That Our Faith May Be Tested

But I can’t disappoint Mama and Mother Dear

After returning to my Atlanta home in June 1980 I felt a void in my life because of the death of my maternal grandmother on May 6th. With tears in my eyes I remembered her as both a disciplinarian and an altruist. I thanked God for the comfortable livelihood she had amassed, and her legacy of intellect and multi-talents. I was also saddened by the unexpected death of my father in February 1980. . Perhaps a source of my anxiety was due to the continuing bi-weekly commute from Montgomery, Alabama to teach at Alabama State University. The commute was approximately 160 miles one way. And although my mother had retired only a year earlier and was the constant caregiver to my grandmother, my sisters and I regularly relieved her in caring for our grandmother. And of course I was tired from teaching four classes and working on my dissertation.

And in case I had not mentioned, I was married with a four year old son who traveled with me. Therefore, I had a right to be anxious, but was glad was glad when the summer of 1980 came and I could take my son to vacation Bible School. I also sought Biblical guidance for what I was experiencing. One of our discussions in the adult class that I attended focused on faith healing. Many of the women recounted examples of God’s intervention. Why then hadn’t God answered my prayers to heal my grandmother? In A motherly way these ladies explained that I had pleased God in displaying my faith but that His will must be done.

On another occasion our discussion focused on God’s revelations. In fact, in the aftermath of family members’ deaths, much of what I was now experiencing was the plaguing memory of a two year old dream. I was in Troy, Alabama, my hometown. I was approaching a neighbor’s house. What am I doing here ? Then I saw my son at the neighbor’s door. “Mother, please let me get a piece of cake.” “Okay, but you must come home with me.” In a burst of energy, he returned and fell into a mud puddle that I had not seen before. Grabbing his arms, I fought frantically to pull him from the mud. But the more I pulled, screamed and perspired, the more he sank. Such physical exertion caused me to awaken abruptly.

I immediately called my mother and asked her about the dream. “It’s a sign of death, Byrdie.” Not wishing to worry her about my grandmother, I quickly tried to nullify its impact. “Don’t worry, Mother Dear, it’s not Mama.” I frantically looked around the Bible classroom for comfort. Sensing my desperation, one of the ladies suggested that the dream might mean that I was helping someone.

In late July, I was simply delighted that my mother was visiting us in Atlanta. As we discussed possible decorating ideas I thought how blessed I was to have a mother who was known as ‘Sweeetie” because of her pleasant, considerate disposition. I also thought how well she looked for her 65 years of age and what insightfulness she exhibited.

In late August I prepared to return to Montgomery because I still had been unsuccessful in locating a local job although I was willing to make compromises in my career and salary. Suddenly the telephone It was Darnell, my sister. She was crying and screaming “Mother Dear has had a stroke. She is dragging her right side. Byrdie, come quickly. I’m taking her to the hospital in Dothan.” “Can I speak to Mother Dear” “Byrdie, I’m fine. Don’t rush. Darnell, stop crying. I’ve made my peace with God, and I am prepared….”

It seemed forever until my husband got home from work. As we drove down the winding farm roads I prayed, please Lord, don’t let that dream be about my mother. Arriving sat the hospital about 1 a.m., I was wobbly kneed as I opened the door to Room 467 to find tubes attached to my mother’s nose as they had been attached to my grandmother’s.

My mother assured us that she was not in pain as we kept our vigil The next morning the doctor assured me of my mother’s recovery. He said that she might be paralyzed on the right side. Remembering God’s promise, Ask and it shall be given, I turned from the doctor and confidently smiled. Although I prayed constantly, I desired to pry with my mother. Afterwards, she moved her right leg. Surely this was a confirmation from God that she would be restored. My confidence was reaffirmed as Mother Dear went to therapy on Labor Day.

In the midst of perceived s recovery, my mother would occasionally ask, why Lord, why I, too had asked the same question and was just as perplexed. And it was very difficult mustering up enough energy to entertain four year olds after hours at the hospital, God strengthened us so that our mother was never left unattended. This care and concern was also given to Mother Dear by my Grandmother’s adopted daughter, Debbie Coskrey.

On Wednesday evening after Labor Day, the wind blew hard, the sky turned dark and it rained as Darnell prepared to go to the hospital. I had just finished bathing the children when the phone rang. It was Darnell, “Byrdie – Mother Dear is having seizures. Go get the neighbor across the street and come quickly.” I felt as I had in my journey to Dothan; that is I could physically outrun the car.

As I exited the elevator, I herd the call Code 4, Room 467. Not realizing what Code 4 meant, all I could utter was, “Oh God! Please!” After an hour of total frustration the urgency to pray was eased. An indescribable Hurt too its place as the dejected doctor announced, “we’re sorry, but we lost Mrs. Larkin.”

How could he lose someone that he was so sure he could help! In my disbelief I was convinced that my mother was dead because of medical negligence or maybe she had worked too hard or maybe she and I had rubbed her leg too hard and long the night before. After many nights of not sleeping, and many days of existing just enough to teach my classes and care for my son, I cried to God to help me to accept my mother’s death as an act of Love.

And God is doing just that! Although I have been unable to ‘totally’ accept my mother’s death, God has revealed his handiwork in simply everyday experiences which have caused me to realize that His will cannot be subjected to logic or even commonsense explanations.

The best testimony to be given to my family’s legacy of painstaking, benevolence and virtuousness is to live a comparable life, fertilizing within my child these same qualities. Such goals take a lifetime and unyielding faith in God, and in accomplishing these goals, I will not have disappointed my father, mother and grandmother for I will be in their midst.