A Mama’s Cry

 The hospital room was sterile and cold, a shivering place for a young teenager. My Mom had undergone a simple biopsy, but the time for Outpatient Procedures had not yet arrived in our 1970’s small town. So my Mom was awakening from the anesthesia and due to arrive back to her room at any time.  I waited for what seemed an eternity, and as I huddled in the corner, I heard the nurses hurriedly wheeling the cart in, but shouting instructions to several helpers. “Wake her up! Get assistance! She’s not breathing!”  My heart started pounding as the tears rolled down my cheeks. . . 

. . .
I am so blessed once again to share words over at my friend Anna Smit’s website, BelovedProdigal.
Join me there to read the rest of this post
by clicking here. 
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