This morning, my parents and I were remembering how sick I was as a child. I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis when I was only 4 years old. From that time on, my joints stiffened, muscles weakened, and pain increased. I was unable to wash or comb my hair, button a button, or open a car door. My mother did all those things for me for years that I was unable to do for myself. She also took me to physical therapy and doctors appointments. It’s no wonder that I find myself doing the same for her. And I can due to the miraculous “remission” of the arthritis after my experience at Lourdes, where my mother took me. Today was the Feast of the Holy Family. Some of the scripture readings included the direction of children to honor their mother and father. This was the highlight of the homily as well. The priest said that he has the opportunity to visit nursing homes once a week. He hears all too often of the loneliness that the residents experience and how they are forgotten by their “loved ones”. I thought about how different my parents’ lives would be if they were moved to a facility. I am grateful that God has put on my heart to care for my parents at this point in their lives, even though it can be difficult. My mother cared for me when it was difficult, it’s the least I can do.
I Found God today being grateful for my mother’s care and the care I’m able to return.