Day 48

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My Mama and I talked for the last time a week before she died.

We didn’t know it was our final conversation this side of heaven, of course. I’d called to check on her and Daddy, and while she didn’t normally like to talk on the phone very much—she’d been diagnosed with dementia, which really affected her speech and processing—she was definitely up for a conversation that Monday night. It took a lot of effort and energy on her part, but for about ten minutes she asked and answered questions, she laughed, and then I could tell she was ready to tell me good-bye.

“All right, Mama,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later. I love ya.”

And although her speech was very slow, her response was loud and clear. “Love you too,” she said.

Four days after that phone call Mama woke up Daddy in the middle of the night and told him she was having trouble breathing. By the time an ambulance got her to the hospital, she had stopped breathing. The EMTs eventually revived her, but she never woke up, and three days later she passed away. Our family continues to find great comfort in knowing that she is whole and free, that she has met Jesus face-to-Face.

None of that, however, changes the fact that I miss my mama. I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. And I want to be sure to tell you something that has crossed my mind countless times since she died: Of all the sweet things my mama said to me, that final “Love you too” absolutely means the most.

Mama and I didn’t have a perfect, Lorelai and Rory-ish mother-daughter relationship. We loved one another deeply, but we were different in many ways. Mama was gentle and patient and reserved; she kept many of her thoughts and feelings to herself. I am strong and stubborn and outspoken; I’ve kept approximately four feelings to myself over the course of my whole life. Mama and I shared great affection for faith, family, and home, but occasionally it was hard for us to understand each other because our personalities were so opposite.

Mama’s dementia diagnosis, though, threw everything in perspective. When I was with her, I tried to slow down—whether that was to help her into bed at night, to rub her legs when they ached, or to sit with her at the table as she lingered over her breakfast. The little things that had always mattered so much to Mama suddenly mattered a great deal to me because I knew our time together was precious. I had always adored her, but it became very important to adore her in the ways that spoke to her—not the ways that came most naturally to me.

Bottom line: you may not have as much time with your parents as you think. Scripture tells us to obey our parents and honor them (Ephesians 6:1–2). That doesn’t mean we’re always going to agree. But when it is possible (and sometimes it’s not because of circumstances beyond your control), love them well. It’s so easy to take the moments and the days and the months together for granted. Truly, though, you don’t know when a conversation might be your last.

So remember: lots of I love yous. Lots of compassion. Lots of grace.

It’s the very best way—because it’s His way.

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1. Have you ever experienced the death of a family member or close friend?




2. What did the Lord teach you in or through that relationship?




3. Is it important to you to be at peace with the people you love? To know there’s no lingering tension or resentment? Explain.




4. Do you try to have a “no regrets” policy in your relationships with family members and friends? Why or why not?




Today’s Prayer