Memories of Mom

Lately, I've been pretty grumpy with the kids, and my oldest daughter in particular. I haven't been sure why, and I've been trying to figure it out. On the way home as I was listening to my ipod, "Because of You, by Kelly Clarkson came on and it hit me. The anniversary of my mom's death is coming in a few weeks. It seems I have been mirroring some of my mother's worst behaviors lately and haven't been conscious of it.

My mom and I had a complicated relationship to say the least. She grew up in an abusive household having to take care of her brothers while her depressed mom hid from her responsibilities. Her father was cold and distant having had to learn to take care of his family at age 13 when his own father killed himself. When she married my father, my mom escaped all of that. She ended up pregnant faster than she expected and began having to take care of her own children before she was ready. Add to that a severely disabled child, one miscarriage, then me and you've got a woman on the edge.

Family lore says that before my disabled brother came along my mom was already a mess. She was depressed and abusive to my brother and sister. Apparently, she ended up in an mental institution where the treatment of the time was electric shock therapy. Combine that with the fact that my dad was a pharmacist and could keep her in meds, and you've got - well - a prescription for a mess.

My oldest brother and sister tell me that the mom I grew up with was different than the one they had. She abused me, just in different ways. My brother understands that - my sister still resents me, although she won't admit it to me. After my dad died, my relationship with my mom got worse. She was on a heinous cocktail of prescription drugs, depressed beyone belief and I was out of control, and responsible for way too much.

Over the years, she had many health scares, threatened suicide, and tried to commit suicide. In fact, she wasn't at my wedding because she had threatened to kill herself and my brother had her committed for observation.

After I moved away and gained some distance, with help and healing from the Lord, I began to rebuild a relationship with her, but it wasn't easy. I was always on my guard with her. She always knew what to say to get me worked up, feeling guilty, etc. I let her push my boundaries. When it came to my children, I tried to encourage a relationship between them, but it was hard because she lived so far away, and I felt so very protective of them.

During the last months of her life, she was finally going to get out of the town that had kept her trapped for so long. After an extended hospital stay - during which she came back from the brink of death -- again -- she entered a rehab facility to continue the healing process. My brother got her an apartment across from his (in another state) so she could be by both of her sons. All of us went to that town one last time to pack up her life into a U-haul to be driven away for good.

My siblings and I had a great time that weekend. Bonding over that experience is something we will never forget. When I talked to her, she was so happy. That was the last time I would talk to her - but I had no idea. A few weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant again and was preparing to call her. My brother left me a message while I was at work that I needed to call right away. The news was so unexpected. While recovering in rehab, she developed an internal bleed and died before anyone knew what was happening. I couldn't believe it. The woman who cheated death so many times and begged God to take her had finally gone to be with Him.

How do I know she's with Him? Because I'm the one that prayed with her many years ago to accept Him. My brother and I prayed with and for her many times over the years.

We learned that over the months before she died, one of our cousins figured out that she was taking medicines that were conflicting with each other and causing severe personality changes. She probably had been for many years since she doctor shopped continually. My brother and I both saw her beginning to change before she died. I still grieve for what was lost when she died. The chance for us to have a real relationship after all of the wasted years inhibited by drugs, mental disorder, and spiritual oppression. But, I rejoice because I know she is with my father, free from the mental and physical disease. Free to rejoice, free to to worship, and free to watch over our family and watch over my children that I have lost until I can join them too.

Caught Unaware

Tonight while I was at church, I was caught unaware by an overwhelming feeling of grief. I realized that I haven't really allowed myself to grieve what happened at our former church this summer.

I posted earlier this summer that our pastors had resigned and this had caused quite a bit of turmoil in the church. Our own lives were personally affected by this as we are friends with both sets of pastors. All of a sudden we were watching our friends leave and not sure why. Over the summer we made numerous attempts to get to the answers, but really, only God knows the whole truth. I feel like we have enough of it to know what we needed to, but the last 4 months have been very difficult.

I had to take on a larger role than I wanted to at church, my husband took on more responsibility as we began trying to decide whether to stay or go. It came down to if we believed the church would be able to continue on mission as we knew it, or if that mission would begin to change. We also watched our friends endure a ridiculous amount of slander from people that didn't even know them. Horrible things were said about them, assumptions were made, and they are trying to recover from the personal damage they endured during all of this too.

We decided that for our family's sake, we would move on to another church. So began the process of looking. That turned out to be harder on one of our children than we imagined. I won't say we've found a new church home, because that's actually a painful thing to say, but we have found a place we are visiting on a regular basis. It's still not "ours" though. We walk through the door relative strangers. I don't know the folks names as I come in the building and we don't have a small group. There are remnants of our former church still meeting as a small group, but I'm not sure how much longer that will continue.

So why the grief? I had memory flashbacks of small group at our pastor's home. The honesty, the care, the laughter. I miss hearing him preach. I miss walking into that building and seeing all of the faces that I grew to love. I almost miss pushing around those big black moving cases from Portable Church. More than anything, I miss the feeling of community. The can-do, we're on mission attitude. I miss having a church in our county that cared about our county and the world around us.

I struggle with why God allowed this to happen. What the bigger plan is. How come we finally found a good place - close to home - that allowed us to serve - and now it's gone for us.What's next? Why were our friends put through this? What possible good is going to come from it? What will happen to those of us that have left that church - will we be able to maintain our community apart from the binding influence of Sunday worship? What about those that have chosen to stay? What will that church look like 6 months from now? 1 year from now?

Good did come from some of what happened this summer. My husband took on more of a leadership role in our home and in the church during the process of the aftermath. I learned that I had grown past my dependence on a person to be my representative for a relationship with Christ. I was strong enough to have one on my own even when the people around me let me down. We did strengthen our relationships with a few other folks from the church - some of which still attend. I know I've grown personally through this process, but it hasn't been easy.

There have been days where I wanted to yell and scream at God and certain people. To release my frustration and disappointment at how they have behaved. When I heard some of the more ridiculous things being said about my friends, I wanted to lash out. If I were younger - I probably would have, but thankfully, I have learned some temperance over time. I am still angry about some things. A good friend told me that it was ok to be angry when she saw me trying to bury it under the pious pretense of not becoming resentful and bitter. She told me to embrace that anger and take it to the Lord because only then could He transform it. She was right - she usually is.

I guess the glimpse I caught tonight means I still have unfinished business to deal with in myself about everything. Just because I left it doesn't mean I've dealt with how I feel. I've just had to stop seeing it week to week. I think it's time to settle into this feeling for a while and learn to make peace with this too.