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| photo by Jean Ann Williams~Joshua's LeahNora curled between the firewood |
“If your law had
not been my delight, I would have perished in my affliction.”
—Psalm 119:92
New Year’s Day
came with a biting chill, and I turned up the heat.
My groggy mind
right then remembered what I had decided: I would still celebrate. In keeping
with Joshua’s and my tradition: hard salami slices and cheese with fancy
crackers and olives—his very favorite—and sparkling apple cider. I didn’t need
to buy two bottles. One would do for my husband and me.
I prayed
throughout the day, as was my habit now. Prayed more on the first year of
holidays. I cried. I sang. I talked about my son to God. “I miss him, Lord.
I’ll never stop missing him. He wasn’t just my son but also my friend.”
Around eight
o’clock, I set up the snacks and watched a movie with my husband. We snuggled
next to the fire and tried to forget. Once more, again, now we were two.
Dear God, another
celebration behind us. We don’t understand why Joshua is gone. In Jesus’s holy
name. Amen.
A Mother’s
Memories
“Mom.”
Twenty-one-year-old Joshua called me into his room. “Look what I found.”
He had just
returned from a night at a beachfront motel. Having reserved the motel months
in advance at a lower cost, he rented it out at a higher price for others to
celebrate the 2000New Year. The three college girls that Joshua had rented it
to had called early evening on New Year’s Eve. They’d had a change of plans and
would not need the room. Joshua decided to stay the night in his
already-paid-for room and watch the fireworks on the beach.
Now, I entered
his bedroom. “What did you find?”
He reached into
his duffle and with a grin said, “It’s fate,” and pulled out a gray-and-white
cat.
I gasped. “You
can’t bring that cat in here. You know I’m allergic.”
He gave me a soft
smile and cradled the young cat to his chest. “Oh, I know, but she’ll be an
outside cat. I won’t even have to buy her food, because she’ll be a mouser.”
His brows did a dance to entice me with his next words. “Don’t you want her to
kill the mice?”
I cocked my head
to one side. “She is pretty, but now take her outside.”
His face fell. “I
can’t do that. She’s got to get use to me or she’ll run away.”
My back
stiffened. “She can’t stay in the house, Josh.”
His hand slid
down the cat’s back in a back-and-forth rub. “She’ll stay in my room. Just for
a few days.”
I threw up my
hands and walked away. Over my shoulder I said, “Keep your door shut.”
Joshua raised his
voice, “You won’t regret it, Mom. She’ll get rid of all the mice for you.”
It took Joshua
two years to name the cat. He said, “It has to be a really special name.”
Finally he came
up with LiahNora. His insistence that the cat have a special name, and that
Joshua spelled it so odd, had always bothered me. Six years after Joshua got
LiahNora, it hit me. With Joshua so proud of his Irish heritage—I’d figured it
out. He named the cat LiahNora in code for Hail Aron, which meant hail Ireland.
Thank You,
Father, for the comfort of LiahNora, who lived eight more years after Joshua
died. In Jesus’s holy name. Amen.
Reader Journal
~Your Mother Memories~
~Your Prayer of Praise~
~A Scripture of Encouragement~
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