| It's A Family Tradition Part II written by Bob McDonald |
Earlier, I mentioned that my mother lived to give
and Christmas was her favorite time of the year. In
1992, Mama had a reoccurrence of stomach cancer.
Doctor Hope of Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte,
North Carolina thought Mama had beaten cancer
after he had removed two-thirds of her stomach
almost three years earlier. The results of extensive
blood work every three months reflected no cancer
present and greatly encouraged my family and
Doctor Hope that Mama had indeed beaten cancer.
Suddenly and without warning, Mama began
experiencing sharp stomach pain and severe
digestion problems. With a quick trip to Charlotte,
Doctor Hope revealed cancer was again attacking my
mama at an alarming and devastating speed. Doctor
Hope scheduled surgery as immediately as hospital-
operating schedules would allow.
The times I spent alone with Mama prior to
surgery in her hospital room are the most treasured
memories I have of my mother. Mama told me how
proud she was of me. Mama told me how proud she
was of my wife Sally. Since Sally’s mother had
passed away at such an early age in our newlywed
years, Mama loved Sally like a daughter and Sally
loved Mama like a mother. Sally’s character truly
reflected the character of my mom. I had indeed
married a woman just like dear ole Mom. Mama told
me how proud she was of my two daughters, Natalie
and Meredith, and the third daughter (Robin), due
anytime but yet to be born. Mama told me how
proud she was of how I had lived my life in my walk
with God. Mama and I had many wonderful
discussions about growing up in Rockingham and
McDonald Community. Some of those discussions
are fuzzy and some have faded away. Yet, one
conversation remains crystal clear today as though
she has just hung up the telephone. Not many days
pass that I do not recall that particular conversation
and respond with a smile of comfort on my face.
From her hospital room, Mama told me, “Bob, God
has been so good to me. No one lives forever on this
Earth. Sooner or later, we all will die. I could have
been instantly killed in a head-on automobile crash
on my way to work at R.W. Goodman’s. Instead,
God in his merciful grace has given me the time and
opportunity to tell your daddy and you boys every
thing I would want to say. I am so fortunate.
Nothing has been left unsaid. God is good!”
Likewise, I will never forget the words of Doctor
Hope as he addressed Daddy, my brothers, and me in
the waiting room of Presbyterian Hospital within
minutes of exiting the surgery. “Cecil, boys, cancer
has spread so rapidly that I cannot remove it all.
The best I can do is to sew Lucille back up, prescribe
a heavy painkiller to make her as comfortable as
feasibly possible, and send her back home,” Doctor
Hope reported with tears in his eyes. “Everyone had
rather die at home. I am sorry. I have done all I can
do. With conviction and confidence in his reassuring
words, Doctor Hope said, “God is preparing for
Lucille to come home.” Thank God for Christian
doctors!
Daddy took Mama home to Rockingham and put
a hospital bed in our living room. Mama had always
welcomed and entertained visitors in the living room
of our home. It was only appropriate and natural
that that she greeted the many visitors who filed into
our home within the walls of our living room even
though she was too sick to carry on conversation.
Approximately three weeks later, God opened the
Pearly Gates and Mama walked the streets of gold
to her mansion Jesus Christ had prepared for her,
cancer-free.
Although the family rejoiced over the fact that
Mama no longer suffered, we were also on the other
end of human emotions and feelings. The pain
seemed unbearable. I started every morning out by
standing in my shower and crying. Once the first
drops of water hit my face, the tears began to flow.
When I cut the water and tears off, I was able to
step out of the shower and face the sympathizing
public with a stoic face even though I was sobbing
hysterically inside. How was I going to be able to
make it without my mama and her words of
encouragement? My two girls had just lost their last
grandma. They were too young to be without a
grandma. To make matters worse, God took my
mama sixteen days before Robin, my third and
youngest daughter, was born. What was God
thinking? Natalie was ten years old and Meredith
had just turned three. Mama loved dressing my girls
up in show-window fashion. Now cancer had swiped
her excitement of showcasing a new wardrobe for
Robin. For the first time in my life, the living room I
grew up in had no live Christmas tree. For the first
time in my life, the scent of cedar in the home I grew
up in was absent. For the first time in my life, the
spirit of Christmas in my childhood home was not
present. For the first time in my life, Mama was not
in our living room. The sting of death had a
paralyzing and numbing effect on the McDonald
Family.
This Christmas in the McDonald Family was
quite a contrast to the first Christmas in Bethlehem
when angels delivered “good tidings of great joy.”
Christmas and life in general without Mama was
totally void of joy. We went through the motions of
eating our first Christmas Eve dinner without Mama
and exchanging gifts after the meal as we always
had. After all, it was a family tradition. Yet, this
Christmas Eve dinner was missing the best biscuits
ever made and an apple cobbler with a coconut and
pecan crust that Betty Crocker could not duplicate.
