Where the Rubber Meets the Road

     Y'all, it's nap time so I'll try to be quick, because when those two little feet hit the floor it'll be non-stop again until that sweet head lays back down for the night.  I've got one at the kitchen table honing his spelling, another about to curl up beside me with a "Bob" book, and the girl is supposed to be in her room cleaning.  I have a feeling she has a slew of dolls scattered across her floor, each wrapped up in a blanket and waiting on their turn to eat.  Fat dog is stretched out snoring and I have a moment to inhale and exhale.  
     I'm sitting here thinking about the layers that have surrounded my heart.  So many, so different.  At times they have been as thick as a calloused hand that swings a hammer all day.  Layers.  My heart.  Stone.  Thankfully, He hasn't left me this way, and boy, has He done a work on my heart.  Peeling back those layers.  Some of them, I waved goodbye to with a smile on my face, "so long sucka"!  Others, I clung to and pulled them back over like a blanket in the middle of winter.  Some have hurt so bad that I wondered if the bleeding would stop.  "Can't we just leave that one alone, it hurts too bad."  And there have been those that I clung to as they were pulled from my grip, taking some of my flesh with them.  Peeling those layers meant feeling those layers, and laying waste to myself.  
     And that brings me to her.  The one who heard my wail in the middle of the night, stuck the birthday candles in my cakes, and stood over the stove time and time again throwing salt here and there making sure it tasted just right.  She's the one.  The one who put countless miles on her car going from gym to gym, made sure I had the latest jeans, and kept the house so clean you could eat off of the floor.  And one day, we looked up, and she stood on one side of the cliff and I stood across from her, with no bridge in between.  Years of eye rolling, word slinging, finger pointing, alcohol, resentment, unforgiveness, and brokenness had laid a trail of destruction until this deep, dark crevice stood between us.  Layer upon layer around my heart.  Her heart.  
     I actually struggled the most as a young mother.  Hudson was 3, Hollynn was barely sitting up on her own.  I would find myself sobbing, wanting desperately a mother who was there.  I would cry for her in the middle of the night and I would cry out to my Lord.  I will never forget driving to the barn one day, pouring it all out...again.  "Lord, I NEED my mother."  And I rattled off a list of why I needed her.  I was coming to the end of Ashley Road and He spoke straight into my weeping heart, "Linds., you don't NEED your mother, you want your mother.  What you need is Me in those areas."  I can even tell you the song that was playing in that moment, and in that moment, He began to peel those layers back.  It wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy, but He began to fill these gaping holes inside of me...with Himself.  
     Fast forward 7 years, our pastor was out of town one Sunday and asked Jason to fill in.  I was sitting there, listening to my man talk about having friends and being the kind of friend who would tear the roof off for someone.  I thought, "I would tear the roof off for some folks!"  I could barely get the exclamation point on the end of my sentence when the Holy Spirit said to me, "Yeah, but not your Mom.  Would you physically tear the roof off for her?"  Y'all know how He is, He wouldn't stop.  So I went over the next day and we began a routine of walking together.  It was weird.  Awkward.  But one step at a time, that roof was going to be torn off.  With her cane in her right hand and my shoulder in her left, we tried to go a little farther each day.  Some days were easier than others.  In these days I began to see things were more complex than I had thought and tearing off this roof wasn't just going to be physical like I had originally planned.  Casey and I needed to step into some areas, and with a quickness.  
     Fast forward a few more months.  It was a Wednesday, I went over to walk and things just weren't right.  I grabbed her a few times to keep her from falling over and constantly reminded her to pick her cane up as she was dragging it along the asphalt.  I called Casey and told her something wasn't right.  We tossed several things around and figured she was either detoxing or having mini strokes.  Casey took her to the dr., who then sent her to the ER, who then sent her to Nashville.  That's where she's been for the past several weeks.  Fighting through several things.  Detox-she's been sober now for 4 weeks, and for 4 weeks, I have celebrated this in my heart.  A stroke-she did have a stroke in her frontal lobe.  She is now in rehab at the hospital where she receives PT, OT, and Speech Therapy daily.  Hydrocephalus- she will have a shunt put into her brain in a few weeks to hopefully help with this.  She has a long road ahead of her.  But she has a feisty, organized, driven (did I mention 8 months pregnant) daughter on one side of her.  And on the other side, she has me.  Wild, determined, me.  
     So, what's next?  To get out of rehab and home.  To continue therapy and take things one day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time, one second at a time.  The other day I was watching her nurse help her up out of her wheelchair and into her hospital bed.  When Mom stood up, I read the back of her shirt.  It was a Lady Vol shirt proudly displaying one of my Aunt's well known sayings, "Left foot, right foot, breathe, repeat."  And that's exactly what we are going to do.  One step at a time, one breath at a time, and then we are going to do it over again. 
    We are erecting that bridge, too.  We've (by we, I mean mostly Jason) been doing a lot of cleaning, organizing, tearing down, and building up.  That bridge is going up right across the hall from my bedroom.  My home will be her home and it is well.  
     And that song that was playing when I sat at the end of Ashley Road with tears dripping off of my chin says these words:
"Places where grace is soon to be so amazing
It may be unfulfilled, it may be unrestored
But you never know the miracle the Father has in store
Just watch and see, it will not be
Just watch and see, it will not be unredeemed"
     So, I praise my Redeemer, for showing me what my real "need" was.  Him.  Always Him.  And I thank Him for throwing some icing on my cake.  Her.