The cell phone is set to “do not disturb” as I lay down for a nap. When I awake, I spend the afternoon in the garden. I think of phoning Mother several times, but since tomorrow is Mother’s Day, I will wait until then. I plan to end Saturday night watching an episode of Lt. Columbo. During a commercial, I hear the phone vibrating. There are six calls and four messages, all from my brother, over a two-hour time period. Something is terribly wrong. I suspect it is news about my Dad’s failing health and brace myself.

“Mama had to be taken to the hospital tonight, flown to a special care unit,” he tells me.

“How is she?”

“She didn’t make it. Mama had a massive heart attack and died,” he says sadly. I wasn’t braced enough. Not my precious Mother. Not the Mother God had worked a grand relationship miracle in! I hang up the phone to call Bill when I can speak. Tears are flowing too fast.

“Why didn’t I call Mama today? While she was still alive to hear me say ‘I love you?’ I never want to see another Colombo episode. I will forever remember Mother’s Day as the first day my Mother was no longer living,” until I talk with God. “God, will you give me a good way to remember this day?” I ask.

“Why don’t you remember Mother’s Day as the first day your Mother really began to live?” Isn’t that just like God…the eternal optimist? The dread of Mother’s Day memories evaporates.

It is sad and hectic at my Dad’s home. Arrangements to be made. Dad wants to see Mama, just has to see her. Her body isn’t prepared. I accompany him to view Mama as she has arrived from the hospital. Daddy looks and weeps. I do too. We hold one another and cry. In our despair, healing begins for a daughter who questions if her Dad really loves her.

Awaking at dawn the day before Mama will be laid to rest, I pick up a folding stool on my way out the door. Surrounded by hundreds of acres of farm land, I wander to the pond, place the stool at the shoreline, and stick my toes in the sand. It is very peaceful, very quiet. The birds are sleeping.

I notice movement in the shallow water. Ants? Ants walking on the pond’s floor? I pick one up. Yes, it is an ant. How can an ant hold its breath? A spider comes near. I shoo him away and he chooses to escape via the water surface. He literally walks on water and when he has gone a safe distance, sits down. The legs extend out and his body is held up like a flotation device. Who would have known! Birds become active, tiny little birds travelling at mach speed across the pond, coming within a fraction of the water’s surface. I can hear no sound but see ripples as the bird, with precision flight, lifts an insect from the water. This goes on for ten minutes. Scuba ants, a floating spider, and jetting birds. If God can do this, He will have no problem with my request.

“God, will you heal my pain of losing Mama?”

Instantly, in my mind, I see a lush grassy area. Barefooted legs appear which I know are Mama’s. At 84, she loves to go barefoot with jean legs rolled up. Jesus approaches her. I know Jesus by His white flowing garments. There are no faces. He hugs her with a big engulfing hug and says, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.” He reaches behind and presents to Mama one single flower. It is a beautiful blue. No, it is iridescent! So many colors radiate from it as He turns it in the light. She is awe struck!

“Would you like to explore with Me?” He invites. She cannot resist. They walk away down a grassy path into a garden. Mama stops at the first bloom she sees. Jesus has gone a few steps ahead, pretending He doesn’t know she stopped. He returns, bows over the bloom with Mama and says, “Would you like to know how this one was created?”

I know Jesus has all the time in the world for Mama and that she is so happy in this beautiful garden. She will be exploring with Jesus forever. I am at peace knowing she is with Him.