Breakfast with Mom

Every Thursday morning for the past 30 years I have had breakfast with Mom one day a week. We have gone to the same restaurant for most of those 30 years. It is like a family. The waitress and the other customers know me by name. They have shared in the slow decline of my mom over the years especially the last ten.

Our times at the table now do not consist of real conversation. Actually my mom cannot follow a conversation anymore. She does like to talk. So she makes up stories and tells them to me. They are usually about me. For instance, she had a dream we were running together on the farm in Tennessee or my dad was defending me against neighbors who were speaking back about me. This last week she said when I was three years old I said, "I just got the call and I am going to be a truck driver." :) That's funny!

Mom loves to tell a joke. She forgets a lot of things but not this one particular joke. She will tell anyone who is in her path. I try to make sure we go straight from our booth to pay but I am not always successful. One morning, Mom pushed me ahead of her so that she could interrupt a man's breakfast to tell him her joke. He did not look very happy about it. I was not close enough to thank him for his patience so I decided to ask the waitress to let him know of mom's condition. I remember the waitress saying to me, "Don't worry about that! Your mom is fine. You do not need to make excuses for her."

What a wonderful thing to hear from this woman who has waited on us for many years now! She was kind and loving concerning my mother. I have to remember that kind and loving part as I sometimes get a little embarrassed and impatient. She is still my mother after all. I need to treat her as such.

The people we meet each day are taking account of us. They can be the cashiers, the driver of the car in front of us, the person we pass walking on the street or a waitress. What kind of attitude do they see from us? Is it reflective of Jesus? It better be if you are a follower of Christ. That is who we are called to reflect.

So do these people I meet every day know who I am, a Follower of Christ? More importantly, does my mother know who I am? (Even if she can't quite process it)