Mom's Tuesday

I had a positively lovely afternoon with my mother yesterday. We met at Freddy's, where she bought me cupcake accessories and storage bins for my upcoming birthday (you know you are a real dork when that is what you ask for for your birthday). Plus she treated Blaine to some new sandals and swimwear. We couldn't find the right size of gobbles, though. (goggles.) I promised Blaine we'd take him to another store, because he is really concerned. "I need gobbles so I don't get water in my eyes!"

After dallying around Fred Meyer we met at Mom's favorite nursery. When I got out of the car she looked at all the pony packs of flowers on display and then at me. "Isn't it wonderful? All the possibilities!" She helped me pick out some lovely hot pink and white zinnias for my house, since I am always admiring hers. I added a dianthus to the mix and she grabbed a begonia for her backyard. After a little more browsing, a little bit of my whining that my house isn't shady enough for the hanging fuschia of my dreams, and watching Blaine fall out of the double stroller repeatedly, we packed it all up into our two Hondas, planning to meet up at the blue house.

Back at home my mum helped me dig all the holes, pour in better soil than our lousy clay, added plant food and water, placed the flowers in, and then gave them all a drink with her miracle grow. As the sun beat down on our necks and the soil covered our hands I smiled at memories of planting flowers with my mother each summer. She has two green, GREEN thumbs. She once raised a whole army of African violets from a single leaf. People bring her their sick orchids to revive. As we finished, I stood back to admire our work, so happy to bring new life to the blue house.

When we went inside to wash our hands Mom had me rub some sunscreen on the back of her neck. As I rubbed it in, I looked at her aging, freckled skin. I thought about all the summer mornings I stumbled out of bed at 10:00 to find my mother out in the garden picking green beans. She'd usually been out their working since 6. She has always worked hard out there to make everything beautiful and to grow and abundant crop of deliciousness to share with her family and neighbors. I wanted to be like that.

Blaine cried at Mom's departure, but I promised him we would meet her at the ranch later. As it would turn out, I would get a call on our way to the ranch, that Dad was rushing Mom to the Emergency Room. There was an accident with a horse, leaving Mom with an injured hand. Mother was OK. Her hand was not.

I haven't talked to Mom yet; I'm on my way over once my children wake up. I have the feeling she will be positive. And this is how I know:

A couple of months ago we were talking about physical ailments and life's trials. She told me something I am trying to always keep in the forefront of my mind. "Anne, I learned pretty early on not to ask 'Why me?' but to say, 'Why not me?'"

Continuation:

I'm at Mom's now. I was right. Super positive. As it turns out, as she was helping Dad walk the horses down the gravel hill, a deer jumped out of the trees, spooking the horses. The big one she was leading jumped, knocking Mom to the ground, where she continued to slide down the gravel. Her left hand was munched, and her pinky could not be saved. But, she tells me, "I have not shed a tear about this. I have so many friends with worse problems right now. And I feel so blessed. Just think of all that could have happened. The way I see it, this was the best appendage to lose. Plus I'm just a hunt-and-peck typist, I don't play the piano, and I lead the singing at church with my right hand. The only frustrating part is that I'll have this huge bandage on for weeks. How am I supposed to blow dry and curl my hair with one hand?!"

I love her.

"Stuff happens," she says.

I want to be like that.