Thanks, Mom…

Marie Logan Scott is my Mom. She still lives in the home that we grew up in.

KA, my sister, left in 1974. Mary Marie, my sister too, left in 1975 and I followed suit in 1977. Chet & Marie stayed. Doc Scott continued to practice medicine and Marie Logan returned to her love as a nurse. Together, they simply carried on…

In 1996 my Dad left us all. Bone cancer took down the Doc. Suddenly, Marie Logan Scott found herself alone. Mom weathered this storm too. She lived through the Dust Bowl, the great depression,being abandoned by her father at age five, the untimely, early death of her Mom and her only brother, Bryce. Mom knows a thing or two about the struggle.

Today, at 87 years old, Mom just keeps moving. In fact, today, she has already enjoyed breakfast at home. She’s driven herself to Church and walked up the stairs to the back door. She’s walked in and grabbed the railing as she descends a set of stairs into “fellowship hall.” Here, she and a dozen of her friends enjoy some “fellowship” getting tired together. They stretch and strain their bodies from 9-10AM. No machines, just their bodies. Nobody talks about their arthritis or their obvious aches and pains. They just work it. After hanging out for her cool down and conversation, Mom is back in her car and headed to Asbury Hospital. No, she’s not checking in. No, she’s not going on some kinda visitation tour.

She is going to work.

From noon to 4pm, Marie will serve as a volunteer nurse. She’ll turn beds, clean rooms, help move patients, and whatever else needs to be done. As her work day comes to a close, Mom will drive herself home where she’ll be greeted by no one. She will make herself supper, watch a little Fox news and begin to pray for her grandchildren by name. Tonight she will turn in early as she’s no spring chicken, you know. Tomorrow is another day with chores that have to be done. Tomorrow Marie will make her rounds to visit her “shut ins” and take care of some that are less fortunate. Marie has embraced the struggle. Marie has faced her pain. Marie has chosen to keep moving. Marie has chosen to find purpose and meaning for her life. And, she’s done it mostly on her own. Marie has managed to live alone and remain connected. Marie, somehow, made it happen.

Thanks, Mom, for modeling the way. Thanks, Mom, for embracing the pain. Thanks, Mom, for embodying truth in LOVE. Thanks, Mom, for believing in me way before I did. Thanks, Mom, for all your prayers and your patience with me. Thanks, Mom…