Been fighting a nasty cold for a week now.  I have eaten so much chicken soup that I think I'm going to grow webbed feet and a beak!  Amazing how something that can only be seen under a microscope can cause you so much misery, or even take a life.  I was remembering, today, how I got a very bad case of the flu when I was six or seven years old. My fever went so high that I began to hallucinate. Saw creepy, crawly things going up and down my bedroom wall.  But what I remember most was Mom's loving, concerned face hovering above me.  I can still hear her sweet voice telling me, "It's going to be OK, baby. Mama's here." And she would sponge me off with cool water and brush my hair back from my feverish brow with gentle hands. Of course, I went to the doctor and got the usual meds and lived to tell about the ordeal. But I think that Mom's loving care helped me heal faster. Mom was such a compassionate woman. If anyone was sick and asked for her help, she never hesitated. She often spent weeks, sitting day and night, with people at the hospital. Not very long before she passed away, ( I still have trouble saying she DIED ) I managed to get food poisoning one cold December night. Such was my wretching agony, that I spent the night lying on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.  When dawn came, I literally crawled to the couch and passed out from exhaustion. Apparently, my husband told my Mom I was sick and when I awoke much later in the afternoon, there sat my elderly mother in the chair across from me. "Mama's here, baby," she said. I smiled at her weakly and rolled back over. I didn't let her see the tears that slid down my cheeks. I felt comforted, but also sad. By this time, Mom was almost 78 years old and had to walk with a cane. And yet, here she was on that cold December morn. She had bundled up and caught a ride to my house, determined to be there for me, her "baby". I knew in my heart that this was probably the last time this would happen. And it was. Springtime was cruel to us, and on a deceptively beautiful blue sky day, I lost her. On a Monday. Like today. I know that we will be reunited in that world that God has promised, a world without sickness, pain, or even DEATH--Revelation 21:3,4. In the meantime, as I lay here on my couch nursing this rotten cold alone, I would give anything to roll over and see her sitting in that chair again, hear her sweet voice. I remember the last words I said to her: " It's going to be OK, Mama. I'm here..."