happy mother’s day

winifred mae shane 1920–2010


My sister called quite somewhat unexpectedly one day from Chula Vista, CA and said, “You’d better get out here. This is going to happen pretty fast.” I headed out on the first available flight the next morning and arrived on the front step at 12:15 p.m. Mom was sleeping in the bed hospice had provided in the family room, so I leaned over, kissed her on the cheek and said softly, “It’s okay, Mom. Your favorite son is here. You can go see Jesus.” I went to the kitchen to get some coffee and chat with my sister for a minute. When I went back in to sit with Mom, she had done just that. I still believe this lovely lady was just waiting for me to get home to her so we could both say good-bye.