Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Why
“I don’t know why I was born.”
Frightening words to hear come out of anyone’s mouth, I think. Maybe especially when they are the opening words to a conversation, before even the small-talk niceties of “Hi, how are you?” and “Just fine. How about you?” have been exchanged.
Instead of sweet-talking lies, only the visual of walking into her apartment and seeing her sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands, and then those stark, mono-syllabic words, each one standing on its own jagged edge, like brittle bones without marrow.
I don’t know why I was born.
Doug and I looked at each other and knew this was an answered prayer. All we’d asked for, really, was a simple opportunity—a chance to speak to Mom about the way of things between her and Jesus. A chance to point her toward the One for whom we were each made.
“You were born for God, Mary,” Doug said.
I gasped and prepared to be told that she did not want to talk about religion, that she hadn’t meant to imply that a spiritual discussion would be welcome. Instead, she looked at him and waited, as if she’d been waiting to hear those words forever.
Mom asked a lot of questions that day, nearly five weeks ago, before her most recent fall, hospitalization, and nursing home stay. We tried to answer in ways we hoped she could comprehend in her agitated and despondent state.
Mom finally turned to Doug and said, “I don’t understand anything you’re saying.”
And then Doug said something so profoundly true that to think of it even today makes me weep.
“It’s OK, Mary. It all comes down to four words, really. Do you want to know what they are?”
“Yes.”
“God loves Mary McKenna.”
Mom looked stunned to hear the news, the good news of the gospel, the bare-bones truth about the Savior’s intimate affection for her. And for once she didn’t argue with the messenger.
When we were getting ready to leave that day, Doug asked Mom if she would like us to pray with her.
“No,” she said.
“That’s fine,” Doug answered. “Because you know what, Mary? You can talk to God anytime you want, just like we’re talking here.”
A few days later, I told Mom how I was going to have to have an MRI again. She knows I’ve hated going into the tunnels with a passion, so severe is my claustrophobia.
When we were about to hang up the phone, Mom said, “Do you remember my friend Mary Jo, from when you kids were little? And how she used to end every conversation by saying, ‘I’ll pray for you’?”
I giggled, figuring Mom was about to make fun of poor, old Mary Jo. “Sure, I remember.”
“Well, would it help you if I said I would pray for you?”
Yes, Mom. It would help me. More than you could know…
In the space of a few short days, Mom went from “I don’t know why I was born” to “Let me pray for you.”
Sometimes, I have to admit, I’m not quite sure why I was born, either. If we’re honest, I guess we all feel that way from time to time.
But on that beautiful day when my mother gathered the strength of soul to utter those weak-sounding words, I remembered a bit more of the reason.
- Wow, Katy. I have tears in my eyes. Beautiful.
Posted by Jeanne Damoff on 03/24/06 at 07:09 PM
- Oh...you made me cry. I ache to see my mom ask that question. Your post gives me that hope.
Posted by relevantgirl on 03/25/06 at 09:20 AM
- Man, you made me burst into tears. It never, ever hurts to be reminded how loved we are. Thank you.
Posted by Hope on 03/25/06 at 08:49 PM
- mmmm...good post. i love that it's just about never too late for anybody to hear that God loves them.
Posted by lisa on 03/26/06 at 10:52 PM
- How beautiful. Sometimes you repeat the invitation over and over, and then suddenly one day it seems like it was the right timing and it clicks, for no apparent reason. Thanks for this wonderful post!
Posted by Ginger on 03/27/06 at 02:05 PM
- Wow! Maybe I'll send this to my friend Janyce. She's in the same place with her mom right now - only I'm not sure her mom has the wherewithall to even say, 'I don't know why I was born.' (Of course, we can also pray for lucid moments.)
Posted by violet on 03/28/06 at 02:29 AM
- I just moved out of an apartment to an upstairs apartment. I was sick the whole 2 years i lived in the first apartment. I am just above that apartment now and they are blowing asbestos in the apartment below me and I am having trouble breathing and my chest hurts. Could this be because of the asbestos?
Posted by Barcelona apartments rental on 10/25/10 at 03:15 AM
- I don't think you could ever measure the amount peace you certainly brought for your mother that day. Beautiful, Katy. Just beautiful
Posted by Kat Harris on 11/17/11 at 06:31 PM
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