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 89 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.

Sometime later today Marie will arrive at Asbury Hospital to pray with patients prior to their surgery. She’ll be with them in their time of need. She loves giving this gift. 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. Thanks, Mom, for modeling the way, embracing the pain, and embodying truth in LOVE. Thanks, Mom, for believing in me way before I did and for all your prayers and your patience with me.

Funny, isn’t it, this strong woman who loves me more than I can even imagine can tie my stomach in knots and set my spirit soaring. Her words hurt and heal – even her glance. All relationships, no matter how transforming, are both poison and wine. Think about it, if iron sharpens iron, doesn’t it make sense, sometimes, those that make you better are gonna make you bitter? Remember, friends, home is where heart and hurt reside. Let that sink in. Your home is where heart and hurt take up residence. Embrace this – your relationships just got better. Funny, huh…

Thanks, Mom for sharing some of your strength with me. I’ve got a lot of sharpening ahead of me…