Reckless



I’m a mother. I’m a mother of two teenage adults, Jill and Jim. Jill is 19, while her brother, Jim is 18. By God, my children are no short of reckless. I wish I could say otherwise.
But how does a sweet mother that tries to do everything for her children the right way end up having the opposite of what she has always wanted?
Their father, my husband is sick with stroke and is in a nursing home. I go to see him every day. He’s been there for 5years. We used to be a sweet family, I think. I hope we still are. I should speak faith, but my faith is spent, you don’t know what I’ve been through. I have some to be grateful for, though, like my husband, he’s so very supportive even though he has been confined to just resting, as we choose to call it.
When I go over to see him at the nursing home we pray together for our kids, thank God for his recovery and intercede for God’s children who might be caught up in the cares of life. It’s a relief to pray for other people, to take the attention from all of the ‘give-me-attention’ in one’s own life and just pray for someone else.





I usually take our lunch there. We eat together, talking back and forth about scriptures, about our children. Believe me, my husband can be a really entertaining gist. Our relationship is the most beautiful thing I can think of. When I’m with him it seems I can hold it together. But once I step out the room, I have only a thread of my faith left. I hardly even pray these days, just cry to God, talk to the Holy Spirit. I hope that counts as prayer.
My husband and I, we can’t do all the things couples do with him in the nursing home, but we do some. It’s always a relief to have the only one person in the world that gets it get into all your inner parts, your body, your mind, soul, spirit and all. I’m grateful to God. Why won’t I?
“I’m afraid something’s wrong” The nurse at the reception unit of the huge nursing facility my husband stays in says as I step into the foyer. This is so wrong. She could give me a heart attack with this. Nut I understand, everyone here loves my husband. He’s an inspiration, they say. How can he not be?
“Sweetie, I’m-“
“You’re here, I know” He says smiling weakly, searching for my hand. I put it in his. He looked a lot stronger and better than this only yesterday. I had even dared to start thinking we could move him back to the house.
“I love you, Marsha” He’s saying, and the tears are rolling down my face.
“Why are you talking like this, sweetie? You can’t leave, you know”
He smiles tapping the back of my hand that is in his. I’m vaguely aware of the nurse still standing at the door. It’s all to keep me from losing it completely.








“You’re a strong woman, Marsha. You don’t deserve this much pain in your life-“
I’m shaking my head wildly, the sobs overtaking me, my nose starting to dribble, the tears streaming down my face. “You’re not a pain, sweetie, you’re not. The bills are, but you’re not. You’re my joy, sweetie, can’t you see.”
“I’m only raking up more bills for you to pay, Marsha” He’s looking really sad. I’m blinded by my tears, but I still spot the unmistakable trail of tears run down his face.
“Please stay, sweetie. How am I ever going to fix Jill and Jim-“
“No Marsha, don’t ever say it again. Jill and Jim are sweet kids, they don’t need fixing. God has them where he wants them, Marsha. You have to be strong in your faith”
“My faith is in shreds, sweetie.” I’m kneeling at his bedside, my both hands in his.
“Then let God’s faith work in you. Don’t try, just let him”
I was going to say something, but he brought me up to the bed and closed his lips over mine. The door closed behind me.
I got the call this morning. My husband died in the night. I should have stayed with him, but he insisted I go home and get some rest. I fall in the parlor sofa and try to cry, but I can’t. A deep sense of peace overwhelms me and then I’m singing and worshipping God, and then the tears start coming, not for my husband, but for the joy of having this deep sense of God so near. O, I never want to let go of him anymore.
“Good morning mum” Jill mutters opening the fridge, taking out the bread there. She doesn’t sound like she expects me to answer.
“Good morning my princess, how was your night?” She gives me a very strange look, and then comes to sit on a sofa handle. As a child, Jill could be very theatrical.
“What happened?”
“I don’t understand-“
She shrugs then stand up, “You’re usually too lost to answer any greetings, that’s all”
She stuffs a slice of bread in her mouth. I scowl at her. She smiles, her eyes all lit up for a moment she appears to gag over the bread, then she gets over it. Jim sneaks a peek into the room, looking unsure.
“Good morning mum” He’s retreating to his room
“My prince” A long pause, even Jill’s brows are raised.
Jim plods back into the parlor, looking every inch surprised. He looks at his sister, then at me. His sister shrugs. Now it’s getting to me.
“Tell me, what’s been happening, you two”
I’ve been acting dreamingly, crying incessantly. They had to huddle together and pray for me. I was constantly nagging them about not caring enough, even accused them of defiling each other’s bodies. Now that was just way over the top. How could I?
Tears are streaming down my face. How did all this happen without my knowing?
“You call us reckless, every time” Jim sounds pained, despite himself. “I don’t even know what the word means”
Jill sits beside me rocking me. I rest my head on her shoulder. I remember something and raise my head quite too suddenly, looking at both of them, they cringe.








“But you never asked about your father”
They both exchanged scanty looks.
“You told us five years ago that dad is dead and we should never bring it up”
Now I’m beside myself. What is wrong with me!
“Is dad alive? “ Jim asks
“He was, he died last night”
“Wow, that’s some news” Jim says, his face screwed in a frown. He looks so much like his mother.
“It’s okay mum. Everything is okay now.”
“But how can you tell, she doesn’t seem to remember-“
“Jim, what does the scripture say? We walk by faith not by sensory perception”
I hug her. She’s my husband in another flesh. She has his faith.
“No Marsha, don’t ever say it again. Jill and Jim are sweet kids, they don’t need fixing. God has them where he wants them, Marsha. You have to be strong in your faith” I reflect on my husband’s words
“My faith is in shreds, sweetie.”
“Then let God’s faith work in you. Don’t try, just let him”
I feel joy well up in me again. I pat the space beside me, for Jim to sit. He plops beside me. I wrap an arm over his waist.



“I love you two. And I will forever.” `The sobs try to overtake me, I manage to suppress them, not to hide them, but because I’m tired of crying and crying “I don’t know how long forever is, but however long that is, we’ll stick together, won’t we?”
“Sure mum” Jill says. Jim wraps an arm around my back.
Faith is reckless assurance. I don’t know how that fits, but I know that it’s God working in us both to will and do of his good pleasure. I make a commitment never to be worried by anything again, the bills or my children. Meanwhile, my husband left us a gold mine of money somewhere. His lawyer brought the documents today, on hearing of his death.
Faith is reckless assurance. We can choose what we want to believe. A hint from me to you, only choose what empowers you and pulls you upward.
Faith is reckless assurance.


Written by: A. W. Supreme 



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