I wrote two little stories about my mom, Rose Scordato, back in 2015. The first one was written in February, about 10 months before she went to be with God. The second was written on Mother’s Day, a few months later. I am posting them on this Mother’s Day in honor of her memory. Mom’s PrayersEvery night, while the sun was setting and the warm summer evening air was causing the palm trees beyond the window to sway, Mom and Dad watched Jeopardy in their Florida condo. Dad would sit in his big recliner, and mom in her smaller chair or on the sofa. Dad would try to guess the answers—or really, the questions. He was usually wrong but sometimes he was spot on. Mom, who speaks broken English, just listened, but probably understood more than she would let on. She would say to Dad, “Richie, these people, they’re so smart”. During the break between the programs Dad would go into the kitchen and bring them back a little snack, maybe a cup of tea or something left over from supper. Mom would get up for a few minutes to stretch her legs and attend to this or that. Then they’d both settle into their chairs again, this time to watch Wheel of Fortune. Dad was pretty good at figuring out the phrases. Mom just listened and was amused, partially by the reactions of the contestants when they figured out the phrases and made a lot of money, partially at Dad’s reactions to the contestants’ reactions. Dad didn’t feel well and Mom worried about Dad, but aside from that life was fairly cozy, comfortable, and predictable. All five kids had married, most of the kids and grandkids were living in other states, so life consisted of going to church, going to prayer meeting, going to Bible Study, having phone conversations with out-of-state family members, having guests over—they loved to share their home with others and were a gracious host and hostess-- and watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. It was an empty nest, but Mom and Dad did what they could to fill it with whatever joy and happiness they could. Family and friends were important, God was at the center, and nothing else really mattered. Now Dad is in heaven, the Florida condo has been sold, and Mom is living at a seniors’ residence in New Jersey. Every night, as the sun sets and the cold New Jersey wind starts to blow against the empty winter branches of the oaks outside her window, Mom settles into her little chair in her little room and watches Jeopardy. “These people, they are so intelligent”, she says of the contestants, when I visit her on Wednesday nights, and we watch Jeopardy together. “How did they get to be so smart?” When they win some money she is really happy for them, and when they get a wrong answer she is genuinely disappointed. During the break between the programs she munches on something so she doesn’t need to take her medicine on an empty stomach. Then she takes her medicine, downs a little plastic cupful of water, and settles back into her little chair to watch Wheel of Fortune. She tries to guess at the phrases, but because she speaks broken English she’s not very good at it; still, she tries her best. Her life is simple. She goes to church, she goes out to prayer meeting or Bible Study when she can, but she stays in her room a lot, too—there’s not much to do but they do try to keep her busy at the seniors’ residence, and she tries to stay as involved as she can. She tries to keep a good attitude and is usually successful, but sometimes she feels very tired and weary. The kids visit when they can, but some of them are out of state, so she is alone more often than she would like. Still, she tries to fill her little room with whatever joy and happiness she can. Family and friends are important, God is at the center, and nothing else really matters. When I visit her, we pray together. In her broken English, Mom prays for her kids, for her grandkids, for her church, for the problems of the world… the sincere prayers of a simple woman who lives a simple life and who has learned what is really important. She has learned the lessons that life has taught her, and she has learned them well. Her family needs her prayers, and the world needs her prayers. Her prayers rise up from her little room in New Jersey and reach the throne of heaven, where her Heavenly Father hears, and His heart is moved—and so is mine. I love to hear Mom pray! Reversal of Roles(Mother’s Day 2015)
How helpless my mother would feel during those days when I was a child, and I was running a fever or had caught the latest virus or flu from some kid at school, or had come down with the measles or the mumps, and I was feeling miserable. “I wish I could do something to make you feel better”, she would say to me. She would watch me toy with my food, take a very small spoonful to my mouth, try to swallow, and then announce that I wasn’t hungry. “If only he would take a few more spoonsful, maybe he’d feel better sooner”, she must have said to herself. I wonder if she used to lie awake at night hoping that I was sleeping soundly, whispering a silent prayer, hoping that I’d feel better in the morning. Now I visit my mother who is not well. As I hold her weary hand I say to her “I wish I could do something to make you feel better”. I watch her toy with her food, take a few spoonsful to her mouth followed by a little sip of grape juice, and turn away the rest: “I’m not feeling very hungry tonight. I’ve had enough”. I think to myself “If only she would take a few more spoonsful, maybe she’d regain her strength”. As I try to fall asleep at night I wonder if she’s sleeping soundly, and I whisper a silent prayer, hoping that she’ll feel better in the morning.
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