Tuesday, March 27, 2012


It was just a day, not unlike any other.  Sunny and warm.  Spring.  With Easter only a couple of weeks away, we made plans to do something that mothers and daughters do all the time, ones that are blessed enough to live close to one another.

I picked her up at home.  She sat beside me in the front seat, as she always has.  We talked.  I drove.  I got a spot up close, and she pushed one of those carts back inside the store that had been left outside, ones that are smaller and more discreet that those found at Walmart or Winn Dixie.

We shopped.  We looked, compared, and talked of color.  We laughed at some, turned our nose up at others.  We gasped when we found the one she will wear on Easter Sunday.  It was perfect.

No talk of cancer, of scars that are healing or scans to come.  Sometimes it's nice not to talk of them at all. Just to be who we we've always been for a few hours, mother and daughter, bonded right down to the core.  That's who we'll always be.  Somehow, even when we're forced to talk about the ugliness that invades her body, we are just who we are.  It's nice to have something that never changes.

Sweet Jesus, I thank you for today.  To anyone looking in on us, they would never know how precious it really was, what a special moment they were witnessing.  I praise You alone for giving me another Easter dress outing with her, one I will never forget.  I thank you for allowing me to watch her dignity and grace as she fights the battle before her.  In Your Holy Name, I pray... Amen.