Mom

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed and with long perfectly manicured fingernails.

I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.

I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Shneck's lawn.

I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.

I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to week someone's garden.

I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and tears of a friend on my shoulder.

I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

-Marjorie Hinckley

That's my mom. She has really lived. And I can't tell you how grateful I am that she still gets to be in my life and can keep living. Moms are irreplacable angels and mine undergoes her last round of chemo to treat her breast cancer tomorrow morning at 8:30.

"I hurt when you hurt, Boo." Is what my mom would tell me when I'd failed my math test in 5th grade; when I'd be bandaged up with casts and braces from basketball; when I went through my own cancer. The last 4 months we've been aching with you.

We're looking forward to celebrating some fuzz on your head and a bit more energy.

But until then, when it hurts and you're feeling gross, know we are right beside you with cozy blankets and snacks to at least make your heart feel a little better. Sometimes that's all you need.

I love you, Mom.