Clear and Present Suffering
"All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:16b
Mama has entered her final days. I shake her gently to let her know that I am here. Her eyes open wide and glazed as she stares, but doesn’t see.
“Mama, it’s Donna,” I tell her.
She has lost her words, but Mama still understands the meaning of touch. She grabs my finger and pushes it to the top of her head.
Somehow I instinctively understand that Mama wants me to kiss the top of her head. I gently do so, stroking the thin white hair that once was her crowning glory, but now lies uncombed on her pillow. Trembling, Mama then takes my index finger and presses it firmly to her own dry lips. Mama is still my Mama, not knowing my name, the name she herself gave me, but knowing with every fiber of her being that I am hers. My eyes brim and I almost crumble with grief, not the grief of loss, but the grief of suffering.
“How long, O Lord?” (Psalm 6:3)
“Discipline your emotions and do your next thing.” I sternly remind myself of the good advice received long ago from the great Elisabeth Elliot. Her wise counsel has served me well these many years, but the actions required are much harder to practice. I settle into the recliner next to Mama’s bed, watching and waiting.
How long, O Lord?
I remember glimpses from the past, scattered across my mind like waves across the sand, here a brief moment, but then swept away with the reality of this clear and present suffering.
Mama working as an elementary school secretary for 27 years, surviving at least four principals, and serving as nurse and counselor to countless students and teachers alike.
Mama taking my grandmother grocery shopping each Thursday afternoon after work, cashing Mam-Maw’s $10 checks to give her cash and later tearing up the checks.
Mama cooking supper and sending plates of food to our next door neighbor, a retired spinster school teacher who had no family living in Alabama.
Mama, buying our Christmas toys the day after Christmas, laying them away, making monthly payments all year long to insure that we would have Christmas with no debt. She spent the rest of the year convincing us all of what we REALLY wanted for Christmas.
Mama, canning and freezing corn, field peas, plum jelly, peaches, okra, tomatoes…whatever she could find to stock our large chest freezer with food for the long winter months which often brought, not just cold weather, but steel workers’ unemployment.
I remember what avid Alabama football fans my Dad and Mama were; that is, until they watched Bruce play football for Auburn and paid for me to go to pharmacy school there. Someone challenged Mama on her new found allegiance to the Tigers. She quickly responded, “My kid AND my money go to Auburn. War Eagle!” They say the converts are the worst fans. Mama was a convert for sure.
The Psalmist tells us that our days on earth are numbered before there was even one of them. I, like countless generations before me, find great comfort in God’s sovereignty knowing that He loves Mama far more than I do. He has a purpose for our pain. The Apostle Paul writing his letter to the Romans wrote that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) Mama and James Bruce are just two of those “all things."
“Your suffering is never for nothing,” writes Elisabeth Elliot. The Apostle Paul agrees writing to Roman Christians reminding them that our suffering leads to maturity here and glory hereafter (Romans 8:18).
And so we pray and wait knowing that God's purpose for Mama's life- and mine- WILL be fulfilled. All of our days are ordered and Heaven rules. (Daniel 4:26)