I believe in chocolate shakes. Chocolate shakes have healing power in my family.
When I was young and got sick, there was always a part of me that quietly rejoiced because being sick meant that I would get the rare and wonderful treat of a chocolate shake. At first I believed that the shakes were reserved just to soothe a sore throat, but it didn’t take too many colds and fevers to see that the throat had nothing to do with it.
My mother either made or bought the chocolate shake out of empathy. Because she didn’t like to have any of her six children sick, she would give that sweet token of her love to soothe our spirits as much as our bodies. And guess what else? She wouldn’t just give the shake to the sick child. All six kids partook in the joy of one another’s illnesses. One brother would announce, “Tim’s home from school today with a fever,” and we’d all exchange a knowing glance and smile.
I’ve passed this tradition on to my own family, so now my own children enjoy one another’s bad health. Just the other day, my daughter Hannah was vehemently arguing that Jacob’s minor cough was a serious problem needing immediate remedy, supplied by Culver’s.
Six years ago, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. When I first heard the news, I was scared for her and didn’t know what I could do. It was in that moment that I realized I needed to help her as much as she helped me all my life. Those first few days after her diagnosis, I would go over to her house and try to help or even just listen to her worry, but moms aren’t like that. My mom didn’t want me to help, and she sure didn’t want me to worry. As much as I wanted to help my mom, I had to let her still be my strong, loving mother. To help her best, I had to let her feel normal.
The day she went to the hospital to have her mastectomy, I waited, along with my family, unable to help her but willing to support her. Thankfully, the surgery went well and modern medicine fixed her. That night, I went home relieved but unable to shake my feeling of helplessness until an idea struck me.
The next day when I went to see her at the hospital, I brought with me a chocolate shake. My mother looked pale and tired. She complained that she couldn’t keep any food down. I gave her the shake and a hug, and she started to feel better and was able to eat.
I believe in the healing power of chocolate shakes. How could I not?