Point of View

When you momma asks you to do something, you simply do it – especially if that same momma is in a hospital bed in her bedroom struggling for breath from a terminal lung disease.
When we moved the hospital bed into my mom’s room, it faced the side window – which looked out on the neighbor’s peeling stucco wall, complete w/ nail scars from old hurricane shutters. I hated that she had to look at that every day – Mom jokingly asked if maybe we could paint the neighbors wall. Determined to change her view – I went out to alter the situation. Tried hanging a planter- too heavy. Tried moving potted plants in front – too short. I even thought seriously -for about five minutes – about painting the neighbors wall. (I’m stubborn that way.)
Walking back into the house – my heart was so sad. ‘Why, God, why?”
“ Why does my mom have to suffer from this disease?, Why does she have to be bedbound at 70 years old, struggling to breathe? Why has she gone from capable and creative and energetic and engaged to plucking at the covers on her bed in nervous frustration? Why does she now have to look at ‘ugly‘all day?”
As I walked back into the house, I noticed a small stained glass hanging on the entryway glass. And some crocheted snowflakes on the kitchen window, attached with a small suction cups. I grabbed them both and then walked through the living room, picking up a cute figurine, a stained glass bible verse plaque and a small flower arrangement. I arranged it all in – and on- my mom’s window and suddenly in front of the ugly, there was a kaleidoscope of color.
‘That’s better’, she sighed in relief, ‘Now I have something pretty to look at.’
I couldn’t do a thing about my mom’s view. She remained bedridden. The neighbor’s wall remained ugly and peeling. But while we couldn’t change her view, we could change what she chose to look at.
My sweet mom couldn’t do a thing about her diagnosis…neither could I. But, maybe, just maybe we could ask God to give us His perspective and choose to find something lovely to look at. Like the amazing hospice nurses who showed up daily with smiles and enthusiasm. The church ladies who brought meals. The fact that there was no pain. And the time we had been able to spend reminiscing and laughing about family stories.
There is always something to be thankful for…I guess it all depends on your ‘point of view.’