Starting Over

I felt exhausted one morning as I prepared my mother’s breakfast and carried it into her bedroom. She had a lung disease and spent her days mostly in bed on oxygen. I lived next door and was in and out of her house, stretched between mothering my own three children and caring for her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling as I placed the tray on her lap. I watched as she tried to pick up a grapefruit section with her spoon, but it wouldn’t budge. Impatiently, I took the spoon from her and forcefully stabbed the grapefruit, causing it to squirt juice right into my eye. “Ouch!” I cried.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” my mother said, but we both knew she wasn’t just talking about the grapefruit juice.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, hiding my tears. I retreated to the living room where I cried out to God about the guilt I felt at nearly breaking down in frustration in front of my mother. Why couldn’t I handle this better?

“Forgive me, Lord,” I whispered into the silence. And so with the faintest confession, Jesus gave me his loving assurance that I could start over again. With renewed strength, I returned and sat down by my mother’s bed.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I don’t always do this right……”

She smiled. “No one does this all right, but I love you for being here.”