If life were a plate, hers would be one of those over sized rectangle styrofoam kinds separated into compartments that we all see at family reunions and 4th of July picnics. They are so large that it becomes difficult to balance the weight of all various foods, and I am always afraid the thin styrofoam will break (surely we've all had that experience of the styrofoam giving way ~ it happens!).
So, if my mom's plate were in front of you right now, it would look like this: all the compartments would be full, overflowing, in fact, and the food items would be melding together. The peas would be pouring over into the butter beans. The corn on the cob would have the butter bean juice on it. The barbecue chicken would be pressed up against the corn and a beautiful white fluffy roll would threaten to soak up all the delicious barbecue sauce. I think you get the point... and I think I just made myself hungry.
Anywho... my mom. In one compartment is her cancer. The fact that she must conserve her energy. The knowledge that she can't overdo. In another compartment is her own mother, 91 and in a nursing home by herself. In yet another compartment of the plate is her daddy, 92 and alone at home (with the help of round the clock sitters) who fell just yesterday and I don't have the current medical status on. In another square we would find the piles of bank statements and insurance information and medicare forms and household bills that come along with the aging parents. Just to the side of that would be the insurance statements and appointment cards and doctors' bills with my mother's name on them. And then, of course, we can't forget the laundry and necessary day to day of any household. I don't know about you, but I am overwhelmed just typing it all.
Here's the thing about my mom ~ she's a pillar of strength. If there's one thing she has taught me how to do through example it is how to remain calm and collected in stressful times. I don't (and don't believe I ever will) do it as gracefully as she does, but I sure do try. Even though she appears calm and happy, she balancing so much that she's got to be frazzled and exhausted. Though she wouldn't dare let anyone know, she's worn out and running out of steam. And I am coveting the prayers of anyone reading these words right now. Pray for my sweet mama. Please.