“How glorious the splendor of a human heart that trusts that it is loved.” ~Brennan Manning
I held my mother’s hand yesterday, while my brother said a prayer. It was early in the morning as we stood around her hospital bed.
“Dear God, please protect our mother while in surgery, guide those who are caring for her, and please heal our mother’s heart.”
When the prayer was finished, two nurses guided my mother’s bed through the door of her hospital room, rolling her toward the operation.
She was gone, for the moment, and I was left with thoughts of her generous, and glorious heart.
The heart that took me in as a child and loved me unconditionally.
The heart that broke for mine when I was hurt or sad.
The heart that cheered me on when I had the only “non-speaking” role in a school play.
The heart that told me I was beautiful even when I did not believe that I was.
The heart that loves this daughter fully.
The heart that loves its grandchildren with unbridled enthusiasm.
The heart that fiercely protects.
The heart that forgives all.
My mother’s heart is the fullest heart I have ever known, giving of itself, over and over again, until ~ on this day ~ it was in need of mending.
I said this word to myself repeatedly; a reminder that trusting all those charged with my mother’s care was essential. Showering these individuals with love and prayer was as vital a part of a successful outcome as was their obvious knowledge and experience.
There was more, though. I felt my own heart expand each time I intentionally allowed myself to give trust to each person involved in my mother’s surgery, both pre and post-op. The very act of trusting these professionals allowed for an unbroken circle of love. I could feel this energy swirling around each of them. I believe that this sensation of splendor, brought on by my willingness to trust, was felt and that it blessed every hand that touched my mother’s body.
“How glorious the splendor of a human heart that trusts that it is loved.”
“Know that, if for some reason I do not come back, I have loved you every day of my life.”
My mother said these words to me two days prior to her surgery. As I sat in the family waiting area on the day of her operation, the memory of her words penetrated the deepest parts of me. I wanted to sob and say, “Oh, mom, please come back.”
I didn’t though. I smiled and visualized my mother on the operating table. I saw her in my mind and gently touched her forehead. I knew that it was time for me to be her rock, to caress her with my strength, and tell her that everything would be just fine.
I trusted in this gift of passage, and saw within myself the woman my mother raised me to be.
I trusted in this love. I trusted that my mother would be brought back to me. I trusted all.
On this night, the strongest, bravest, most charitable of hearts is healing, resting, and sharing the splendor of its fullness with a daughter who remains forever grateful.
And, if I were to change the beautiful quote by Brennan Manning, I would do so in this way:
How glorious is the greatness of a human heart that trusts.