Nobody could cook like Mama!
and Christmas was her favorite time of the year. In
1992, Mama had a reoccurrence of stomach cancer.
Doctor Hope of Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte,
North Carolina thought Mama had beaten cancer
after he had removed two-thirds of her stomach
almost three years earlier. The results of extensive
blood work every three months reflected no cancer
present and greatly encouraged my family and
Doctor Hope that Mama had indeed beaten cancer.
Suddenly and without warning, Mama began
experiencing sharp stomach pain and severe
digestion problems. With a quick trip to Charlotte,
Doctor Hope revealed cancer was again attacking my
mama at an alarming and devastating speed. Doctor
Hope scheduled surgery as immediately as hospital-
operating schedules would allow.
The times I spent alone with Mama prior to
surgery in her hospital room are the most treasured
memories I have of my mother. Mama told me how
proud she was of me. Mama told me how proud she
was of my wife Sally. Since Sally’s mother had
passed away at such an early age in our newlywed
years, Mama loved Sally like a daughter and Sally
loved Mama like a mother. Sally’s character truly
reflected the character of my mom. I had indeed
married a woman just like dear ole Mom. Mama told
me how proud she was of my two daughters, Natalie
and Meredith, and the third daughter (Robin), due
anytime but yet to be born. Mama told me how
proud she was of how I had lived my life in my walk
with God. Mama and I had many wonderful
discussions about growing up in Rockingham and
McDonald Community. Some of those discussions
are fuzzy and some have faded away. Yet, one
conversation remains crystal clear today as though
she has just hung up the telephone. Not many days
pass that I do not recall that particular conversation
and respond with a smile of comfort on my face.
From her hospital room, Mama told me, “Bob, God
has been so good to me. No one lives forever on this
Earth. Sooner or later, we all will die. I could have
been instantly killed in a head-on automobile crash
on my way to work at R.W. Goodman’s. Instead,
God in his merciful grace has given me the time and
opportunity to tell your daddy and you boys every
thing I would want to say. I am so fortunate.
Nothing has been left unsaid. God is good!”
Likewise, I will never forget the words of Doctor
Hope as he addressed Daddy, my brothers, and me in
the waiting room of Presbyterian Hospital within
minutes of exiting the surgery. “Cecil, boys, cancer
has spread so rapidly that I cannot remove it all.
The best I can do is to sew Lucille back up, prescribe
a heavy painkiller to make her as comfortable as
feasibly possible, and send her back home,” Doctor
Hope reported with tears in his eyes. “Everyone had
rather die at home. I am sorry. I have done all I can
do. With conviction and confidence in his reassuring
words, Doctor Hope said, “God is preparing for
Lucille to come home.” Thank God for Christian
doctors!
Daddy took Mama home to Rockingham and put
a hospital bed in our living room. Mama had always
welcomed and entertained visitors in the living room
of our home. It was only appropriate and natural
that that she greeted the many visitors who filed into
our home within the walls of our living room even
though she was too sick to carry on conversation.
Approximately three weeks later, God opened the
Pearly Gates and Mama walked the streets of gold
to her mansion Jesus Christ had prepared for her,
cancer-free.
Although the family rejoiced over the fact that
Mama no longer suffered, we were also on the other
end of human emotions and feelings. The pain
seemed unbearable. I started every morning out by
standing in my shower and crying. Once the first
drops of water hit my face, the tears began to flow.
When I cut the water and tears off, I was able to
step out of the shower and face the sympathizing
public with a stoic face even though I was sobbing
hysterically inside. How was I going to be able to
make it without my mama and her words of
encouragement? My two girls had just lost their last
grandma. They were too young to be without a
grandma. To make matters worse, God took my
mama sixteen days before Robin, my third and
youngest daughter, was born. What was God
thinking? Natalie was ten years old and Meredith
had just turned three. Mama loved dressing my girls
up in show-window fashion. Now cancer had swiped
her excitement of showcasing a new wardrobe for
Robin. For the first time in my life, the living room I
grew up in had no live Christmas tree. For the first
time in my life, the scent of cedar in the home I grew
up in was absent. For the first time in my life, the
spirit of Christmas in my childhood home was not
present. For the first time in my life, Mama was not
in our living room. The sting of death had a
paralyzing and numbing effect on the McDonald
Family.
This Christmas in the McDonald Family was
quite a contrast to the first Christmas in Bethlehem
when angels delivered “good tidings of great joy.”
Christmas and life in general without Mama was
totally void of joy. We went through the motions of
eating our first Christmas Eve dinner without Mama
and exchanging gifts after the meal as we always
had. After all, it was a family tradition. Yet, this
Christmas Eve dinner was missing the best biscuits
ever made and an apple cobbler with a coconut and
pecan crust that Betty Crocker could not duplicate.
Nobody could cook like Mama!
| It's A Family Tradition - Part 3 |
|
|