A Resurrection Story

My mother often wound up in the hospital during the last decade of her life. She had good health insurance and a good many ailments, and she generally outstayed two or three hospital roommates.

One afternoon she got a new roommate, her third. But not for long, I thought. Because this one was about to die. The tiny grey-haired woman, whom I'll call Mrs. Anderson, was sleeping the far distant sleep of the almost-dead. I have never seen a person more clearly under the shadow of death. She had left this planet in her mind, and her body was about to follow.

An aide brought her dinner and tried to shake her awake. Her oxygen tubes and IV tubes rattled, but she gave no response: he might as well have shaken a doll.

When I came back the next morning, my mother had no breakfast platter, as she was scheduled for a test that required an empty stomach. Mrs. Anderson had acquired a breakfast platter and a daughter who was trying to get her to eat from it. But Mrs. Anderson's eyelids didn't even flicker. She was still far from us, waiting in the anteroom of heaven.

Finally the daughter disappeared. Maybe she's Catholic, I thought, and she's gone for a priest to administer the last rites.

Turned out she'd done no such thing.

She'd gone to the airport and brought back her two sisters. And now there were three of them, all tall, slender, and blonde, all with a family likeness. And all attempting to resurrect their mother from the almost-dead.

"Mom? It's Deb. I flew clear from El Paso, just as soon as I heard."

No response.

"It's Connie. I've come to be with you. I love you, Mom. Please, please just open your eyes and look at me."

No response.

"Just look at me. Please. Please." Her voice was shaking.

Mrs. Anderson's eyes flickered just for a moment, then closed again.

One of the daughters disappeared. She returned an hour later laden with food. She had obviously hit a grocery store and hit it hard. Now they had their own grocery store. I wished my mother could have something from it, for lunchtime had come and gone, she had received no lunch tray, and the orderlies still hadn't come to take her to her test.

The Anderson daughters continued to struggle. "Mom? How about some mandarin oranges? You know you love mandarin oranges. Num num. Or a doughnut? Just one bite? It's chocolate frosted." No response. Her eyelids didn't flicker.

Why don't they leave the poor woman to die in peace? I thought.

"We need you, Mom. We love you. You can get well." But Mrs. Anderson was far from us. The shadow of death lay over her, thick and dark.

Silence fell. I glanced over at her. One of her daughters had climbed into bed with her. She was snuggled up like a snuggly spoon, cradling her mother's back in her young, warm bosom. One arm was over her mother, holding her close. She was willing her warm, loving life into her mother's almost dead bones.

Now there's an idea, I thought. And tears came to my eyes.

The hours of the afternoon dragged by. My mother lay uncomplaining as I went repeatedly to the nurses' station. Yes, they said, her name was on the list of those to be picked up for a test.

Two o'clock, three o'clock. Poor Mother had eaten no breakfast or lunch, and soon it would be too late for a dinner tray.

Four o'clock. Still the Anderson daughters crooned to their mother, talked to her, held her hand, stroked her hair. And took turns climbing into the hard, narrow hospital bed, snuggling up to her, and holding her tight in loving arms.

Her eyes were open now, as she lay there.

At four-thirty the orderlies came for my mother. She and I spent the next two and a half hours in the bowels of the hospital. Mother was unable to talk because of a stroke, and I stayed close to give her medical history to the imaging test technicians.

At seven they wheeled Mother back into her hospital room. And while we were gone a resurrection had taken place.

Mrs. Anderson was sitting up in bed, her eyes open, a smile on her face. Beside her bed were her daughters and, of course, the grocery store. Plus the remains of a dinner tray, which she had apparently sampled.

I was delighted for the Anderson daughters. Then my mind returned to my own mother. "She hasn't eaten for more than twenty-four hours!" I told the nurse indignantly. "And now it's too late for a dinner tray."

Then the Anderson daughters kicked in. "We've got lots of food over here!" they said joyously. They did indeed.

We settled on crackers and peanut butter from the nurses' station and a banana from the Anderson daughters. While Mrs. Anderson beamed on us from her bed.

