Devotion 7-21-21

Devotion with Kim Wu

I wish I had called my parents more often during those busy years of raising our two girls.  Mom and Dad didn’t often call me; they waited to hear from me first.  They said they knew we had a lot going on and didn’t want to bother us when it might be a bad time.  That was their way.

And in the years after my dad passed away and I went down to Newport News to see my mom every few weeks, I wish I had spent less time cleaning her house, and running errands for her.  I wish I had spent more time sitting down and listening to her stories

I know that Mom and Dad, if they could tell me now, would say, “Don’t worry.  We knew you loved us and we understood.  It’s okay.”    Sometimes when I look back at hard moments or times of hurt with my own girls, I think about telling them, “Don’t worry.  I knew you loved me and I understood.  It’s okay.  Those teen years are rough.”

A few months after my dad passed away, Mom came up here to stay with me for a week.  During that visit, she had a stroke, and that was the beginning of a series of health issues that had her hospitalized for two straight months here in Northern Virginia.  At the time, I was not working and my kids were old enough that I could be at the hospital with her every day, for most of the day.

I arrived each morning with a newspaper in hand because Mom loved to start her day with the paper.  And if the hospital’s coffee wasn’t very good on any particular day or wasn’t hot enough (Mom liked her coffee HOT), I knew where to find better coffee in the building.

I was Mom’s advocate in getting the care and attention she needed, as well as her emotional support as the weeks went by with no scheduled release date.  One of the nurses said to Mom one day, “You must have done something right as a parent, to have family to care for you like this.”

A friend summed it up well for me when she commented that it was an honor to be able to care for a parent.  They sacrificed for me as I grew up, and I was glad to be able to sacrifice for them.  There’s no wishing I had done things differently on this count.


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