While our mom was hospitalized, she couldn’t stop worrying about the vegetable patch she had planted. My sister and I confidently assured her that we would take care of everything, and went down to our childhood home. After spending the entire day in the field, our arms and legs felt like lead, and our shoulders and backs ached from exhaustion. That night, as I tossed and turned, my eyes landed on a thick notebook.
“Oh my goodness . . . ”
It was a journal—meticulously kept by our mom. I remembered how, after selling her modest harvest, she would sit down each evening to write in her ledger. That notebook held two years’ worth of her quiet, challenging life in the countryside. Unaware that cancer had begun to grow in her body, she got by day to day, relying on medication and faith. Her entries often began with “God, thank You” and ended with “God, I’m so tired and weary.” And in between? They were entirely about her children.
“My youngest calls every day during his commute. What would I have done without him?”
“God, my son is going on a business trip abroad. Please keep him safe and healthy.”
“The third child brought his father some grilled anago—his favorite. He even helped out in the field. I just hope he’s not too worn out.”
“My second son-in-law sent over some work clothes for his father-in-law. He really should have kept them for himself.”
“My youngest son-in-law sent ribs and bone broth. Life must be tough for them too, yet they still think of us. I’m so thankful.”
“Is something wrong? ( ) hasn’t called in days.”
She even noted how many times a month I called her and recorded what we talked about. She remembered every detail of her five children’s lives. Her own health concerns came second to our well-being. Our smallest gestures gave her the strength to carry on each day. Though we’ve all moved on and live separate lives, she has never let go. We were always with her.
And I have another Mother—Heavenly Mother who has remembered me since before I was born, from the beginning in heaven. Her life too is wholly devoted to Her children. Even now, She fills Her heart with our every sigh, joy, and pain. Who can stop the love of Heavenly Mother, who listens for even the faintest breath of Her children? I earnestly pray that Her memories of us will be filled not with sorrow or worry, but with joy and happiness.