Look Ma, Cancer Stories!

Being a mother is easy. But from where I'm standing, being a good mother takes superhuman powers. Or a lot of help from God. I'm not sure when the time comes that I'll ever have feet big enough to fill my mother's shoes. I was reminded today what a good parent she is. (It can't go unsaid that my father, a.k.a. Nurse Delton, is an incredible parent as well, but today a certain tv show triggered a particular memory having to do with my mother.)

Let it be noted that this picture is not of my mother. This is Amy Grant, someone whose life and career my mother has been forced to follow for the past 22 years, but she did not give birth to me (Amy Grant - not my mom. My mom gave birth to me.) Also, this child isn't Amy Grant's child. Nor is this child me. So to recap, it's Amy Grant (not my mom) and a child who has cancer (not Amy Grant's child or me).

So during Thanksgiving last month, I spent a lot of time glued to a) my computer, b) the TV, and c) the couch. Ahoy, they were exciting times. During one of these nail-biting adventures, a St. Jude's Hospital telethon made an appearance on the TV. I was locked into the Inter Web and not paying much attention to television - until I heard "Amy Grant." My ears perked. I cranked up the volume. Ooh! Amy Grant was going to be on this telethon!

My mom sauntered into the living room and asked if she could change the channel. "Uh, news flash. Amy Grant is going to be on this show." Okay, I'm sure the dialogue was not quite so cool and apathetic. It was probably more like, "Mama, mama, guess who's gonna be on this show?" To which she most likely responded, "Amy Grant." I think at that moment, she knew if she was going to watch TV, she had only the one choice.

Several times through the first hour of the show, I would hear an occasional "How sad," from the corner of my ear, which was tuning out the sunny, "Little Kayla has terminal cancer and six weeks to live" type dialogue. My mom was a helpless victim whose heart was undoubtedly going out to these dying children. My heart, on the other hand, was more like going out to a comedian on youtube.com.

After about an hour of the program, my mom asked if we could change the channel. "I can't stand it anymore. It's too sad. And Amy Grant hasn't even been on yet." She was on the verge of tears.

Okay, who, but an awesome mom, would watch over an hour of heart-wrenching programming about dying children just so a self-absorbed, obsessive fan could catch a glimpse of her favorite childhood singer? Nobody. That's who.

And so, to my mother I say, there's nobody like you. Next time I'm over, I'll put on some Sesame Street and do a little jig to put a smile on your face. I don't know why. I'm just sayin'. I will.