"I was pretty sick for awhile there," she told me with an embarrassed smile. "But the girls said they needed me." She gave a loving look to her daughters.

"We do, Mom. We need you! You're going to get well." And they returned her loving look.

When I arrived the next day, Mrs. Anderson, her daughters, and her groceries were all gone, and an aide was putting fresh sheets on her empty bed.

"What happened to Mrs. Anderson?" I asked the aide, a new one who had witnessed none of the drama of the day before.

"Her? She was released this morning."

"She was well enough to go home?"

"Apparently. The doctor thought so anyway."

As a little girl on a Montana farm, Janette Blackwell ate simple but lusciously delicious country cooking. Which food she brings to you in her storytelling cookbook, STEAMIN' DOWN THE TRACKS WITH VIOLA HOCKENBERRY. Her website, http://www.foodandfiction.com, brings you country cooking and nostalgic stories, while, at http://www.delightfulfood.com, she takes you on a personal, guided tour of the hidden culinary treasures of the Internet. E-mail her at Janette@foodandfiction.com

---

Resistance to Change

All of us are resistant to change, whether it's in... Read More

A Path To Peace

The root of discord and violence between people and nations... Read More

A Life Touched

Direct Answers - Column for the week of February 17,... Read More

The Four Emotions that Can Lead to Life Change

Emotions are the most powerful forces inside us. Under the... Read More

How To Be Secure In An Insecure World

Most of us believe that our happiness and security are... Read More

Everyday is a Gift, Open and Enjoy It

There is a bottle of perfume sitting on my dresser... Read More

What Forgiveness Is Not

Is a grudge-laden heart sabotaging your success in business and... Read More

Duplicity

Direct Answers - Column for the week of January 26,... Read More

How Four Words Can Enhance Your Life Of Prayer (Pray More In My Hectic Day? You Cant Be Serious)

"I would like to pray more. But ... how to... Read More

The Shoemaker and the Brat

At seventeen years old, I was a brat. A mixture... Read More

Love the Opportunity

Somebody said you have to love what you do, but... Read More

Being Relatable in Todays World as a Christian

There are reasons we cross paths with those that we... Read More

Leaving The Child Behind. Recovery From Child Abuse

I looked at my father for the last time before... Read More

Even the Smallest Sound

You are probably in front of your computer screen at... Read More

Growing From Good To Great

I have never been fond of white-water rafting, probably because... Read More

Winning the Thought Battle

If you have read my articles or heard me speak,... Read More

The Emmaus Journal ~ Quietness

The Emmaus Journal QuietnessAs a state of being, quietness is... Read More

The Art of Letting Go

It has been six months since I left the corporate... Read More

Change

Those of you, who can fathom yourselves welcoming and enjoying... Read More

Are You The Master Of Your Destiny?

How strong are you? I'm not asking if you... Read More

I Believe in You!

Ally Becker came home from school after Varsity basketball practice... Read More

Escape into Reality and Find Love

The early months of this year brought major challenges, as... Read More

The Power of Courtesy and Kindness

I'm currently listening to The Secrets of the Power of... Read More

About Self Love

1. How do I love myself?2. How can I feel... Read More

Keeping Faith

Direct Answers - Column for the week of June 30,... Read More

Dont Let The Door Hit You Where The Good Lord Split You!

I knew precisely what I wanted. I felt that success... Read More

The Power Of A Dream - Success Always Start Off With A Dream

Back in the good old days of school, the teachers... Read More

Save the Planet with Your Joy!

Your own level of frequency raises or lowers the overall... Read More

Anamchara - Living An Essential Life

What is essential in your life? This question contains one... Read More

More Than I Can Bare

One of my long time best friends called me the... Read More

Live After 40

"For man, as a specie, and unlike other inhabitants of... Read More

Revenge in the End is Bitter Sweet

We ALL think or have thought about it at one... Read More

Lessons about Life in an Unexpected Place

Did you ever receive a gift in an unexpected place?I... Read More