everyday should be Mother's Day, and not just this Sunday, May, 11, 2008.
in my opinion mothers are the closest people to G-d, Almi-hty. they are protected and enshrined under the wings of the Shechinah...the Holy One, blessed be He.
mothers bring nurturing, love, healing, blessings, joy, and ..the most precious gift of all...the gift of life!
mothers love their children like no one else ever will. blessed be our mothers forever and always.
My favorite uncle who is just two years older than me sent this in tribute to his dear mother and my grandmother (above). How Donald loved his mom and I know no other that cared for a mother like he did. I know today was difficult for him as Amelie my mother's namesake passed on a few years ago. If you would like to know more about Donald's mom I wrote a really neat message here on the blog last year. It is entitled, "My Grandma was a Convict."
http://jack-sonshine.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-grandma-was-convict.html
Hello everybody!
It’s very nice of you to invite guests to post, Jack, and although I’ve only become acquainted with you online recently, I hope you will think of me as a new friend as I sure feel that way about you and Joian. God bless you both!
I had taken Mom into my home to care for her as her long full life was drawing to a close having endured numerous and difficult life-long health problems. She and Dad had just celebrated 62 years of marriage and I had also taken in my father, Alexander, and he is still with me at age 91. Mom had received a kidney transplant at the age of 69 and did amazingly well with it until her death at age 82. However, her very final years were filled with such severe pain from a multitude of other problems including severe osteoporosis that she was on three narcotics in addition to a bunch of meds for a host of maladies. Her situation had gotten so that she could hardly walk and I knew it was time to get a hospital bed for her. I was given medical advice that she should go to a nursing facility for a few weeks where they would give her physical therapy to build up her strength a little to be able to transfer in and out of bed with assistance so as to be able to sit in a chair at bedside occasionally; so off she went.
While there for a few weeks she became too lethargic to take part in the therapy and it seemed that Mom was going downhill fast. One day I got the call that she was found dead in her bed at the facility. If she had died peacefully in bed in my home, that would’ve been a blessing as she had already prepared her Living Will stating she didn’t want any heroics nor life-sustaining procedures. But although this document was among her medical records there at the facility, she was still “coded” nevertheless and paramedics resuscitated her, intubated her and transferred her to a hospital emergency room by ambulance, and from there she was placed on a mechanical ventilator in an intensive care unit.
By the time I got there, she was not a pretty sight being an “offish” color of flesh and being propped up with pillows breathing through a machine-assisted tube down her throat and my heart was just crushed. “This should have never happened!” I exclaimed. But the pulmonologist tried to get me to consider keeping her in her unresponsive condition on the ventilator for a few days to see what would happen. “Dr. Kaplen, we have already cheated death! Pull out that tube and let my mother rest!” And he did. The bill for that two-and-a-half-hour hospitalization that should have never taken place was very nearly fifteen thousand dollars (in 2002). Thankfully, she had great insurance that essentially covered everything, but that was not the point.
Two years ago my father was hospitalized for a week. Although I spent most of my time with him I could not stay there at all times and upon his admission I asked for a sign to be taped to the wall at the head of his bed stating his wishes as per his Living Will which was in his medical record there, in big bold letters: “Do Not Resuscitate” and I was told this could not be done, that there were “patient privacy rules” or some other such nonsense and I had to ask to speak with an administrator about this. I finally got the hand-made sign placed where I wanted, but it had to read “Do Not Resuscitate per patient and family’s request.” Whatever! The deed got done and I was comforted that what happened to my mom would not happen to my dad should his number be called from above while there. I realize everything happens for a reason, i.e., God’s, in His infinite wisdom, but the memory of my mother’s death will always be somewhat marred by that experience. As it turned out, she was so septic from an unattended bladder infection at the time of her death that she was probably so obtunded she didn’t feel the tumultuous and invasive procedures. God is merciful.
