I've always been the one to take care of her. When she is sick no one checks her blood sugars as often as me or makes sure she takes her shots or pinches her skin in that crazy Tot way to make sure she's hydrated. And it's not so crazy when you're now Tot.
She was absolutely beautiful that day. Three or four playing bride with snagged and pulled cheap polyester white dress and short veil with baby white silk flowers glued on top. Plastic see-through dollar dress-up shoes which flopped when she walked and hair in high ponytail bangs curled with round brush.
And she was baby beautiful sitting on steps holding wild onion flowers waiting for daddy to come home and marry her.
But this day - this day she was more than beautiful. And when it's just the two of us sitting in bride's room and she touchs her stomach and says she nervous, doesn't like the idea of people looking at her - I take her hand and tell her Don't take your eyes off him, just walk toward him.
And I remind her everyone is to look at her - it's the bride's day. She says don't cry mama you'll make me and she lightly touches under her eyes and sits holding her flowers with veil on hair pulled back and waits for her daddy to come and give her away to marry.
And where is he? Probably leaning against wall- waiting- really on Kites Avenue with little girl holding onion flowers.
And she was beautiful. She has grown into a kind and loving young woman. She survived years of childhood baggage from parents who couldn't get things right early enough and the cruelty of a body turning against her at such a young age. But she grew and loved and struggled and I watched her walk the aisle- hoping from this moment on she'd know only happiness.
But why does a mother hope that when she knows she doesn't really want it? Why would we want struggles to pass over our children when our Lord had to endure the worst of suffering? When the love of Christ who wants for us no sadness demands a life of struggles. When we don't want our children left alone by pain because then they would be alone.
But I watch her and hope it anyway.
Now weeks have passed and she's sick and I've done exactly as I should - given her care over to her husband - so why can't I get the peaches to stay on the shelf? Why won't she answer or phone ring or my mind just settle?
And phone does ring and she was sleeping and she's fine and he had gotten her everything she needed.
He's taking care of me, Mama, don't worry.
And being a mother is the hardest most glorious job a woman will ever know.
I had given up on the peaches so I go back and try again. I rearrange the shelf and make room while trying to do the same thing with mind and heart.
And may I make a suggestion to all young mama's out there? If you have a baby bride with cheap polyester dress - save it, please. One day you'll think of it and wish for it. Cut a piece and pin it to the inside of her future dress - when she no longer fits on the side of your hip or in the curve of your lap.
But there's always the heart. And the heart never outgrows.
