Before I landed in New York for Easter, my husband found his 84-year old mother on the floor of her apartment. Alive, but unwell.
Fractured hip and life-threatening infections. Medical staff estimates she was laying there two days.
I’ll skip the long tale of her personality and her choosing to be alone.
Confused, disoriented and downright angry, being trapped in a hospital bed was an outrage to someone who attended Zumba classes well into her 80’s. The last time she was in a hospital was when she gave birth to my brother-in-law 61 years ago.
The nurses called multiple times. Once to say she was hitting them.
My brother-in-law came in from Brooklyn and he and my husband spent two weeks getting her out of the hospital and into a rehab/nursing facility.
The first day I saw her was in the nursing home on Easter Sunday. The second I sat down across from her wheelchair, I was stunned at her low-weight and disheveled appearance. I felt deeply concerned about her dying and still not having peace with the Lord.
My youngest daughter and I talked with her about Jesus countless times. Conversations were usually met with a shrug. Mother-in-law’s response over these many years was always, “I don’t understand. I just go to the Catholic church where I’m comfortable.”
Asking her again about salvation impressed upon my soul. My husband left us alone and I asked if she wanted to pray. After all these years, she agreed and spoke the words out loud after me.
Looking up, she said, “this seems so simple.” I explained that man makes it complicated, not God.
The next day she was unresponsive and back in the hospital with another infection.
My husband was traveling, so brother-in-law and I sat vigil at her bedside. Doctor took us into a different room, explaining that she was gravely ill and may not pull through.
The next morning, the three of us arrived to find her awake but asking to die. She immediately called me over, reached for my hand and said, “let’s pray again”. So, I did. Then, aloud she announced, “Jesus, I’m sorry for all of my sins, even though I said it before, I’m sorry.” She looked at me and said she was ready to die.
She has not. In her true fashion, this woman has been taken back to the nursing home where they are getting her through therapy for her hip. The infections are healing.
The day she woke up, I wiped her face and nose. Covered her chest for modesty. Held the straw while she tried to drink. I fed her chocolate pudding. Carefully sliding the plastic spoon under the oxygen tube as her mouth hung open, I couldn’t have imagined the moment.
First, that she would ever be so helpless. Second, that I would be the one feeding her.
Poor behavior sometimes receives undeserved kindness.
Grace isn’t earned, it’s given. Jesus lovingly gave it to me and I must do the same for others.
Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Luke 6:36 NIV
Our Father is kind; you be kind. Luke 6:36 The Message
Tales from a Mid-Lifer 
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