I’ll never forget the day I was in someone’s home and a knock came at the door. The man of the house answered it and discovered a police officer. He identified himself and asked the whereabouts of the man’s son. He wanted to question him. The dad hadn’t seen or heard from him in months. So he said the following to the officer, ‘What do the kids say when they have their 15 seconds of fame on a news camera?’ The officer looked at him in silence and then the dad waved his hand and said, ‘Hi, Mom! Go ask his mother.’ And then he closed the door.
I have thought about that a lot over the years and when I see the camera scan the crowd, that’s exactly what I see and hear. No one ever says, ‘Hi, Dad!’ Curious. Even lean and mean marines and large, powerful football players say the same thing. ‘Hi, Mom!’ Why is that? Not as a dad I feel slighted, but my guess is that if I had the opportunity now, my first reaction would be, ‘Hi, Mom!’ But then I remember she’s been in heaven for twenty-seven years. She placed her faith in Jesus Christ as her Savior and according to the Bible ‘to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord’.
I know one day I will see her in eternity, but oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a five minute conversation with her now. I’d let her know that Debbie and I are doing well (she loved Debbie best!) and how the boys have grown up. It would make her so proud for the decisions they have made. And then…the grandkids. She would be so happy to hear about them – one boy and eight girls! She would have such a ball with them. She loved her grandkids – she would love the great ones, too!
In her final years on earth, we didn’t make it home too often – 600 miles away, older car, busy lives, work, school, on and on. But we did speak on the phone from time to time. Those were the days before ‘Verizon to Verizon’ and we had to be careful of every minute we spoke, because ‘clickity click’, Ma Bell was charging us. The last two months of her life the phone calls stopped for she was on a ventilator. Then it was just a few words from Dad from time to time, when he could spare to be away from her. And finally…the last call came from my Uncle Ken, ‘Paul, I’m sorry to tell you your mother passed away this morning.’
At that moment in your life, every argument you ever had with mom is trite and meaningless. Every excuse you had for why you didn’t call or why you didn’t make the effort to go home is weak. She’s gone and all the ‘might-have-beens’ and ‘could-have-beens’ will not bring her back. My dear reader, set aside your pride, your hurts, your reasons…and just call her to say ‘Hi, Mom! I love you.’
Think about it. No, just do it!