You know when I was about 19 years old there was a terrible blizzard here in Western NY, the blizzard of '77.
I was bound and determined that I was going to go out that night. My Father forbade it. I wasn't listening though. I was in the bathroom putting the finishing touches on myself, and getting ready to go out into this blizzard, defying his order. I had the bathroom door locked, and my Father stood outside of it prediciting that I was not stepping a foot outside of the house. I was being protected by the door so I was jaw- jawing back: "oh, yeah. I'm 19, I can do what I want and neither you or anyone else is going to stop me!"
My Father is a stone cutter, his forearms were, oh let's say, very well developed. As my jaw-jawing grew more strident, he hit the door with this fist and the bolt lock on the inside flew off the door. He stood outside as I walked past him and walked up to my room. I didn't say word one until I got to the top of the stairs then I started up again: "yeah, you may have won this one, but if you think it's over...."
We laugh about it now. With my Mother and the look in her eye that says to my Dad, "she's just what you deserved, she's just like you."
Weak, small and frail: what happens to our parents? When does this occur? All of a sudden there they are, needing our full protection and nurturing.
I have a blizzard-and-Dad story too! I was 16 and we lived alone together in Goshen, VT. If you've never heard of it, don't feel alone; most Vermonters haven't heard of Goshen either: it is way up and out there, off Brandon Gap. So we needed to take a trip to town and it was starting to snow. Dad said, "You'd better change your clogs for some boots; we may be walking home later." Remember how back in the 80's all clogs had open backs? (: Of course I pooh-poohed him, knowing best. And of course we couldn't make it up the unplowed hill (even in 4-wheel drive) 2 hours later and I ended up walking in those clogs nearly a half a mile in snow up to my knees! We were both silent the whole way, lol.
OH, how we laugh about that now, and how I always thank my dad for training me so well. I don't head out on any trip now without at least bringing the right gear with me! A father's love is very practical.
May Our Jehovah-Rapha, the God Who Heals, bless your mom with health to endure this time of transition and grant her joy in her journey. Amen. I will keep praying for you and your folks as the Holy Spirit brings you to my remembrance. We are One Body and Christ Our Head so faithful and concerned for all that concerns us!