Mom was a Catholic and as long as I can remember she was offering up prayers for others. This was a visible ministry as she would get out her prayer cards with pretty pictures and words of honorable intentions. She had many of them… like a deck of cards, ha… and she “dealt” out prayers to God even when sitting when she could no longer kneel as was her habit. She also bowed her head and prayed in her own words, even when she was ill and in pain.
I miss my mom so much. She had become my closest friend. Thank you for this opportunity to share a piece of her life.
God bless you all muchly!
With Christ’s joy,
Hotlanta
Jenny Hope Kerby- 1914 - 2002
The second born of twins…… Mother often retold the story of how she and Joy were named…. someone stated during their birth, “Joy that there’s two and hope there’s no more”…. it stuck the babies were named Hope and Joy.
I was recently going through some personal effects belonging to Mom which included her high school year book, the year 1932. I read the inscriptions, several stating good luck on her dream of becoming a lawyer. I had no idea she had such dreams but I had to agree, she could meticulously argue a point……lol
Hope and Joy also had musical abilities. My grandmother the epitome of what we now call a stage mother pushed the twins hoping their talent would bring wealth and fame to the family. Instead the twins would run off and marry to escape her control.
When I was a teenager I was cleaning out a closet and came across a slightly warped record, smaller than the 45s I was used to seeing. I took it over to my record player and started playing it……there were the distinct voices of my mother and her sister singing. I was playing the only record of their voices. I had never met Aunt Joy but for a moment I could almost see them together performing that song. I played and replayed that record, memorizing the short little song called “That Little Boy of Mine”. How ironic that she did indeed birth four boys and like her I came along, as rather a surprise bonus and the only girl.
I thought about her life ….the death of her father, the move from Nampa, Idaho to Long Beach, California. Just in time for the 1933 earthquake that destroyed their family home and killed so many…….right on the heels of the Great Depression. The hardships and fear of WWII, living in a naval port …..the death of her twin Joy, who died after giving birth to her second child. The death of her own husband from a hit and run accident within months of her sister’s death. A history that makes me cringe recalling it. Amazing how we are made able to go on.
Mother loved shopping in Long Beach. We made the drive back from Orange County once a month. My younger brother and I along for the ride. Mother was part of a ladies trio at our church so on the drive we filled the time with singing, hours and hours of singing. By seven I knew every song she knew and more…….the words from the old hymns would teach me about God’s love, with lyrics like, great is thy faithfulness, oh God my Father, there is no shadow of turning in thee, and but it’s real, it’s real, oh I know it’s real, praise God the doubts are settled and I know I know, it’s real. I cry and laugh as I remember stopping in the middle of one song to ask my brother Tommie what he was singing? The words were, only believe, only believe, all things are possible, only believe. Hearing something that sounded a little different coming out of his mouth I asked, what are YOU singing???? His rather annoyed six year old voice yelled, ONLY PEE LEAVES! What are YOU singing?……
Like her name, Mother held out hope that something could always be done to make things better and she was willing to work hard to make it happen. One summer when I was about five, she took a part time job picking boysenberries at a farm behind our house.. A bonus from the job was that all the imperfect berries came home with the workers. We should have been purple from all the berries we consumed. But my favorite memory was mother in front of the oven with a tea kettle, pouring hot water over this adaptation of peach cobbler. I can still remember the pleasure from the sights and smells of those days. The result was a boysenberry cobbler that is still being made for our family gatherings. I am in awe when I think of her picking berries for hours, cooking dinner and desert for a family of nine and all before my father returned home from work. I never heard her complain and often she hummed a song as she worked. A different kind of woman, who never knew the luxury of a pedicure and would have considered it a waste of money......LOL
I’m glad for the chance to remember Mother in a different light as the last ten years of her life were some of the most difficult I have ever experienced. It’s taken six more to put that time in the proper perspective. Remembering the whole of her life I don’t begrudge her little stumble toward the end. It's part of this place we call life. There is but one who will never leave or forsake, and it was Mother who pointed me to him…….. I will end with one of her favorite scriptures, "There is no greater joy than knowing my children serve the Lord......." and mine for her is, " And her children will rise and call her blessed" and truly, I was.
