“Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, rather by the number of hilarious and “make you feel good” visits you take to the nursing home” ~Sara Littlejohn

I am a firm believer in the power of a well placed expletive.

Pretty sure that trickled down from my Mama.

Growing up I could count on ONE hand the number of times my mom used an expletive. It was never out of anger, frustration, or directed at another human being. It was ALWAYS very well placed and very purposeful.

We talked about one such incident in this post.

My mom never tried being anyone except herself, which in her line of business (pastor’s wife) can be extremely challenging. She was not concerned with who the congregation, elders, presbytery, WIC committee, or other first wives from first family churches,  thought she should be. She was just her bold, straightforward, “don’t beat around the bush”, truth teller, self. I have met very few pastor’s wives that embody the rich security my mom found in simply being a child of God. I think this allowed her to minister in a real, deep, authentic place.

I’ll never forget the first time mom cursed in front of a small portion of my friends. I asked her what we were having for dinner and she replied, “shit on a shingle!” My friends about fell out of their chairs, and they never again looked at my mother the same (in a good way).

All of this to say, first thing this morning I loaded the kids up to go visit Mama-Mama. I just woke up and HAD to see her. Mainly, because I wanted to touch her, kiss her, and hold her hand for a bit. This was the second time I had taken the kids, and they were just thrilled to be with her after spending three long weeks of being forced NOT to see her.

Almost every resident lit up when we walked down the hallway to mom’s room. Sweet faces, wearing blessings of a life time in their wrinkles, waved and smiled at my little clan. When we first approached mom’s room her door was closed, after a little *knock, knock* the CNA opened the door and out wheeled mama ready for the day. As the “hi grammy, hi mama, hi grammy, hi grammy, hi grammy” were being said, mom hollered out in a very loud voice, “OH SHIT!” Not the “I am so mad you are here,” or the “get out of my face” or the ” I forgot something”, but rather the “OH SHIT! I am so, so, so glad to see you!” Katie and I giggled out loud, the other three went about their business offering hugs and kisses having no reason to know that word is “negative”.

On the heels of her exclamation she shouted in a broken way, “aren’t…these… the most b-b-b-beau-TI-FUL grand….grand….grand cats you’ve ever seen?”

And there in that moment, we soaked up the small, but rather large pronouncement, that Grammy knew (if even for a split second) that her grand-cats had arrived, and it caused her to feel something real, deep, and authentic. So real in fact that Valerie Sue Fry Hall spoke up from the depths of her very familiar being and shouted, “OH SHIT!”

If that is not a moment to measure your life by, I might as well throw in the towel and head for glory.

I don’t tell you this story to defame my mother or dishonor the amazing, spiritual legacy she leaves behind. I tell you this because these past few weeks have been far from easy and normal. We will probably measure the rest of our days around these events. More than anything I am so glad that even the “shitty” moments are bringing us unexplainable joy!


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