The Jacket

My sister, Lise,  and Mom

What to wear?  A chilly day with a strong breeze off the water; a windbreaker would be needed.  With chagrin, I realized that I didn’t really own one.  What to do?  I spotted the jacket, hanging in a corner of the closet, hidden by winter coats and, well, just plain old clothes draping off the hangars.  No wonder I had not seen it lately.

It is a reversible windbreaker.  Bright pink on one side and light blue on the other.  Perfect.  I could wear blue today and pink tomorrow.  But, I had mixed feelings as I put it on.  It was Mom’s go-to jacket for when she worked out in the yard.  If there was one thing my Mom both loved and hated about Springtime, it was those troublesome dandelions.  She considered them as Public Enemy Number One.  Nothing delighted her more than to don her blue-pink jacket, shove her hands into a pair of old garden gloves and whip out a dull knife which she manipulated with great agility as she hauled out those poor defenseless yellow flowers, (read: weeds).  Mind you, chopping off their heads was never her agenda.  Oh no, she would root around for the root and haul each one out with a great deal of satisfaction.  Neither rain nor wind would stop her, even though she absolutely hated the wind. Hence, she had found the perfect jacket- colourful and with a hood.

My mind was whirling as I put on this memorable piece of clothing.  Out for my 5-kilometre walk, I prayed about my Mom; thanking God for such a trooper, such a hard worker, such a sweet woman.  And I prayed for Mom; praying that she would carry sweeter memories than the ones Dementia seems to have stolen.  She has taught me so much.  

For some reason, I went all the way back to my childhood.  In my first 10 years at school, I was subjected to a lot of ridicule and bullying.  Earlier on, I would arrive home in tears.  While Mom would comfort me and hear out my story, she would always finish with these words: “Forgive them, Francine.  They are children who don’t really understand what they are doing.  You are better than their words.”

Walking down the road, I could barely see where I was going as tears filled my eyes.  Mom was right.  It’s not that she agreed with bullying, nor was she afraid to stand up for someone, but she wanted me to understand that there would be more important battles to fight in years to come.

The 5 kilometres went by quickly; forty-five minutes at 9 minutes per kilometre.  The wind was indeed brisk and cold, but my heart was warmed.  And the blue-pink jacket kept me warm, as warm as my Mom’s smile and encouraging words.  I had forgiven those children, so long ago. 

At the age of twenty-eight, I came to know Christ as my Lord and Saviour, the One who has forgiven me.  Blaming my childhood hurts, one would think, could have absolved me from at least some of my sins- the ones that were a reaction to childhood difficulties.  But, I will stand before God on my own.  And I understood that I needed forgiveness as well.  I read Jesus’ words from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:41).  To whom was Jesus referring?  To the soldiers, the religious leaders, all the people who cried out for His execution?  He most certainly was quoting from Isaiah 53:12: “He made intercession for the transgressors.”   Perhaps He was referring to me.   While His prayer may have been for all of the above-named groups of people, it shows His overwhelming compassion, even as He was dying, and His extended mercy for all who will admit both their ignorance and their great need for a Saviour.  He extended that mercy to me, for which I am eternally grateful.

I intend to wear this special windbreaker on my next visit with Mom, and I can’t wait to tell her this story; to remind her of her past and to encourage her about the Hope in Christ that carries us into the future.