“Mom” love at “Home”

I drove into the darkness.
We dotted our way across south Georgia last week.
I knew Saturday night ….
would be a late night.
For the first time ever, all five of the Lovett family members would be performing
and even on stage at the same time during The Nutcracker.

Three party guests, Drosselmeyer and The Snow Queen.
They danced. Joy and I sat in wonder.
The performance
with South Georgia Ballet is always exquisite.

After the performance, there are festivities followed by a wonderful dine at Applebees. This year, there must have been forty of us at dinner.  It was such fun to talk and chat and laugh with these girls, guys and friends.

Joy and I chose not to spend the evening at the Lovetts home twenty minutes away. We drove through Cairo, past their home and on through Bainbridge to the lake, to Mom and Dad’s house. I wanted to be at their home that we might worship on Sunday morning with them. I didn’t want to displace a gracious Lovett child from his bed … again. I wanted to be in Bainbridge to have lunch with my folks
before we went to Rusty’s memorial service.

At 1:15, Joy and I crawled into Glory’s little car and headed “home” …
because “Home is where your Mom is,” right?

Only moments after closing the car door, the phone rang. Glory’s face came up on my iPhone screen. I answered to tears, “I’m so glad that you’re up,” she cried. Generally, 1:30 a.m. is close to the time I am getting ready to r.i.s.e …. NOT near the time I hope to be going to bed.

Earlier in the day, Glory ate lunch at a restaurant that she frequents. She had sushi rolls. Within thirty minutes she felt sick. She said that she WISHED she COULD throw up.
She had left work a bit early and been at home on the bathroom floor for hours and hours.
All she wanted to do was sleep … but she couldn’t.
And there I was …. a lightyear away and helpless.
I talked her through finding a Help-a-Nurse phone number,
talked her through picking a hospital
and prayed.

She readied to head to the hospital,
I drove through the night on the other end of the state
and my mind raced.

I don’t remember being so far away from a child before
when they needed help …
there wasn’t a friend she could think of who would join her for companionship at the emergency room. There were friends … but they had worked late or had to be in early … her brother and her boyfriend were both out of town. The thought of my weak, twenty-year old daughter heading to an emergency room at 2:00 a.m. …. on a Saturday night … alone … in Augusta …. was quite unsettling.
Who could take my place, I wondered?

As I thought of people I might be able to call at 2:00 in the morning …
as I tried to think of someone I could find who would happily roll out of a toasty bed
and don shoes and a jacket to head to an emergency ….
as I tried to think of a friend who could explain to her husband WHY she was abruptly
dressing to leave home ….. someone who wouldn’t get upset with me for asking for help
from afar ….
I wondered …. who would not be irritated by my intrusion? Who loved their children similarly to how I love mine?
I thought of Anne.
She is the closest thing I could think of
to “me.”
I hoped she wouldn’t mind my calling her.
I prayed she would …. find pleasure in my asking her …
that I trusted her that much … knowing she would love my girl and be a presence of peace.
“I’d be happy to, Karen. Thanks for calling to ask me,” was her response to my request.

Then it was my turn to cry. I teared and thanked her.

I am in awe with thanksgiving … grateful for every.single.gift of friendship that I am presented.
Oh, that I would always be a “Yes” friend.
I pray that “I’d be happy to!” would roll off my tongue without hesitation …
any time of the day or night.
My desire is that I would find, “It is my pleasure,”
to be a truthful response to a cry for any type of help.

We pulled into my parent’s drive at 2:30 a.m.
Glory had made it to the hospital, was seen and released within forty-five minutes.
Anne had scurried to get to the hospital to spend a long night …. but wasn’t even needed.

But, it wasn’t her being there that was as important
as her eager, willingness to respond when called upon.

Yes, “Home is where your mom is.”
I was thankful to have had a chance to visit my own mom at her home during Thanksgiving,
thankful to return “home” to my own children and embrace my daughter,
and thankful that, when I was nowhere near either “home” …
God provided a “mom” to fill my shoes.

Thank you, Lord, for friendships of “mom” quality
that are a reflection of your “Yes” love.

7 thoughts on ““Mom” love at “Home”

  1. I’m tearing as we drive across Missouri this morning to spend the winter near my daughter and her family…but that entails leaving my son and his wife…never near both.


  2. I really think you should submit some of your entries, like this one, to a woman’s devotional/magazine. You are a gifted writer and I love reading your posts. Wish our paths crossed more often, but thanks to facebook, I can stalk you! Ha! Jenny


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