A song by Christian Songwriter and Performer, Laura Story, has a verse that says:
"We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
But long that we'd have the faith to believe."
It is a beautiful song that always brings me to tears, wherever I am, for it makes me think about my mother. This song carries forth the words I don't have on my own, up to our Lord and they embody all the pain, sadness, anger, doubt, loss and loneliness for my mother that I feel every day. I sing along, tears soaking my face, and I am lifted up into the presence of the Lord and for that moment I feel His grace and His mercy. My pain is not lifted, but I feel Him near.
Last week I was so down. I really felt alone. And yet He hears me.
On Sunday, both boys went with me to see Mom. It was such a good visit! Mom was more lucid than of late. She was involved in a game of Bingo and asked us to wait so she could finish the game! This was a first. Usually she can't wait to be finished. This was such a good sign. She looked up at me and whispered "I love you" and I whispered back "I love you too!" and then she finished with "I love you more!" My mom was my mom!
The 4 of us went to her room to visit so I could hang up the remainder of the photos and various things on her walls. Several times she stated that by me putting these things up it meant she would be there for a long time. I told her it did. At least for now. It wouldn't matter if I told her the reasons. She wouldn't remember them later. And explaining the whole rotten reason only makes her so sad. So by agreeing to a shortened version I spare her, and me, the agony of the reality.
A couple of times she'd look at me and say:
"Okay, let me just ask this one thing. I can't come live with you, can I?"
"No, Mom." I'd reply.
"And why again?" she'd ask.
And I would say "because I'm not home enough to take care of you the way you need to be taken care of."
To that she would say "You're right. You're right."
And then we'd be off discussing something else. It was as normal conversation. Normal for us, now.
We spent the afternoon looking at photos we found in a box and as we looked at them I would write the names of who was in the picture and who they belonged to so when she looked at them later she would remember.
It was a good visit. She made jokes with the staff as she walked us to the locked door.
God is merciful.
