My Mother's Fire

My mother showed fire from a young age. As one of 14 children, life was never easy. They didn't have much, but they managed with hand-me-downs and the generosity of strangers.

Things got a little easier when she met my father. His family was middle class, so there was more to go around. Not enough for the two of them to complete college, though, so she dropped out to support my father as he finished college and went on to professional school.

She was a pillar of strength and support as my father relocated to start his own practice. They had always wanted children, but they waited 8 years before she became pregnant so they could make sure they were financially stable. Neither of them wanted their children to struggle the way they had.

Although she chose to forego college for the good of her family, my mother was a quick study. She took on the bookkeeping for my father's business. The fire of her intellect shone brightly as she learned how to use the tools of her new trade.

She worked to lift up other members of her family as the business grew and thrived. She hired siblings, nephews, and nieces in support roles for the practice, hoping they could make better lives for themselves as well. Even when they disappointed her, she never gave up on making things better for her family.

She became the core of her family. She never forgot a birthday or anniversary, which was an increasingly impressive feat as the number of nieces, nephews, and great- nieces and -nephews grew. She was always key to planning family reunions and holiday gatherings. The fire of family burned in her heart, and everyone around her could see it.

One of her brightest flames was her faith. She worked with the Gideons and put together innumerable Christmas boxes for children every winter. She would spend the entire year shopping for those boxes, picking up items wholesale at the local salvage store so she'd have enough to stuff the boxes to nearly bursting. She wanted those children to have the best holiday possible. I think she saw herself in them.

Somehow, she managed to balance out a full-time job, her charity work, and raising 4 children. We always knew she was there for us, and we never felt like we came in second. She always seemed to have endless energy, staying up late into the night working on her projects.

The first time she almost died, I was in my final year of professional school. Fortunately, I had completed my class requirements for the month, so I was able to travel back home to take my turns spending the night next to her bed in the hospital. It was hard to see my vibrant, sharp mother affected by delirium. It took them weeks to determine she was experiencing a rare side effect from her medication, a side effect that left her with permanent scarring on her lungs. Still, her fire saw her through, and she not only walked out of the hospital but improved enough that she no longer needed continuous oxygen, much to the shock of her doctors.

It was harder for her after that, though. The scarring meant she was more susceptible to lung infections. She had some brief bouts with pneumonia and wound up in the hospital a few times.

Eventually, though, the illness caught up with her. She caught a particularly bad case of pneumonia and wound up in the ICU for 4 weeks straight on a ventilator with a tracheostomy. The doctors tried to be realistic with us, but they didn't know my mother and her fiery stubbornness. Once again, she walked out of the hospital, although this time, she continued to need oxygen periodically.

Yet again, her fire saw her through. She improved enough to have a hip replacement the following fall and to travel with my brother to look for a home for him to rent in the Northwest. That last trip seemed to push it too far. She wound up in the hospital on a ventilator again, and this time, it was too much for her. She died surrounded by her family on a cold January morning.

Even in death, her fire drew others to her. There was a line out the back of the church for the entire visitation period, and there wasn't an empty seat in the sanctuary for her funeral. Her fire drew everyone else to her, and they felt their own flames kindled in response. Even now, over a decade later, I can't think of my mother without thinking of her fire, her passion for life, and her passion for serving others. I can only hope she'd be proud of the woman I've become.