It was a terrible, smoky week here in Northern California. It was a week when the number of people missing and dead from the Camp Fire in Paradise grew. My daughter’s big cross country meet had to be postponed because of smoke. Also, my son’s Lego Robotics competition, the one that his team had been preparing for since August? It was flat-out canceled, also because of smoke.
Also, this week, we passed the one year anniversary of my Mom’s death.
Dark days, I tell you.
Except somehow in these days, light broke through. I got gobsmacked by unexpected grace.
Saturday I was at my daughter’s rescheduled cross country meet, the one that sends the fastest runners off to the state meet in Clovis. I was thinking of my Mom. We were just about to the actual anniversary day of her death. I was hoping that my Mom’s spirit, her love, would somehow give my daughter a little extra speed. She had a chance of qualifying for the state meet, but she would have to run one of her best races ever. This would be challenging, since she had missed a few days of practice because of the smoky air and didn’t feel great.
Here’s the good news.
She did it! She nabbed the final qualifying individual spot. We will be heading down South soon to watch her race in the state meet, the final race of her high school cross country career.
After the race, I talked to my Mom a little. I told her thank you.
A few minutes later, just as we were leaving the race for home, I received an unexpected email from a friend. He had been going through pictures, he said, and found some of my parents.
There on my phone, nearly a year after she passed away, was my Mama. And not just photo of her. It was one that I’d never seen before, of her in Guatemala. She is beaming with her arms around two children who are holding roosters. She looks so much like her self, the best version of herself, just the way I always remember her.
It was such a gift, to get that new picture of my Mom on a day when I was talking to her, on a day when my daughter had run a fabulous race, and just hours before the anniversary of my Mom’s death.
My friend didn’t know that it was almost a year to the day since she passed.
I think someone, somewhere did, though. There are no coincidences. But there is love that stretches beyond time and space, and hugs that hold us when we need them most. On this Thanksgiving, I give thanks for fast runs, and for qualifying for big meets, and for all of you who are reading this, and for the love that surrounds us, holds us, and stays with us always.
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I know this post has been here for awhile, but I just got a note from the other side myself and i know this is a safe place to share it. It’s a round-about story with several threads, so bear with me. My mother is living in a care home now, she has dementia and end stage heart failure. She is well cared for and the hospice nurse visits regularly. For the last few weeks she has been reminding me to be on the look out for her Mama and Daddy because they’re on their way to see us. I gulp and say how nice it will be to see them. Last week I asked her who all was coming, how many places should we set at the table? She told me she hoped her brother and Grandma Stanley would come. From all I can tell, Grandma Stanley was a cranky old woman with little tolerance for grand kids, but she favored my Mom. She would send Mom out to her garden to pick lettuce and radishes and she’d make Wilted Lettuce Salad for their lunch. Mom liked it when she cut up a boiled egg to put on top.
So a few days ago, I was reading a daily meditation from Richard Rohr that touched me, and I glanced through the comments on the Facebook page just to see what others were saying. There was an eloquent comment there from a name I didn’t recognize as a regular commenter, so I clicked on the profile to see who this was. The top post on her facebook page was a recipe for wilted lettuce salad. With radishes and boiled egg. I’m keeping my eye peeled for grandpa’s pick up truck to pull into my driveway.