Instead I'll focus on another hard time in my life. We are now on the 8 year anniversary of my mother's stroke. I wrote in detail about the experience before. I can't believe it's been 8 years and I am truly thankful to God that after all this time she's still alive.
Because of having to be distant from others I haven't seen my parents for a few weeks. It's a really hard thing to go through. Normally, during this anniversary I like to see her and give her a big hug as I thank God for allowing me to have more time with her.
Her Alzheimer's is getting worse and it's hard to predict how much longer she has, but she's slowly fading away. I've cried many tears, prayed many prayers, but I'm holding onto all the memories I have with her and thankful that she's still with us.
My mother and I didn't always have the best relationship as I was growing up but she was the one person who had always been there for me. She rocked me to sleep when I was a baby, she kissed my boo boos, she cheered me on at my dance recitals and when I was twirling flags in the colorguard, she gave love and kindness to all of my friends who came to the house, and she is the reason I believe in God.
When I was little I would lay in bed having trouble falling asleep because my parents were fighting somewhere in the house. This is a part of my childhood I haven't shared out of respect for my father, and also these events don't even matter to me anymore. All is forgiven, but this moment I'm about to tell is so imperative when it comes to how my faith started. Anyway, my parents' fights were always brutal. It wasn't just yelling but it became physical too. I heard it all. I experienced what children shouldn't have to experience; but years later things did change, lessons were learned and forgiveness was made. A home should be the safest place for a child, unfortunately for me, it was the place I hated to be in. Sometimes after their fights when my dad was finally asleep in bed my mother would sneak into my room and sit at my desk and cry. I don't know why she chose my room and I guess she thought I was sleeping. One night she saw I was awake and she sat beside me on my bed and held me in her arms and said, "Don't worry, Jesus is going to take care of us." At that moment I began praying and asking Jesus to do just that. I held onto that belief and it's something I say to myself in every negative situation I am faced with, even now during what our world is currently going through.
Jesus was there watching over throughout the abuse. Jesus was there for me through all the hard times and the good times. He was there when I sat in my bedroom with a knife and a decision to end my life. Jesus was there as I watched my mother laying still and unconscious in the hospital bed when none of us were sure she was going to make it. He's here with me now as I struggle through my days of being stuck at home and anxiously waiting for life to get back to normal. I really don't know how I could live my days if I didn't have faith and I'm so thankful my mother introduced me to Him.
Just like you said, Mom, Jesus is taking care of us! I'm thanking God for her today and every day!
