Mom and I arrived home before the rest of the family.I was glad.I wanted some time alone.With my chin almost touching my chest,I pulled off my coat and hung it in the closet.When I turned around my mother was standing right in front of me.She didn’t say anything.She just stood there looking into my eyes with tears running down her cheeks.Seeing her cry was too much for me.Before I knew what was happening,I was in her arms bawling like a big baby.A few minutes later,she led me into the living room to the couch.
“Sit down,honey.I want to talk to you.”
I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve and waited,plucking at the crease in my trousers.
“You heard what the doctor said about your not finishing school.I don’t believe him.”
I stopped sniffling and looked at her.Her mild blue eyes smiled into mine.Behind them lay an iron will.“We’ll have to work very hard,you and I,but I think we can do it.Now that I know what the problem is,we can try to overcome it.I’m going to hire a tutor who knows about dyslexia.I’ll work with you myself evenings and weekends.”Her eyebrows drew down as she peered at me.“Are you willing to work,Peter?Do you want to try?”
A ray of hope shone through the hazy future.“Yes,Mom.I really want to.”
The next six years were an endurance run for both of us.I studied with a tutor twice a week until I could haltingly read my lessons.Each night,my mom and I sat at my little desk and rehearsed that day’s schoolwork for at least two hours,sometimes until midnight.We drilled for tests until my head pounded and the print blurred before my eyes.At least twice a week,I wanted to quit.I had the strength of a kitten,but my mom’s courage never wavered.
She’d rise early to pray over my school day.A thousand times I heard her say,“Lord,open Peter’s mind today.Help him remember the things we studied.”
Her vision reached beyond the three R’s.Twice I won at statewide speech competitions.I participated in school programs and earned a license to work as an announcer on a local radio station.
Then my mother developed chronic migraines during my senior year.She blamed the headaches on stress.Some days the intense pain kept her in bed.Still she’d come to my room in the evening,wearing her robe,an ice pack in her hand,to study with me.
We laughed and cried when I passed my senior finals.Two days before graduation I talked to my mother and father about Bible college.I wanted to go,but I was afraid.
Mom said,“Apply at the Bible Institute in our town.You can live at home,and I’ll help you.”
I put my arms around her and hugged her close,a baseball-sized lump in my throat.
A week after graduation,my mom felt a stabbing pain in her head.She became disoriented for just a moment,but seemed to be all right.It was another migraine,she thought,so she went to bed.That night Dad tried to wake her.She was unconscious.
A few hours later,a white-coated doctor told us Mom had an aneurysm that had burst.A massive hemorrhage left us no hope.She died two days later.
My grief almost drowned me.For weeks I walked the floor all night,sometimes weeping,sometimes staring at nothing.Did I have a future without my mother?She was my eyes,my understanding,my life.Should I still enroll in Bible school?The thought of going on alone filled me with terror.But,deep inside,I knew I had to move on to the next step,for her.
When I brought home the first semester’s books and course outlines,I sat in the chair at my little desk.With trembling fingers,I opened my history book and began to read the first chapter.Suddenly,I looked over at the chair she used to sit in.It was empty,but my heart was full.
Mom’s prayers still followed me.I could feel her presence.I could sense her faith.
In my graduation testimony I said,“Many people had a part in making Bible college a success for me.The person who helped me most is watching from Heaven tonight.To her I say,‘Thank you,Mom,for having faith in God and faith in me.You will always be with me.’”