It's About Me

Archive for the ‘Dear God’ Category

…after last night’s election, hell has officially frozen over.

Got this in my morning devotional and it’s been weighing on me: Don’t use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them. Ephesians 4:29. And this: Proverbs 18:13 (NLT) says, What a shame, what folly, to give advice before listening to the facts!

The Bible is always so accurate, and we can learn so much sometimes by keeping our mouths shut. Sometimes silence is the best form of communication. Hard for me though…I’m kin to my mother. She always had an opinion too. Sometimes though, she just didn’t announce it to everyone. She thought it though. Damn I miss her. I look at that fishing photo on her blog, and I see those eyes, and I think this ordeal has been some kind of joke. I barely remember the sick person of just a few weeks ago. I remember my mother at her strongest, and when I do that’s when I hurt the most.

I’ve been living in denial mostly these past few weeks. Just ignoring my hurt, and moving on to life’s dulldrums and keeping busy. But if I’m drawn to her blog, I see her, the alive, strong ‘her’ and I ache to my very core. I call Bill every night like I used to mom. The poor guy probably wishes I’d let up. But I miss her.

Today I turn 42. I feel older. Hell, I even look older. But today, these things don’t matter. Instead of cake and ice cream. presents and parties, I’m sitting in Yantis Texas watching my mother die. Happy Birthday to me.

She took a turn for the worse today, just when I thought she might get a little better. We bought a pile of baby food and have been feeding her through a syringe. I really thought she might regain some strength. That turns out to not be the case. She is almost incoherent now. Mumbling frequently in her sleep to some unknown entity, restless, and yet semi-comatose at the same time. Her pallor is gray and ghostlike. What keeps her hanging on I don’t know, but knowing her demeanor, probably just sheer will. She’s a feisty old broad, always has been, with a will and determination that defies even God it seems.

She’s saved. She’s a Christian. Her home will be with God, but this death is her last final struggle at who, exactly, is in control of her life. She hollers out “no” quite frequently, yelling at the spirits calling her name. She’s mad. Mad at God, life, and all those who abandoned her, hurt her, and abused her throughout her tumultuous life. She’s mad at God for reducing her to this shell of a being, this weak and totally dependent creature. She, the one who fought for independence in everything she’s done is totally dependent on me to provide her nourishment and more. Her dignity has been stripped away like a band-aid on a scabby wound.

I pray for her soul. I pray that she finds peace. I pray that she can come to terms with God and go swiftly.

It’s my birthday and I’m praying that my mother dies today.