There’s a thing called ‘DUSTING’

I try to trick myself on a daily basis that I’ve come to terms with my mother’s passing. Some days I can even convince myself that it was the best thing for her (she was in so much pain). But sometimes, I can’t sell myself the lie.

Today I’ve spent a good part of the day packing up my mom’s left over belongings. After seven years they’re still key objects that haven’t been packed yet. I picked up an angel figuring that I remember use to sit in different locations in my parents room. Mom moved it around all the time, I think she just loved to look at it, as do I.

I picked it up off the shelf and I said a little prayer out loud, “Lord, please don’t let any of these things break.” I placed the angel on my bed to grab newspaper to wrap it in – and then, I stood in shock and terror as it rolled off the bed and bounced on the carpet towards the tile hallway. I knew if it bounced on the tile that it would break. “Don’t break!” I cried out as it stopped a few inches away from the tile. I rushed to the angel’s side, held it in my hands and to my chest .Then, I had a panic attack.

As I stood there, holding the angel tight to my heart, I tried to remember how to breathe and cried heavily. As I became frantic I prayed a pleading prayer, “Please God, don’t let anything break! Please don’t let anything break. Please God! Don’t let anything break!... It’s all I have left… It’s all you’ve left me…”

I sat on the bed, still holding the angel close to my heart as a memory came back to me.

I was about 13 or 14; mom and I were Spring-cleaning my room. Mom was up on a ladder dusting off the shelves above my window, she had been picking on me all afternoon about how dusty my room was. “There’s a thing called dusting, you know,” she repeated over and over as we both laughed and giggled.

I sat on the bed smiling slightly as I heard her playful tone, “There’s a thing called dusting! Gosh Stella!”

The Lord has left me more than just her belongings. He left me happy memories of our time together and a sense of knowing that He cares for me and mourns with me.