Less than a week from today, on May 28th, 2022, my baby, my only child, Addison Elise Riley, will graduate from high school. Emotions are high and with each momentous event (her FFA banquet, graduate Sunday at church, and baccalaureate) I’ve been surrounded by tears from other parents, my own parents, and Addie herself. But I haven’t shed a tear…nor will I.
Don’t misunderstand, though.
I am greatly affected by these events. Seeing her baby pictures on the screen brings back memories of days when life seemed slower and more intimate. My heart is about to break facing the reality of her leaving home and closing this chapter of her life. There are moments when I am overcome with desperation for time to slow down and for the simple moments of her life to be elongated… sitting on the couch beside me watching TV… eating a meal together as a family of three… taking a nap on my bed.
Tears are right on the surface, but I refuse to cry. I can’t. I came so close to not being here for this time in her life, and I choose to view every moment as a gift.
You see, in 1999 I was diagnosed with a rare esophageal disorder that essentially closed my throat and made it impossible for me to eat. I had a very complicated surgery at The University of Kentucky to fix the problem but they told me that the surgery was a one shot deal. If my condition ever relapsed, surgery probably wouldn’t be an option and there was no other cure.
For ten years I lived with no recurrence. But, in 2009 after having weight loss surgery and being in the intensive care unit for a week, my condition relapsed. Nothing, not even water, would go down without excruciating pain or with the assistance of nitroglycerin pills to “jumpstart” my esophagus long enough to get food down.
The doctors at UK told me that the only option left for me was a major surgery where they would cut me from my throat down through my rib cage, to my belly button, where they would open my entire midsection. They told me there was only a 50% chance that I would survive such an invasive surgery and there was no guarantee it would fix the problem.
People in churches around the globe started praying for a miracle.
The day I received this news, I went by myself to the church cemetery where my family is buried and where I, too, will one day be laid to rest. I looked at our family plot and I remember as clear as a bell crying out to God for mercy with tears streaming down my face. Addie was 5 years old and in kindergarten at the time; a baby. She had so much life ahead and I knew she needed a Mama. I prayed specifically to God for Him to let me live long enough to see her graduate from high school. “Give me enough time to teach her about You and point her in the right direction. Just get me to graduation.”
A few weeks before my surgical appointment at the Mayo Clinic in Minneapolis, MN, I had one final test to undergo at UK; eating radioactive eggs so they could see just how much my esophagus wasn’t functioning properly. This was almost laughable because I couldn’t even drink water, let alone eat eggs at the time. But, as I started the impossible task, I noticed that something felt different in my throat. The first bite went down…then another…and another.
The result came back that day that my esophagus was completely open. My doctors were baffled and to this day have no explanation for my recovery. From that day forward, I had no problem with my swallowing. I was 100% divinely healed by the Lord and still am.
In six short days, Addie will walk across the stage at Mercer County Senior High School as the answer to the prayer of a desperate mother who put what little faith she had left into a God who had it under control the entire time and could see this day coming.
These years haven’t been easy. There have been many trials and tribulations, and at times it seemed like satan was trying to make sure this day would not come. But here we are and Lord willing, Addie WILL graduate. Not only will she graduate, but she will graduate with honors…a 4.22 GPA. She has turned into an amazing young woman who is ambitious and wants to help others, and I’ve been able to live long enough to see it…
So, I won’t cry at her graduation. Instead, I’ll be the mother soaking up every minute detail and thanking God for every small thing that happens. Yes, that day will be bittersweet, but more than anything, I will praise the God who gave me this moment and answered my prayer.
If you look at me in the gym on Saturday and see me smiling, understand where that smile comes from and what my journey has been. I am blessed beyond measure and humbled beyond words. I could choose to cry, but instead, I have decided to be thankful and to remember where I was all those years ago. He heard my cry and He answered me. I didn’t deserve it and I don’t understand it, but I do know that He continues to be good, all the time… Thank you, Jesus.
