Standing In Her Spot

By: Brenda Wilkerson

This morning I found myself standing in my mom’s tiny cluttered kitchen, fixing breakfast for my dad, and singing old gospel music loud and off key. And it brought a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. My heart broke a little with nostalgia, appreciation, and sadness.

See, I was standing there fixing breakfast for my dad because Mom wasn’t here to do it. We lost her nearly two years ago. Standing there, looking out the window, I was reminded of the many, many times I heard her belting out hymns from that small space downstairs as I laid in my bed upstairs. And I had a new appreciation. I understood that she was both praising the Lord and mustering the strength to get through the day. She was calling on the Lord.

Mom was a natural caregiver. She was a nurturer and a doer. All things were within her job description, and her responsibilities were great. She was the one people counted on, the one that came through, the one that figured it out and made a way for those around her. That place in the kitchen was where she readied and steadied herself for the day ahead. It’s where she called upon the Lord to give her the strength and grace to make it through the assignments of the day.

Oh, how my heart burst. I saw her in a new light, with a new appreciation. I heard the familiar echoes, and they sounded brand new. Because now that she’s gone, I was standing in her spot, fixing breakfast for my dad, trying to gather my strength to care for him another day. I was the one singing songs of praise to reinforce me, to let the Lord know I was trusting in and calling on Him to get me through the day.

It’s a privilege to care for someone when they are vulnerable. And it is a great weight. My mom understood that better than anyone, as she cared for everyone in her life. Her heart was big and her concern covered many.

This morning I saw her with new eyes, and I heard her song with new ears. I heard those off key notes, and I realized that our voices where singing them together. There, in the place that she had stood a million times, she was with me, encouraging me to sing out to declare my love and my need. She was, as she had so often, encouraging me and supporting me, giving me strength, and telling me she saw me.

I was standing in her spot, but I will never be able to fill her shoes.

By: Brenda Wilkerson