Compassion the Way Mom Taught

There was a time when I thought my parents walked on water -- particularly my mom. Mom was the carpool driving, cupcake baking, epitome of the stay-at-home mother. She spent hours decorating our home for holidays, sewing Halloween costumes and school clothes, even decorating our classroom for parties. She taught me how to make the lives of others better, how to bring smiles to others' faces, and to always root for the underdog; she taught me compassion. Years later, a rift occurred, making it almost impossible for me to have a relationship with her.

Now, here we are, caring for her and living with her each and every day. It's not easy. I won't lie and tell you that I have allowed forgiveness for her to wash over me, transforming my view of all this. It is something I give up to God regularly. Pain, and the lack of resolution. She has no recollection of any of the events of that time. There will be no making amends or moment where tears fall and the music swells; in the natural, there is, there will never be reconciliation. When it comes to serving and caring for Mom, some days are just days, other days are an exercise in total dependence on God for even the faintest of smiles to wiggle their way up from my heart. And Mom needs smiles. Smiles make her feel that everything is ok, even when the storms within me want to rage and howl, "Everything IS NOT ok!"

I won't tell you that each and every morning, I race down the stairs looking forward to my first interaction with Mom. I never know what I'm going to get. A pleasant greeting? Or the sad, fearful look of a little child that fades from her face now that I have arrived? Will she scold me for showing up late? Or will she just look at me with that look of total dependence that can instantly cause my shoulders to slump from the weight of it all? Or will she immediately start balking at everything I ask her to do? I won't tell you that my heart just bursts with compassion for her each time she makes a face or rolls her eyes when I ask her to wash her hands or sit down for breakfast.

I need God everyday. I need His mercy. I need His grace. I need His forgiveness. I need His strength and His wisdom. I am a mess without His presence. Life is chaos and despair without His goodness.

This afternoon, Scott lovingly banished me to my office so I could write. He was sitting with Mom when she had a pretty serious meltdown. She insisted our house was hers and it was time for Scott to leave. Now, Scott and I fought long and hard for this house, but that's a story for another day. Suffice to say, we have put lots of labor and care into it; to have someone stand in your living room and declare it is theirs, that everything in it is theirs, is -- regardless of their cognitive abilities -- shocking, to say the least. And in our case, it can bring back some unpleasant memories. When Scott dashed up the stairs, eyes like saucers, his face scarlet, seeking my intervention, I knew diffusing the situation was going to require some compassion.

We strive to allow Mom as much autonomy as possible while at the same time, make sure she remains safe. Hearing this was our house and she needed to get it together would have been of no help. (I'm actually grateful she feels it's hers.) And, obviously I wasn't going to send Scott packing, but Mom needed to feel safe and in control of her circumstances as well. (It hurts me to think how out of control she must feel.) So, I spoke soothingly; I allowed her to cry; I hugged her; I treated her meltdown as I did my children's when they were small -- and I gave her Cracker Jacks. Things were back to normal -- well, our normal, anyway.

I'm not sure what brought it on -- a dietary imbalance, some sort of "trigger" as her mind wandered. I'm not sure I handled it the way experts would advise. I'm not sure if this was a flash in the pan, or the first of many. I am sure I handled it the way I thought was right, the way I believe God requires; I am sure I handled it the way Mom taught me.

"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."                                                                                    --Colossians 3:12