Paw

I sit here today with an anxiety-ridden stomach ache, wanting to say something inspiring, something worth reading, but not knowing what that is. You see, my mother-in-law (everyone calls her Paw) is declining in health daily. She was pretty good on her eighty-fifth birthday. We threw her a party that she said she didn't want, but she seemed to have a good time, and she is always a good sport about things. She looked very pretty. Since then, though, she has been declining really quickly. She is completely bedridden, can hardly hear, and the Parkinson's disease has made it difficult for her to speak or eat properly. She now takes most of her medications orally, since it is so hard for her to swallow. She is wasting away because she doesn't eat much. She is tiny and frail. Now, to most folks, that sounds like what should happen to someone of her advanced age with the disease that her body suffers. The problem is, I don't think of her like that.

The Betty I remember was always doing something. She worked practically her entire life at a job. Then, if she wasn't physically in the yard cutting grass, puttering in flower beds, weeding gardens, watering plants, etc., she was in the house cooking and making meals from literally nothing, cleaning, or tending to myriads of children. Even when she was sitting, she was sewing on yo-yos or something. She was rarely idle. I learned from her how to make biscuits, how to make gravy, and how far you could stretch a small piece of meat to feed an entire family. You take one bite of meat, then three bites of bread. Voila! She taught me many things.

I had no idea families could be like hers. I was blessed to be married into her family. My family life at my house was not as idyllic as hers. Now, that doesn't mean they didn't have problems with the heater, the appliances, etc., it just meant that she ran a house like she ran her life. It is what it is and you make the best of it. She wasn't a big complainer. She was a "do the best you can with what you've got" kind of person.

Everyone liked going to Paw's house. It was a joyful place to go, because she always had time for us. There was always something to do. The kids played outside more than in. She sang to our kids, she listened to our complaints, she nurtured. At one point in our lives, we spent every single Sunday afternoon at her house, starting with dinner after church and then the rest of the afternoon outside in some capacity or other. She would get up way before everyone else and get the dinner started before she even got her kids up. Then she went to church with them.

I learned to love Jesus being around her. I met the Holy Spirit at one of the Bible Study meetings at her friend's house. I learned to worship my Jesus with abandon by watching her. She was a good role model. We had many theological discussions sitting in her living room. Not to say we didn't butt heads every once in awhile, but the good outweighed the bad about 95 to 1. She has always been precious to me. I hope she knows how much I love her.

As I contemplate her passing, I am saddened because I will miss her so very much. Her great-grandchild just got saved a few weeks ago because of her. Her legacy will live on.

Addy Lin, who is five, says, "You can't be sad. When Paw goes to heaven, she will be able to walk, to run, to talk, and to hear. She will be with Jesus. You gotta be happy about that."

Yeah, I guess I will be happy about that. I will be happy that she is in the arms of Jesus. I will just be sad because I will be missing the person. I will be sad for me because I will be missing my mother-in-law who felt more like a mother than an in-law. I will miss her sweet spirit. I will miss her unconditional love.