Mom's Dark Face

 

And it came to pass,

when Moses came down from Mount Sinai

with the two tables of testimony in Moses' hand . . .

the skin of his face shone;

and they were afraid to come nigh him.

— Exodus 34:29a-30b

 

 

I have this sorority sister in another state who is gorgeous and smart and nice. When you're with her, she makes you think that you are the most important, accomplished and interesting person in the world.

 

So I wasn't surprised to learn that she is doing a magnificent job caring for her 81-year-old widowed mom. Once again, she is excelling and paving the way for the rest of us.

 

 

 

That's Melissa on the right, with her equally gorgeous sister Marcy and their mom.

 

 

My mother, you see, kids us that she has raised a brood of slackers in the elder-care department. She believes the day will come when she will need us to bring her Meals on Wheels. But we will be so lazy, so heartless, that we will only slow down to 25 mph as we drive by her home and sling a McDonald's sack at the door, then lay scratch to the bar or casino.

 

She also believes wholeheartedly that we are planning to stick her in the teensiest, tiniest nursing home room we can find, to save maybe 14 bucks a month. And so, to foil us, she is going to take up a new hobby - the PIPE ORGAN. If you have to have a PIPE ORGAN in your nursing home room, it can't be that small.

 

Of course, I'm only kidding. I just hope I can semi-measure up to the elder care that my friend Melissa renders to HER mom. She was an angel during her father's final illness last fall, spending every waking moment with him and her mother during three weeks in the hospital, caring for his every need. He died three days after his release, in the living room of his own home, with his beloved wife and their faithful housekeeper by his side, a good death after a good life.

 

Now, Melissa's mother also has been battling Stage 3C ovarian cancer for the last few years. It spread to her liver just last year, and she had finished chemotherapy. She had been feeling fine, thank God. Her test results continued to be within range, and her illness was back-burnered during her husband's hospitalization and death.

 

She is now trying to live a normal widow's life, writing letters to her friends, dreaming about swimming again, and taking care of her late husband's paperwork. 

 

But last Saturday, Melissa and her husband stopped by to see her. Melissa couldn't help noticing that her mother looked a little dark in the face.

 

Ohhhhh, noooooooo, she thought to herself, anxiety gripping her throat. The cancer has come back!

 

She didn't say anything to her mother. In the car, she asked her husband if he had noticed it. He hadn't.

 

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was the light in the room.

 

She suppressed her fear until Thursday, when she got an early-morning phone call from the housekeeper. She sounded worried: "I think your mother's face is getting darker!"

 

The housekeeper had asked Melissa's mom if she had put on makeup, because her face was so dark. The answer was no.

 

"Does it look yellow to you?" Melissa asked, her heart in her throat.

 

"Maybe a little yellow," was the reply.

 

Oh, no!

 

She WASN'T wrong!

 

It WAS back!

 

She immediately called her mother's oncologist and primary care doctor; they arranged a liver profile test. Melissa planned to accompany her, to BE THERE for her.

 

But before that day rolled around, while she was parking her car at the local Wal-Mart, Melissa got a phone call from her mother. She said she had something to read to her.

 

A last will and testament? A goodbye letter? Melissa braced herself.

 

Her mother proceeded to read a long list of ingredients over the phone - ingredients of a special, new lotion that she had purchased the week before - a lotion that was supposed to take care of age spots and varicose veins.

 

Sunless Tanning Lotion!

 

That wasn't the ravages of cancer on her mother's face! That was a nice little tint!

 

Apparently, the cleaning lady had spilled the beans about their concerns, and the two of them had figured it out.

 

Melissa was crying and laughing with relief so hard in the car that she practically dropped the phone. She proudly stated, "Oh, Mother, you can call the oncologist and cancel; we know now why your face was getting darker."

 

God is with us. So go ahead, face your fears. Confront 'em. Look 'em right in the face.

 

You'll find out they're never as dark as you think. †