I Wasn’t Alone on Mother’s Day

by | Jun 3, 1999 | Experiencing God, Grief, Mother's Day, Presence

Two weeks before my son Andy died, he and I were at a church festival. They were selling little houseplants. He had 5.00 in his pocket, and somehow without me seeing him, he managed to purchase a tiny Swedish Ivy plant with 3 tiny leaves on it.

That night he gave it to me. I will always remember him standing there, so proud for five years old saying, with his hands behind his back….Mom, I got you something and I looked at home and I know you don’t have one of these…..and he handed me the plant. I had many houseplants in the house. I was so happy, I bent down and hugged and kissed him and told him I would always take care of it and we’d watch it grow and grow. He never got a chance to see it grow.

The plant became a symbol to me, something very precious, as it was the last thing he gave me. I have that plant still today. It will be 26 years old this October. It sets on one of my window stands and draws morning light. It has survived blizzards up north, scorching heat in the south; it’s lived in Arizona, Michigan and Alabama. I would not take a million dollars for it.

But two years ago it did something that still today amazes me as I think of it. My husband and I witnessed something neither one of us will ever forget on Mother’s Day two years ago.

It started out on the Thursday night before Mother’s Day. I noticed a “thing” on one of the tiny stems. It looked like a bud starting. Knowing that was impossible, I didn’t think too much about it. Friday when I got up, I looked at the plant….the “thing” was larger and definitely looked like a bud of some type. I called the horticulture department of the university here and asked if a Swedish Ivy plant could produce flowers, even if the plant was 23 years old. They told me no, but asked if I’d bring the plant to their department to see. I told them no, the plant stayed in my home. Saturday morning I looked at the plant and the bud was bulging, and much larger but still closed up tight. My husband and I watched it until we went to bed, no changes. No bud opening, nothing. Sunday morning when I got up…..Mother’s Day…….I went straight to the plant. There sat on that tiny limb a beautiful flower, that reminded me of an orchid. Purplish, elegant, and simply beautiful. Way too large to stay on that tiny limb it was growing on. I watched the plant all day long. I felt good. I felt I was witnessing something very special. For I knew, I was not alone on Mother’s Day after all.

To this day I believe it was a sign from God, letting me know that even though my two other children were out of state and couldn’t make it home for Mother’s Day……I was not alone on that special day.

Monday morning when I got up, I went right to the plant. The bud has fallen off and shriveled up and was nothing more than a Seed in the soil. Each year now, I always remember that Mother’s Day when a very special flower showed up on a limb so fragile I don’t know how it held the size of bloom that came…….yet it did. I don’t think Heaven is so very far after all…..

Sharon Bryant 1946@bellsouth.net


I Wasn’t Alone on Mother’s Day