DQ is for more than ice cream

The color is orange.  I painted the accent wall in the bedroom and now this 'room' is filled with three desks, as many swivel chairs, a grey area rug and a tall bookcase. We sit here daily, me designing my new website for t.H.e. Images, as well as editing photos, monitoring twin almost fifteen year old boys as they peruse the internet and Jef pays bills, does boy coaching and checks his email...we all sit in this tiny room A LOT while an entire house sits quietly empty.

As I write this, I wonder if we linger here because we miss them and being in here makes us feel closer to them. 
I had a waking thought today that perhaps mom's highlight everyday that God gave her another day to wake up was because the day she didn't, was the day she was with Him and that's how she would leave us.  Her daily confession, when she would do highlights at dinner was always that, along with  not having to go to dialysis that particular day.

I haven't cried much lately.  There came a day, sometime after Mother's day, that I felt the weight of her death lift. 
Mother's day was terrible.  I cried and did not want to go to church to hear about Mother's day, so I asked Love if we could go to another church, just in case they talked about it...we did, and that church talked about it and mine didn't!  Sigh.
So, when we got home, I took a nap and as I awoke, I heard in my spirit, 'she's with Me and it's ok.' 

Since that day, I say that over and over, 'she's with me and it's ok', when I see her sitting in her wheelchair, watching me as I cook dinner and asking if there is anything she can do to help or when I want to ask her a question and I can't.

Yesterday, Love took me to DQ and as I waited at a booth for him to get our order, I noticed two women together; one was elderly and shuffling a walker while the other encouraged her to decide where to sit and what did she want to drink. As she sat down, she said 'a Coke is fine', I immediately remembered the day I took mom to DQ on Bandera Rd.  I just sat there staring at her walker, remembering.
I ate my cone in tears. I was, once again, overwhelmed with emotion.  The dynamics of their relationship had triggered the flood. 
Poor Jef, bless his heart.  He did what he always does...he let me cry and then it passed.  We sat there in silence.

As I watched the woman catering to the elderly lady, I wondered what her story was.  She looked frazzled, and edgy.  I determined that before we left, I was going to connect with them and tell them how sweet it was to see her enjoying her mom and a "be sure you savor every moment" kind of speech.

In my usual friendly noseyness, I asked the lady if that was her mom, to which she told me yes.  I commented how sweet it was to see them enjoying each other and that my mom had passed away in March and she told me her father was in rehab and they were just getting a bite to eat.  I saw the hopelessly tired eyes of a woman caring for her parents and I understood what she was going through.  As I touched her shoulder, both of us teary-eyed, I reminded her that, 'it's gonna be ok.' 

I just wanted to sit with her, hold her and let her cry.  I was that woman.  The worn out look, the tired body, dragging along and giving what little energy she had and trying to be sweet.

May I never forget how hard it was.  May I never forget that people are needing to be encouraged, not judged, criticized or pushed aside.  Each time I'm out in public, may God give me His eyes and may my own experience only strengthen my resolve to love when it's difficult.