My mother's daughter

One of the greatest joys of my adult life is getting to spend every Saturday morning watching my momma sing. Yes, watching. It was something I didn't really appreciate as a little girl, and certainly not as a rotten teenager. I didn't understand when people would come up to her after church & tell her they loved watching her sing but now, I see it. The words that come out of her mouth don't simply resonate from her vocal chords but from every fiber of her being.
After two not so great days for grandma, there are a few things we've had to accept that tend to leave us with heavier hearts & longer faces. I had a conversation with my children this afternoon, with age appropriate information coupled with a plea for their help at home & the cry of my heart leaking through the surface. "I wish that we could remind time & catch grandma from falling. Oh how I wish that I could spare you guys from this pain." But pain is a part of life. It is, as C.S. Lewis' stepson reminded me in his intro to A Grief Observed, the part of life that reminds us what the cost of love really is. In this life, without pain, there is no true love.
As momma & I sat on grandma's couch this evening, we could hear the TV in her room. We had been talking when momma just stopped. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, escaping through her tightly shut eyelids. Then, as I do every Saturday morning, I watched her begin to sing.

No guilt in life, no fear in death.
This is the power of Christ in me.
From life's first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from his hand.
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

She opened her eyes. I had choked back the tears when she began talking, "I wish that I could take this pain from you guys. But (she began crying harder) I just can't." With tears streaming down my face, I looked at this amazing woman that God gave me, of all people, and was once again reminded of the gift that she not only is, but that she continues to give in the middle of her own grief. I put my hand on hers, "But momma, you're not supposed to."
So many memories & emotions came crashing down on me as I remembered the morning that Papaw died. We were supposed to go see him the night before but momma was so tired, so exhausted. I remember hearing the phone ring & knowing exactly what it meant. I remember stepping out my bedroom door to be met by my mother, who had just suffered the greatest loss of her life, in tears, begging me not to hate her. Begging me to forgive her for not going the night before. Here she was completely broken and yet still worried about saving me from pain.
I've never held that against her. Even as a selfish, self-centered 15yrs old, I just wanted my momma not to hurt but I couldn't stop her pain either. I can't now, even though I want to again. 
I guess I'm a little more like my momma than I give myself credit sometimes. I've often told people that she's like a little Jesus with skin on & that if I could even be a tenth of the woman that she is, I would be ok. As I sat there tonight with her, I realized that I am my mother's daughter. I wish more than anything that I could carry this load for her. I wish that I could take her pain away & tell her that it's going to be alright. But the truth is, I can't take her pain away anymore than she can take mine. Things aren't going to be all right, but they'll be exactly what God has for us. The same God that brought us to this place will stay here with us until he moves with us onward.
So as the days seemingly creep by too quickly, we will continue this dance. We will continue to look to our Comforter, our All in All. Because HERE in the power of Christ is where we will stand, hurting as deeply as we love, singing our hearts' cry.