In the midst of sorrow, sometimes there are bursts of joy. Don't miss them! This glorious event came several months after my mother died on Mother's Day 1995:

On what would have been my mother's 89th birthday, four months and six days after she died, I had planned an exceptionally busy day–a presentation at 9:00 a.m. at Southwest Medical Center in Oklahoma City, a luncheon speech at Baptist Medical Center, and a reading at 5:30 p.m. I wondered briefly if my overscheduling the day had anything to do with the birthday.

After Les and I fought the pouring rain one last time and returned to the hotel, weary and cold, I felt let down. I’d been hoping against hope that our new grandchild, due next week, would arrive on Mom’s birthday.

I tried to call my son and wife several times, but the line was busy. It was already past 10:30 p.m. I checked my messages. No luck. Not even one saying that they had gone to the hospital. She had been in labor twenty-some hours with their first child. I knew it was too late. It was simply too late.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. My son says, “We did it. We have our little girl.”

On Mother’s birthday? A little girl on Mother’s birthday? Oh, joy of joy!

The circle of life continues.

(Adapted from The Last Violet: Mourning My Mother, copyright 2002 Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad)

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