A grown child's love

Last night I received the best post-Christmas gift I've ever gotten. My daughter, already on the short-list of my favorite people in the world because, well, she's my daughter AND she's giving me a ticket to the Saints playoff game Sunday, called to say she was worried about me. She doesn't want me to park where we always park when Mary and I go because I would be walking in a "bad" area, because I'm sick (which I'm not, and because it will be cold (which forecasts say is not true). She suggests taking a cab from my other daughter's house on the West Bank of New Orleans.

For my readers who don't know what any of that means, it means my daughter cares about me. This doesn't come as a shock, but it comes as confirmation.

Ironically, there isn't much of this language in the Bible, much of his daughter or son caring for their fathers or mothers. Even Jesus at times signals having a greater need than spending time with parents or siblings.

But I thought of this scene from scripture. Jesus is near death (which I'm not), hanging from the cross (which I'm definitely not) and his mother has somehow been allowed to come near the cross. The son says to the mother, ²⁵ Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman,^[b] here is your son,” ²⁷ and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home."

It was ample evidence that the child was most concerned with the parent. He had done all he came to do, and he understood how much his mother had suffered because of it. So he asked a dear friend to take care of his mother.

There comes a moment in every parent's life when they understand they're children are grown and have turned into caring, wonderful persons. Perhaps mine has come this past year in two hospital visits when I saw my "children" so lovingly worried about me. I do not want to be hospitalized or sick or perhaps beaten in a dark corner of Earhart Drive in New Orleans to have that love shown, but it is wonderfully comforting to see that love in action.

You, or I guess I should say I, always wonder how well you've done with raising your children. You wonder did your quirks, your problems, your mistakes erase the natural bond between parent and child. Seldom does that happen, but still you (or I guess I should say I) wonder. It is great to see that it hasn't. I love Shanna, Carrie and Jason deeply. I pray they love me back. I pray that I would be as Jesus and ask they would take care of our dear matriarch, my wife Mary, but I already know that to be true.

Maybe Shanna would even given Mary a ticket to some future game if I'm gone (but not beforehand).