My Sweet Reminder

French toast.

All he wanted was French toast.

And she said no.

She didn’t know he’d have an aneurysm the next day. She didn’t know he wouldn’t make it back to their breakfast table. She didn’t know he’d leave her holding guilt, instead of eggy milk and bread, and a spatula to try to flip her life back

to the decision that played nightmare in her dreams…

French toast was never meant to be eaten with regret.

She said, “No.” It haunted her for years – a ghost that swirled its icy fingers around her heart and brought a chill to all those around. Her regret reeked of death, etching a groove in her brain that played over and over and over… If only, if only, if only. How could I? How could I? How could I?

I’m bad, I’m evil. I don’t deserve to live.

I’m bad. I’m evil. I don’t deserve to live.


Regret wreaked havoc in our home, in our mom. She wasted years fighting its ugly hold.

In the end, it took unearthly courage to reach out for help, to decide on drastic measures deemed necessary, to agree to an electric shock to shove her brain past the etched out madness and wake her up from that dark, dark place.

But awaken she did.

She clawed her way back to life

She made her way back to truth

And she lived the rest of her life do the hard work

of forgiving herself

… of looking Regret – square in his insidious face  – and send him straight back to Hell by living out her days with Hope.

And send him back she did.


French toast.

My sweet reminder:


Life begins and ends with forgiveness.


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11 thoughts on “My Sweet Reminder

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  1. Oh Jane, I don’t know what to say. This is a riveting, sad, encouraging story. I forgot to breathe as I read it. A life of Hope and forgiveness is what we all need. Bless you for sharing this most personal testimony. Cindy Wilkins at #fmf Facebook page

  2. Wow – that was so powerful. Sorry for all that your family struggled through but so grateful that there was healing and that reminder of hope for you and your mom!! Thanks for sharing your story.

  3. Indeed, she did come back…

    I remember a conversation I had with our Mom one day in her kitchen after she’d come home after yet another several day hospitalization with another round of shock treatments, which the 4 of us kids all hoped would finally blast that last regret out of her brain cells forever…. And, out of nowhere she whispered, “You know, Pat, I still remember”…. ‘Remember what, Mom’? “You know what, that morning & what your Dad wanted for breakfast that I didn’t think was healthy for him so I denied him that… That shock treatment didn’t erase that memory, Pat”….’ Wow, Mom, REALLY’, I whispered back to her…. ‘Then, what did you do with all that guilt, Mom’?And our dear, dear, sweet little Mom, pointed to one of her several prayer verses safely magneted onto her refrigerator door, and said “I just turn it over to Him every day with a prayer”….

    What a gentle, humble, courage- filled saint our sweet Mama was… An amazing spiritual mentor, a true follower of Jesus who walked the walk—not one who just talked it. Thank you, Mom, for the never-ending life lessons you gave us kids to ponder on and try to emulate daily this side of eternity.

    I take such comfort in knowing you have eternal peace and joy now with the Lord, never more something you have to struggle to grasp…

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