Last week after her birthday shopping excursion to Meier's (my mother's favorite store), Sarah came home clutching a single long-stemmed red rose. Silently she handed it to me, then dashed to her room to continue filling up the 4x6 foot bulletin board my father had mounted on her bedroom wall. In a span of a few days, she had nearly covered the thing.
Sniffing the blossom, I glanced expectantly at my mother, assuming that she was behind the whole thing. "Nope, not me," she said. "When we went past the flower stand, Sarah said to me, 'My mommy hasn't been feeling good. Can we get her a rose?' Now how could I say 'No' to such a sweet request?"
She couldn't, of course. And nearly a week later, the flower still has a place of honor on my kitchen windowsill.
As mothers, we sometimes underestimate how deeply the little crosses of our lives affect our kids. I had thought I'd been soldiering on bravely, apart from the occasional mad dash to the bathroom. But my kids ... they knew. Mommy hasn't been feeling good. And so they do their bit to ease her suffering.
They pick up their rooms to surprise me.
They catch me curled up on the bed, and turn me into a "Mommy Sandwich."
They bring me a rose when they are supposed to be picking out their own little treat.
Lord, help me be the kind of Mommy these kids deserve!