It's been 44 years - 44 years of changing lives, one student at a time.
When the rain started coming down last week I thought to myself, "Great. Mud. Humidity. Bad hair days. Ugh." That was the extent of my complaints and annoyances. I was also bothered, because I knew it meant that Mary Frances would have rain on her field trip to the zoo on Thursday. She'd have to sit on soggy grass, trying to hold an umbrella with one hand and eat with the other. Then of course, I was also irritated with the fact that I would have to fight with my own umbrella trying to walk to my building at work, fighting the wind that was quite determined to turn my umbrella inside out forcing me to get wet; but while the rain brought me so many aggravations, it would take only one text message to change all that.
"...today may have been her very last day. She's ending her 44yr teaching career in a wheelchair." It was a text from my sister letting me know the results of my mother's MRI. An impacted fracture in the left knee; bound to a wheelchair for the next 12 weeks. This was supposed to be the grandest finale of them all. We've watched her struggle with the decision to retire for the last few years, and now, when she's finally ready, working at preparing herself for these final months, this happens. When I spoke with her, the frustration and desperation in her voice was almost more than I could handle, but I kept it together, for her. It was the least I could do; she'd done it so many times before for the rest of us. At that moment I was angry. Angry that for someone who does so much for everyone else wouldn't get her chance to "walk" away the way she wanted to. Angry that I wasn't their to sit with her. Angry that I lived so far. Angry that my sister could be there and I couldn't. But after only a few minutes of being angry, I realized I was wrong to feel that way; I needed to be grateful.
It was such a mixture of emotions for me. I knew I was being angry FOR her, but deep down I knew it was something that needed to happen. God has been trying to get her to slow down for a while now, but she refuses. Always taking on more than her share, always being the last one there, always putting everyone and everything else before herself...God had enough. I told her that the next morning when I called her. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes I reminded her that this was God's way of saying He was gonna do things His way, not hers. I told her that He had plans for her, but that He needed her to be healthy. She understood, but through her own tears she admitted what I had suspected, that it was the "not knowing" that bothered her. The idea that she now had to depend on others when all the while she was the one being depended on. I'm sure you're wondering why I would be grateful over something that was causing my mother such sadness and despair...well, it's quite simple. Having her realize, even through force, that she needed to slow down gives me the hope that she'll be around longer. She'll have no more deadlines, or whiney students, or paperwork to do that would keep her up till all hours of the night, just the responsibility of taking care of herself; allowing others to be there for her. In a matter of 48 hours I aged 10 years. More than ever I realized I was no longer the child, but the adult. I'm completely grateful that the injury isn't as worse as it could be and that she'll only be in the wheelchair for 12 weeks, as opposed to 12 months, but what's heartbreaking is to see her feel truly helpless; phobic of having to be stuck in a chair. While this may be her reality now, what we see is something completely different.
My mother is a go-getter. A fighter who refuses to go down without a fight. I refuse to accept the idea that this is it for her and while she may not return to the classroom I still believe there's something more she will do. She has spent her life teaching so many...students, teachers, her family, the church and anyone who dared to cross her path. Regardless of the untimeliness, we will celebrate her accomplishments, her selflessness and the difference she has made for so many. I don't see last week's rain as such an annoyance now, instead, it was exactly what we all needed - wash away the old and begin anew. The rain may have made it dark and cloudy those few days, but the sun will rise and tomorrow is a new day and while we may not know what tomorrow holds for her, I'm just happy knowing that, God willing, she has a tomorrow, and another, and another...
Till next time...
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