"Say 'hello' to Jesus, first, Mom."

I wrote this for an event we are having at our church tomorrow called, "Pray That". It is an all day, open sanctuary event, for people who have been affected by cancer, whether personally or through the diagnosis of a loved one or friend. There will be scripture read, prayers for those needing it, and also there will be stories shared in memory of those that have died because of it.

The following is what I wrote for my mom who died three years ago to stage four small cell lung cancer. Though I am in Mandeville, LA, my son Nicholas will be reading it in the sanctuary in my absence tomorrow.

Wanted to share it with all of you.

Blessings,
Mark

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I have been singing most of my life. Funny thing is, my mom always told me growing up that I sang my first words, I didn't speak them. As i think back, I realize that music has always been in me and it was always my mom that encouraged me to share that gift. I sang for small city festivals. I traveled to the nursing homes and sang for the residents. I sang at our home when my parents had friends over and I always had to sing Christmas songs EVERY Christmas Eve until my mom thought our house had officially caught the "spirit of Christmas". Music; it has always been a part of my life.

It was April of 2008 when our family learned that my mom had stage four small cell lung cancer. From the day that she checked into the hospital and found out it was cancer, to the time she died, it was about two weeks. It happened so quickly.

I remember our talks in the hospital. I remember one specific moment when mom looked at me and said,

"You know I love you, right?"
"Of course I do, mom."
"And you know that I know without a doubt where I will be going when I die."
"Yes, mom, heaven."
"And you know who I am going to see when I get there don't you?"
"Jesus."
"No, Mark. Elvis! I am going to get to see Elvis!"

(I encouraged her to speak to Jesus first. Then Elvis.)

But the one moment I will carry with me will be the moment I brought my guitar and shared with her a song I had written several months prior to her diagnosis called, "Hallelujah, Anyway". In typical mom fashion, she called every nurse and doctor she could find and gathered a small audience for me as I played the song I had written.

"When it all falls apart. Unraveling at the seems. And the words won't even start, and you find it hard to breathe.
And you need a hand to lean on, but there's nothing there to see. You can rest upon this promise, and you can say this prayer with me:
Hallelujah, Anyway. I'll give you all the glory. Hallelujah, Anyway. Let me life proclaim this story. I may not like this place, I find myself today.
But this my humble cry: Hallelujah, Anyway."

It was hard to get through that song. As I sang, my mom closed her eyes and mouthed the words; "I may not like this place, I find myself today, but this my humble cry, hallelujah anyway". I prayed for healing that day in the hospital. And though mom passed away, i realize healing did come.

It has been three years since mom died. Hard to believe that time passes by so quickly. But I am certain of this: she is front row-center at every worship event I lead, every song I write she is singing along and every sermon I preach she is listening in. And, praise God, I know where she is and who she is with. (I just hope she said hello to Jesus first before finding Elvis;-)

Mom, thank you for starting the music in my life.
Mark