Have you ever felt guilty about something that happened a long time ago—something that, when you think back, you so wish you had done differently? I have times when heavy thoughts creep into my mind—and I start thinking about things in the past I wish I could change. If I let myself, I can easily struggle with worry and guilt… and that’s so pointless. Keeping those regrets alive serves no positive purpose.
My dear Mother battled cancer for a long time—always with a smile on her face and joy in her heart. It was really something—her faith, her strength, her happiness. She was a wonderful patient, and it was always a joy to be around her. But as her daughter, it was also very difficult to see her unable to get up and go with me—to leave the hospital and go out and about to have fun like we had always done. We were in and out of UAMS in Little Rock a lot during the last year of her life, and it was….very hard. I just desperately wanted everything to go back to normal. Still, we found ways to celebrate and enjoy the days together. Mother was pretty good at it – and I followed her example.
Birthdays were always, always a very big deal to my Mother. When I was a little girl, she planned the best parties for me—always unique and so much fun. She loved to create such fun activities for me and my friends.
Mother was also a wonderful cook, and there are so many of her meals that I loved (and miss!)… but her wonderful fried tacos were always my favorite. So on my birthday, she would always make fried tacos for me with fresh strawberry cake for dessert. The menu stayed the same every year. I loved it—and so did she.
It was a tradition she never wanted to break. One year on my birthday, when I was teaching in Republic, Missouri, she called me (as she always did) while I was driving to work to sing Happy Birthday. She sang cheerfully, but I could tell something was wrong. When I asked her, she admitted that she was driving herself to the emergency room but told me firmly not to worry.
As it turns out, she had done some eyeglass repair the night before and left a little white bottle of super glue on the bathroom sink. The next morning when she got up, she picked up her morning eyedrops… she thought… and squeezed a big drop into one eye. It burned, and she blinked, and her eyelid stayed shut. Still sleepy, she had picked up the super glue instead of the eyedrops.
She told me to pray and not to worry, and that she would call the school to update me later. I offered to head down immediately to be with her at the hospital, but she told me there was no need. She was almost there, and they would take care of everything. Then…she asked me what time I wanted her to have the tacos ready that evening. Good grief! I told her that we could skip the tacos—or at the very least put them off until another day—and she firmly told me that she WOULD cook my birthday tacos for me on my birthday, and that I just needed to let her know what time. I told her we could talk about it later – but I smiled inside – because I knew she was not going to be stopped. 🙂 Well, to shorten the story—they did get her eye flushed, opened, cleaned, and bandaged… and she did bake my birthday cake that afternoon and fry those tacos that night. I am smiling now just thinking about it.
Fast forward several years to the last birthday I ever got to spend with my Mother. I had worked the day before, and even though I was taking off to head to Little Rock (a 3+ hour drive) to spend my birthday with Mother, I had decided to go home and spend the night in my own bed before driving down. It wasn’t typical for me – and I must admit, it puzzled me—because it would have been easier to just drive to Little Rock after work—but instead I had gone home. I felt a little guilty about it. Talking to Mother on the phone, however, she assured me that it was a good idea—that I would rest better at home in my own bed and could drive down the next morning. I looked forward to seeing her and planned on leaving early.
The next morning, however, I was so slow getting ready. It seemed like I was somehow dragging my feet as I made some breakfast, put my makeup on, packed a bag… everything just seemed to be taking longer than normal – and for no good reason. I stayed in slow motion, and I ended up leaving much, much later than I had anticipated. Mother and I spoke by phone, of course, and she assured me that all was fine—but I knew that she was looking forward to me being there…and that I was the one causing the delays – and I really couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to be there – to see her smile, to get my hug – to celebrate my day, but I couldn’t seem to get out the door.
I was thoughtful and prayerful on the drive to Little Rock…and I finally faced the reality that this would probably be the last birthday I would spend with my dear Mother. I was avoiding that fact by not facing the day. It’s hard to explain, but I didn’t want to admit that she might not be here on my next birthday, so I let myself get caught in a painful spinning wheel of emotions. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was late because I was scared and sad, feeling like that little girl who wanted to run away to the past where Mother was healthy. But of course, I couldn’t.
When I finally parked my car at UAMS, I felt guilty and embarrassed that it was already after lunch. I should have been there sooner…and I knew it. I felt sad.
When I got off the elevator and turned to walk down her hall, a nurse smiled at me and said, “Happy birthday!” I thanked her and walked a few more steps, and a nurse’s aide said, “Oh, hello! I hear it’s your birthday!” Mother’s room was toward the end of the hall, and by the time I got there—doctors, nurses, housekeepers, you name it—everyone was telling me Happy Birthday. My Mother was so excited about it that she had literally proudly told everyone.
I walked into her room to see her big, beautiful smile, and bright happy eyes. I told her I was sorry I was late, and she hugged me and told me it was fine. She had even managed to get a present for me—from her hospital bed. That day was happy and hard all at the same time… We laughed and enjoyed the day. It is a memory that I treasure.
But every now and then, the guilt of that day comes back to me. My mind starts to swirl and painful thoughts start to take over:
- “You knew that could be your last time to celebrate your birthday with her. Why didn’t you get there earlier?”
- “Mother must have been so disappointed that I wasn’t there early that morning. She was so looking forward to seeing me.”
- “How could I have taken so long to get down there—when I would give so much for a few more minutes with her now?”
If I let them, these thoughts can really take over…just typing them now is very hard for me…but dwelling on these things serves no positive purpose. I was slow that day because I love my Mother so dearly – and I wanted time to stop – because time was taking her away from me.
Feeling guilty about something I cannot now change just makes me sad, undermines my confidence, and piles on stress. SO—I tell myself that I have to think on the good things, and I work to focus specifically on the good things of that specific day. There are MANY:
- I got a hug and a kiss from my Mother that day.
- She was so proud of me she told almost everyone on the floor that it was my birthday.
- I got to see her beautiful smile.
- We played Trouble and Dominoes together.
- We had a big window and a beautiful view of Markham Street in Little Rock.
- We laughed together.
- We talked about wonderful memories of other times.
- She knew how very much I loved her.
- We were together.
The mind is powerful—and the good news is we really do get to choose what we think about.
It took me a long time to realize that the grace my mother gave me that afternoon when I walked in late was the same grace I needed to start giving myself. She wasn’t counting the hours on the clock; she was just counting the blessings of us being in the same room. But even more than that, it is the very same grace the Lord offers us. Jesus doesn’t stand over us with a stopwatch, tallying up our past mistakes or measuring our regrets. He met my brokenness with open arms, reminding me that He has already carried the weight of my guilt so that I don’t have to.
Regret wants to anchor us to our weakest moments, but the Lord’s love anchors us to the truth. My mother lived her life with a smile on her face and joy in her heart, choosing faith over fear every single day—even from a hospital bed. She walked in the freedom of the Lord’s grace, and the best way I can honor her legacy and our precious Savior isn’t by looking back at the past with regret, but by looking forward with the same strength and faith she showed me.
Whenever the shadows of those old thoughts try to creep back in, I take a deep breath, I think of her smile, and most of all I remember the Lord’s promise to cover our past with His grace and give us a future full of hope. I choose to dwell on the light. I choose (over and over again) to think on the good things.
God’s Promise to Clear Away Our Regrets:
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” — Isaiah 43:18-19
His Promise to Redeem Our Hardest Days:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” — Romans 8:28
His Instruction on How to Protect Our Minds:
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” — Philippians 4:8
Our Declaration of Victory to Move Forward:
“But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 3:13-14
