My mother, 84, gave up her driver’s license today. It wasn’t an agonizing decision that took months. It was done in her kitchen, as humdrum as deciding between baked potatoes and mashed potatoes. The ordinariness of such a major life shift took my breath away.
My mom, a widow living on her own, looked at the renewal notice she got. She hoped she could renew by mail like she did five years ago. She had to go in person, the letter said. Take a written test and a vision test, be fingerprinted and photographed.
Her initial excitement faded. “I can’t go to the DMV,” she said. Bent over a walker due to unsuccessful back surgery a year ago, she’s less mobile and hasn’t driven her car in months.
When I offered to call DMV about options, she cut me off. “If you keep getting my groceries, everything will be fine.” It was her instruction how we’d negotiate life in the coming months.
I felt sorry for her. Health diminished, freedom to drive forfeited, what cherished thing would she surrender next – sewing, baking, oil painting?
She looked at her license, put it in her purse. “It wasn’t a good picture of me anyway,” she said. Both she and I knew bad photography was not the ball in play.
I was overcome by gratitude. To the Lord for allowing me to serve my mom, and witness a profound teaching moment: Learning how a self-reliant woman yields independence, quietly and by choice, to permit others to help her. If fate forced my hand, would I show the same grace?
I left her house wondering how other families face life’s rough patches. Is there more emotion and drama?
Or do most bumble innocently along, unaware in that moment that something gripping and haunting just happened.
Some families fret and squabble for years over when to grab car keys from aging parents.
For my mom it was enough to see it, accept it, and then, put it away.
