The yellowShirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pocketsTrimmed in black thread and snaps up the
Front. It was faded from years of wear,
But still in decent shape. I found it in
1963 when I was home from college on Christmas
Break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom
Intended to give away..
‘You’reNot taking that old thing, are you?’ Mom saidWhen she saw me packing the yellow shirt.
‘I wore that when I was pregnant with your
Brother in 1954!’
‘It’s justThe thing to wear over my clothes during artClass, Mom. Thanks!’ I slipped it
Into my suitcase before she could object.
The yellow shirt became a part of my college
Wardrobe. I loved it.
AfterGraduation, I wore the shirt the day I movedInto my new apartment and on Saturday mornings
When I cleaned.
The nextYear, I married. When I became pregnant, IWore the yellow shirt during big-belly
Days. I missed Mom and the rest of my
Family, since we were in Colorado and they were
In Illinois .. But, that shirt
Helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother
Had worn it when she was pregnant, 25 years
Earlier.
ThatChristmas, mindful of the warm feelings theShirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped
It in holiday paper and sent it to Mom.
When Mom wrote to thank me for her ‘real’ gifts,
She said the yellow shirt was lovely. She
Never mentioned it again..
The nextYear, my husband, daughter and I stopped at MomAnd Dad’s to pick up some furniture. Days
Later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I
Noticed something yellow taped to its
Bottom. The shirt!
And so thePattern was set.On ourNext visit home, I secretly placed the shirtUnder Mom and Dad’s mattress I don’t know
How long it took for her to find it, but almost
Two years passed before I discovered it under
The base of our living-room floor lamp.
The yellow shirt was just what I needed now
While refinishing furniture. The walnut
Stains added character.
In 1975 myHusband and I divorced. With my threeChildren, I prepared to move back to Illinois
… As I packed, a deep depression
Overtook me. I wondered if I could make it
On my own. I wondered if I would
Find a job. I paged through the Bible,
Looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read,
‘So use every piece of God’s armor to resist the
Enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all
Over, you will be standing up.’
I tried toPicture myself wearing God’s armor, but all ISaw was the stained yellow shirt.. Slowly,
It dawned on me.. Wasn’t my mother’s love
A piece of God’s armor? My courage was
Renewed.
UnpackingIn our new home, I knew I had to get the shirtBack to Mother. The next time I visited
Her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser
Drawer
Meanwhile,I found a good job at a radio station. AYear later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden
In a rag bag in my cleaning
Closet.
SomethingNew had been added. Embroidered in brightGreen across the breast pocket were the words ‘I
BELONG TO PAT.’
Not to beOutdone, I got out my own embroidery materialsAnd added an apostrophe and seven more
Letters.
Now theShirt proudly proclaimed, ‘I BELONG TO PAT’SMOTHER.’ But I didn’t stop there. I
zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a
friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from
Arlington , VA. We
enclosed an official looking letter from ‘The
Institute for the Destitute,’ announcing that
she was the recipient of an award for good
deeds..
I wouldhave given anything to see Mom’s face when sheopened the box. But, of course, she never
mentioned it..
Two yearslater, in 1978, I remarried. The day ofour wedding, Harold and I put our car in a
friend’s garage to avoid practical jokers. After
the wedding, while my husband drove us to our
honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the
car to rest my head. It felt lumpy.
I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in
wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a
pocket was a note: ‘Read John
14:27-29. I love you both,
Mother.’
That nightI paged through the Bible in a hotel room andfound the verses: ‘I am leaving you with a
gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I
give isn’t fragile like the peace the world
gives.. So don’t be troubled or
afraid. Remember what I told you: I am
going away, but I will come back to you
again. If you really love me, you will be
very happy for me, for now I can go to the
Father, who is greater than I am.. I have told
you these things before they happen so that when
they do, you will believe in
me.’
The shirtwas Mother’s final gift. She had known forthree months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig’s
disease. Mother died the following year at
age 57.
I wastempted to send the yellow shirt with her to hergrave. But I’m glad I didn’t, because it
is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she
and I played for 16 years. Besides, my
older daughter is in college now, majoring in
art. And every art student needs a baggy
yellow shirt with big pockets.