a surefire way to love a mama

Mother’s Day is this upcoming weekend. Here’s a story (and a little personal message) in honor of the upcoming holiday.

Recently a woman who was part of our church family passed away. Granny June – she encouraged all of us to call her that, though only one member of our congregation was truly her grandson. She was older – 98, I believe. But nothing slowed her down.

She was sick often, but still got fellowship with other church members. While at church, she would joyfully clap along with the music, even if she had to do it from her seat. She somehow made a trip across the state to a church conference, attending all the classes she could.

But my last experience with her was truly the most memorable, and it’s one that warms my mama heart every time I think about it.

In the hospital

We get the news that Granny June is in the hospital, and that it may be the last time we will get to see to her. My husband and I of course plan to visit. At the last minute, we decide to take our whole family – kids and all.

We arrive and meet friends in the plain visitor’s waiting room. We leave our boys in the room with one friend to go in the hall with another, who tearfully lets us know what’s going on and ends with, “it’s probably goodbye.”

My husband and I eye each other and I ask the question, “Do you think it’s a good idea to bring the boys in?” Our friend seems hesitant. I feel hesitant. But where I am feeling anxious, my husband steps up. “Let’s do it,” he says confidently, and goes to get the boys, while I step in.

In the room, really more a partitioned off space, she lays in bed, surrounded by our friends from church. Her eyes are closed, and I can’t tell if she is awake or not. People hold her hands and speak to her. She is wearing a breathing mask, and is connected to a bunch of machines. There’s beeping and quiet chatter.

I quietly explain to my oldest that Granny June is sick, that she’s wearing a mask, but that it makes her a superhero (because, boys). He gets quiet, but with those big round eyes. I don’t know what is going on in his mind.

They have never had an experience like this. But they knew the woman underneath the mask, and I think that was all they needed. My oldest holds her hand a little timidly, my youngest looks on from my husband’s shoulder.

Then an amazing thing happens. She opens her eyes as soon as she knows we are there, even though there had been a room full of people there the whole time.

And she absolutely lights up. She waves. She blows kisses back and forth, especially with my youngest, who giggles and blew them back. My oldest holds her hand and she holds his back. It’s almost as if time has re-wound to another healthier day, and it seems to slow, and we’re all caught up in the sweetness of it.

There are many ways you can show me love as a mama.

You can bring me food (always a winning way to love a mama, any mama). You can babysit my kids and let me and my husband get a date night out – that is lovely and so encouraging. Or you can help me clean my house, and I will give you all the gold stars and hugs and whatever else I can muster.

But when you love my kids, it’s on another level.

I will always remember Granny June for that, especially at that moment I just recounted, but in so many more. Every holiday she would make goody bags for the kids in children’s ministry. Always trying to stay anonymous, but people couldn’t help but share it was her. She got such joy from the kids around her. She was truly a grandmother to all of us.

How you can love me best is not by doing anything for me, necessarily.

Love my kids.

Listen to their long-winded, nonsensical stories. Make them giggle. Take the time to play with them or give them special attention or give them a compliment. It makes my heart soar.

I think many mamas will tell you the same.

What’s your recommendation for a way to love a mama?

Photos by:

1 – Liana Mikah on Unsplash

2 – Sai De Silva on Unsplash

3 – KE ATLAS on Unsplash