Mother's story is a reminder to count your blessings

Early in February, Andy, our youngest, called home, a rare event indeed. The conversation went something like this:

"Mom, I'll be coming home next Tuesday."

"Andy, that's great. Where are you?"

"I'm in L.A. Our lease is up and I'm bringing some stuff home."

"I thought you were in Florida."

"That was two days ago."

"I thought two days ago you were in Seattle."

"That was last week."

Typical conversation.

As it turned out, Andy didn't need to announce his arrival. I knew he was home the minute I walked in the front door...either that or we had been robbed and ransacked. The foyer, living room, and kitchen were covered with suitcases, garment bags, boxes, and trashbags, all of which were partly unpacked. That was the good news. The basement was another story. Four dirty mattresses were stacked on our pool table, and a new, wide-screen television was sitting in front of our old one. Andy was eager to explain..

"Dad...Mom...I've been thinking that my friends could sure use your old television set. They have a real little one and they have to squint to see the picture and...(You fill in every possible sob story a 25 year old can say to convince his parents to be generous to his friends). We heard it all.

I remember saying, "We'll see."

Andy remembers me saying, "Have at it! We don't want that old television set, anyway."

Next thing I know, pulling out of our driveway was a white truck, our television in the back, with Andy's friends waving good-bye. (Since I never heard a "thank-you," I'm assuming it was good-bye).

As for the mattresses? Another logical explanation.

"Andy, why did you buy used mattresses? These are disgusting."

"I didn't. They were brand new."

"Okay...stupid question, Son, but why are their sides brown?"

"Probably happened when we loaded them onto the trailer."

"You didn't put an old blanket underneath to protect them?"

"Nah...we didn't think about it...probably should have."

Three days later, Andy repacked some of what he had unpacked (the few things he had found time to run through the washing machine's rinse cycle) and, along with his brother Adam, left for spring training with these parting words: "Mom, sorry I didn't have a chance to change my sheets or clean my room or organize stuff. Love you."

"Uh-huh. Love you, too, Son."

Dave and I and the boys stood in our driveway and held hands and prayed for God to give them safety in their journey to Florida. My prayer continued after they left...that I could figure out how to add on a room to accommodate all of Andy's junk.

The following Sunday God made it clear that I should have been counting my blessings for Andy's mess. A group of us women were at church, praying for a grieving mother whose son has made some bad choices. Our hearts were united, imploring God to bring this prodigal son home to his family. I don't think any of us were without tears as we felt the pain of a hurting mother whose son had broken her heart. Following this precious prayer time, I drove home, grieving for this dear friend. Entering through the basement, the first thing I spotted was those four dirty mattresses...and suddenly, not coincidentally, they weren't such a big deal, after all.