burns hot toward the naive and the un-tested. 

And I’m angry at the Man Upstairs, who could allow this to happen to an innocent child. A child who only deserves good and pure things in this world. What kind of God gives this burden to a boy?

I pull my blanket of anger tighter around my shoulders. I like the way it feels tonight. The blanket settles around me and keeps me warm. It gives me the excuse I need to spew flames into the world. 

As I grip my blanket tighter, as the justified anger seeps into my bones, as I begin to allow it to stick around, Hugh rolls over and looks at me. “Thanks, Mom” he says sleepily and then closes his eyes. 

“You’re welcome, baby” I whisper into the dark. 

And I slowly unwrap the blanket from my shoulders. I fold it neatly and smooth out the wrinkles. I give it one last squeeze, then I place it in the closet and close the door. I know it will always be there, but I also know there is only one thing that can free me from it. 

I’m sure you know what that one thing is too, but I’ll go ahead and tell you. It’s Love. 

Love wins every time. Love gently unwraps the heavy blanket of anger or fear or pride or hurt and replaces it with arms that embrace me instead. 

Love turns my head to see you – because you’re wearing a blanket too, sometimes. 

Love helps me notice that we all have blankets of anger. And while your’s may not be because of diabetes, it’s there just the same. Maybe it’s given to you after a divorce or a death or a failure or a betrayal. Maybe you try to hide it by hurting others or seeing the world as a dark and scary place. But Love shows me that what really is going on is that blanket – The one you can’t quite ever leave behind. 

And yet, Love whispers to me and to you again and again that when life is hard, when we hurt, when we are afraid, when our anger takes over, we can turn to Love. 

Love will hold our hand. Love will walk with us. Love won’t make us feel comfortable, but will give us joy beyond belief. And in this Love, we will want to share it with the whole world. 

So take off your blankets with me, dear friends, and join me in the One who Loves. I have been told that our lives will never be the same. 

Share This:

A Mother’s Day Blessing

Dear Lord,

Today we come to you and ask you to bless the mothers. 

Bless the mothers who are in this very room – the mothers of fresh little babies, wiggling in their arms and bouncing on their hips. The mothers of teenagers who are growing taller by the day. The mothers of grown children who are raising families of their own. May they know how much they are loved. 

Bless the mothers who are not with us today. The mothers who are taking care of loved ones. The mothers who are no longer able to venture out of their homes. The mothers who have responsibilities that carry them away from us. May they know how much they are loved. 

Bless the mothers who live around us and who we see every day. Bless the mothers who are far from us, who we will never meet. Bless the mothers who speak beautiful languages other than ours. Bless the mothers who live in large and expensive homes and the mothers who live in one room houses with dirt floors. Bless the mothers of our world, Lord. May they know how much they are loved. 

Bless the mothers who work in an office, the mothers who work at home, the mothers who farm land all day, the mothers who teach in classrooms, the mothers who work non-stop to keep everything going. Bless the single mothers, the mothers who live in affluence, the mothers who live in poverty. Bless the mothers who have worries larger than some of us may ever know. Bless the mothers who have children with special needs, the mothers watching over their children in a hospital bed, the mothers who are also their child’s nurse and constant caregiver. May they know how much they are loved. 

And finally, we ask that You bless the mothers who are hurting. Bless the mothers who are waiting to become a mom one day, the mothers whose children are now with You, the mothers who are motherless, the mothers who grieve for lost children. Bless the mother’s who have a mother’s heart – who poured their lives into other people’s children even though they had no children of their own. May they know how much they are loved. 

Lord, give these mothers Your blessing today and all the days. May every single mother know she is seen by You, that her prayers are heard by You, that she is tenderly held by You, and loved by You, the Mother and Father of us all. 

Amen. 

Share This:

To the Mothers Taking Care of Other Mothers

This year, as my sweet little family celebrates Mother’s Day and all the wonderful mothers we have in our life, I started thinking about the Mothers who take care of other Mothers. As we all know, motherhood is one of the most beautiful and most difficult things we do in life, and we would not survive it if it weren’t for other mothers. And in the South, especially, we regard our Mothers as near heavenly creatures who have direct phone lines to God Himself. (Scott says we ended up with a dog because my mother prayed for the kids to get one and the next day a stray showed up in our yard.)

So . . . to all the Mothers who are taking care of other Mothers, here’s to you.

Here’s to the Mothers whose daughters have babies and who show up at their daughters’ homes to cook a meal, wash a load of clothes, cradle a sleeping newborn just to let the new mom sleep for a few hours. These Mothers understand the exhaustion and emotions of a new Mother, and comfort and encourage her as only a Mother can.

Here’s to the Mother-in-laws, who generously love and nurture their son’s wife, knowing that her support and encouragement make all the difference to a young Mother.

Here’s to the Mothers whose friends are Mothers and they know just how it feels to be going through life with toddlers. They show up with coffee and donuts as the kids run wild through the house and laugh or cry over this crazy life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are teachers and understand how hard it is for Mothers to send their littles off to school every morning with homework done, teeth brushed, and backpacks packed, and who give those Mothers lots of grace when it doesn’t quite get all done.

Here’s to the Mothers who have experienced the teenage years and tell other Mothers who are just at the beginning that everything will be ok. That they will survive it and may even end up liking their kids a little bit more on the other side.

Here’s to the Mothers who smile at other Mothers with kids running in circles in the grocery store and then help them unload their cart onto the check-out counter.

Here’s to the Mothers who are nurses and who give an encouraging hug and kind words to a Mother when her child is sick or hurting.

Here’s to the Mothers who laugh with other Mothers when they share a story about potty-training or puberty or dating.

Here’s to the Mothers who cry with other Mothers when there are no words to describe the pain.

Here’s to the Mothers who had no children of their own, but care for other Mothers’ children as if they were their own.

Here’s to the Mothers who extend a hand of help and grace to other Mothers in desperate times – passing out emergency food, collecting supplies, offering shelter regardless of where the other Mother is from or what has happened in her life.

Here’s to the Mothers who are raising little Mothers-to-be, who show their daughters that women can be strong and kind and beautiful.

Here’s to the Mothers who are taking care of the Mothers who are wrinkled and worn – who have lived their lives and are nearing the end of their days here on Earth.

Here’s to the Mothers all over this world who take the time to care for other Mothers.

May we know you and may we be you.

Happy Mother’s Day

Sally
 

 

Share This: