I haven’t written in my blog for months, since my mother died in early June after a long battle with Dementia and kidney disease. I’m coming out of the storm and good memories are returning to me. I see her in myself. I hear her speak when I say things she used to say. When I reach out sometimes I see her hand reaching toward one of us sitting at the dining table and I see her laughing.
After her passing, it was a busy time at the church, and though I took a short time to rest, I really didn’t take the time to grieve. Yet, in some ways I grieved throughout the seven years we cared for her, because I lost her little by little. I can laugh now about when she’d come out of her room with her bra on her head, but then it wasn’t humorous at all. She became increasingly agitated, even mean at times. She was petite in statute but strong in spirit, which other than Gods grace probably kept her with us longer than we expected.
When you care for and live with someone suffering with an increasingly debilitating disease, you begin to live in crisis mode. Each new day brings a fresh challenge and just when you think there may be a day or two of normalcy something occurs to rip it away – her refusing to eat and hiding her meds in her pocket, refusing to drink, sneaking out of the house ending up in a ditch at the end of the driveway or in the back of the sheriff’s car.
It became so bad that I finally had to give up and put her in a nursing home. That brought on fresh crises as she adjusted, her fighting the staff, forgetting my name, and losing the ability to walk and eventually talk. Through those final stages of her life her sweet nature returned and she was peaceful, and always happy to see me. Oh yes, I lost her little by little and grieved all a long the way.
Living in crisis mode over a long period of time affected me in ways both positive and negative. I’ve become more compassionate toward those who are suffering. I once again learned that God’s presence in my life is a sustaining force, and when my strength was gone, God was my strength.
He gave me places of laughter and joy in the midst of my tumultuous existence, and helped me to hold it together week after week to stand in front of my congregation and proclaim His love. But I became a very anxious person, pretty much because I never knew what I’d be faced with from the time my eyes opened and I opened my bedroom door.
I learned to put on the mask of peace and shove my emotions down. After all, the pastor can’t walk around boohooing and disturbed all the time, but one can only stuff so much though, before they all come bursting to the surface.
So for the past four months, I’ve kind of been like one who is standing on the shore in the aftermath of a treacherous storm trying to figure out how to rebuild my frazzled nerves and battered heart. How does one move on from crisis and survival mode to purposeful and joyful living? Well, for me it’s a choice. It’s really always been a choice – a choice to exhale the toxins of chronic stress, and inhale the gift of grace present all around me. One of the ways I’m moving on is beginning a new ministry outreach to hurting women and men called Living Stones.
Seasons come and seasons go, and in every one God’s grace – His ability, love and favor – has brought me through. I choose joy, and to live my life like my nurturing, loving mother did – thankfully, giving praise to God and demonstrating God’s love and care for those God places in my path.
“Sing to the LORD, all you godly ones! Praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime! Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
~ Psalm 30:4-5 (NLT)
“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)
Life Lessons for the Journey 