Love,
Joian
********************
Amelie Josephine Hennessey 1928 - 2006
I was going to share a humorous little story of the times my five sisters and myself used to go pool hopping in Waikiki with my fun loving mother. However I felt earlier today to recount this older testimony. I pray you might be blessed by this illustration of "His gushing fountains of endless life" and the "law of circularity". Praise be to our precious Jesus.
Suffering the lingering effects of some ill, performed against me in the way of a theft of almost all I owned, I was quite hurt by my inability to travel to my mother's death bed in April. There was a deep hurt but over laying this pain was also a comforting peace borne of a knowing that God was in control and working all things for good.
It seemed a cousin of mine spent a great deal of time spelling my sisters during the trying few days my mother lay in the hospital. When others were to tired and emotionally spent, cousin Cathy would hold my mothers hand and read to her from the Bible . Just before the hour of my mothers death, Cathy discovered a piece of paper she had never seen before tucked into the pages of her Bible. It was a copy of St Francis of Assisi's "Peace Prayer" and knowing how my mother loved the writings of St Francis she read the words from this small piece of blue paper to her. When she got to the last line;
"And it is in dying that we are
Born to eternal life."
my mother heaved her last breath and died.
Well, I had not seen this cousin in thirty five years until three days ago when she and her brother (our cousin also) came to to our town to visit my sister's family and myself. I went over to my sis's house and found Cathy deathly ill and laying in bed with a high fever. I say "deathly ill" because Cathy has a transplanted liver and any kind of infection can be deadly because of the non-rejection drugs she must take.
As we all (minus Cathy) later, sat around the table enjoying dinner I had a feeling that I needed to go pray for Cathy. I didn't think much of it until later in the evening when my sister's 15 year old daughter; my niece, was showing me some books on prayer she had just recently bought. She wanted to know what I thought of them and so I quickly critiqued them. I told her that two (New Age) were made for the trash can, but one was very good and something which I would enjoy reading. This occurrence was the first time I had ever known of my niece having any desire to know something of the things of God. The thought to pray re-occured.
What was so cool is what happened not too long after that last thought. I went into the extra bedroom to see what my niece was doing on the computer. As I entered the room I noticed cousin Cathy laying on the bed semi-conscious. God spoke to me again to pray for her. I quietly laid my hand upon her and softly spoke my prayer. When I finished my niece said "amen" and Cathy whispered "thank you".
An hour later Cathy's temperature had dropped a point and a half and yesterday she was up and about feeling fine.
Cathy blessed me by standing in for me at my Mom's bedside, and I was able to return a blessing to Cathy at her bedside. To boot, my little niece was able to witness the power of prayer. Maybe an illustration of God's circle being increased. I think so.
My cousin is just a shell of a person: almost completely deaf, barely able to speak clearly. This was caused by a stroke and of course she has the liver problem. She sadly suffers because of the ravishing effects of her earlier years of drug and alcohol abuse. Cathy is a true testament, that God will use just about anyone to love and be loved in this world.
PRAYER OF ST. FRANCIS
Lord make me
an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred,
Let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, Joy.
O Divine Master grant that I may
Not so much seek to be consoled
As to console;
To be understood,
As to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
And it is in dying that we are
Born to eternal life.
Note:
Mother's Day is Sunday and we thought it would be neat to set aside a blog for our readers to maybe share a tribute to their mothers this week. If you feel led, please send us an E-mail with a thought or a story of your mother. I will try to add them to this post as they come in and there is not a time limit nor any theme limitation as we hope you would write from the heart as the Lord leads. We will keep this blog at the top for at least a week with the most recent additions placed at the top. This will be my third Mother's Day since my mom's passing and I plan to write a fun little account, as that is the way I like to remember her.
Please send your tribute to:
jahennes@q.com
Thanks so much,
Jack & Joian
