A New Level of Healing

Yesterday was a really hard day for me (well and for Mom, too). On Wednesday she had a good day which I tried to replicate - it didn't work. The combination that was successful began with a good breakfast with Dad at 10:30 and then enough activity to keep her alert and awake until they went to bed at 9pm. They both slept really well and that only served to confirm my suspicion that she tends to get her days and nights mixed up. After breakfast on Wednesday, we did some reading and then Gisela came so I could watch her while my father-in-law had lunch with former colleagues from the bank. I think Mom enjoyed having her there and getting to be a help. After Gisela left, we hurried out the door to Dad's appointment with a urologist and then the audiologist (we have so many "ologists"....cardiologist, neurologist, proctologist, dermatologist....). The news from the urologist is potentially not so good - there is a possibility of bladder cancer from his radiation treatment of 12 years ago. We have a follow up appointment to check further in a couple of weeks and on Tuesday we'll have his PSA checked again. The audiologist was a much better appointment: we got his good hearing aid back and the levels on both were turned up so I'm happy to say that Dad is hearing much better!

So back to Mom...after all that excitement, we came back home and they had a nice evening together before they went to bed at 9pm. I got them both to floss their teeth and helped Mom to brush hers (my new assignment after being to the dentist on Monday). So yesterday when she decided to have breakfast with Dad at 10:30, I thought "great...we're into a new pattern!" That turned out to be wrong although I did try to keep her stimulated with reading and sharing with them the talk I'm working on for Saturday. After spending some time together, I went to organize all our bathroom items and she went to sit in her chair. I tried to find something interesting for her to watch but instead she started dozing off and on. At some point in the morning I got a call from her sister Vicki with bad news - their other sister, Cordy, is in the hospital with pnuemonia. I decided to tell her about it and that may be what was really underneath the challenges of the rest of the day. She is now waiting for the other shoe to drop - expecting each phone call to bring the news she's dreading to hear (at least that what she said to me at one point.) The rest of the day she didn't verbalize her concern but she was irritable and miserable to be around. I made the mistake of taking us all to the salon for pedicures because they were way overdue. I say mistake because, while Dad and I enjoyed it, Mom complained the whole time and said to Dad "I hate this place." She claims that the girl who worked on her, tortured her and "you cannot even believe how bad it hurts." I'm sure there must have been some pain but I do know that she said "ouch" even before the girl started trimming her toenails. I've experienced this with her as I've trimmed her fingernails or put on socks or even when I've accidentally bumped her toe while she's in bed. If she thinks she's going to have pain, she reacts very strongly - way out of proportion to the actual event. Of course, I'm not in her body and don't know how she's really feeling so I try to give her lots of grace in those moments. I do know that it makes her not very much fun to care for and it helps me to have compassion for all the caregivers she's maligned over the past year. And it also makes me glad that I'm the one caring for her with all the opportunities to grow in patience and kindness. I'm learning to find my worth, not in her perception of me (and my care) but in the joy that comes from obeying my Heavenly Father.

My deeper level of healing has been to realize that much of my life I've looked to my parents to give me worth and for a number of reasons, it wasn't forthcoming. So I turned to achieving and performing to get their attention and got addicted to that -what a rat trap that hamster wheel became! The past seven years or so, have been about learning to let that all go and discover my worth as a beloved daughter of my Heavenly Father. He is never surprised at my failures, never disappointed with how I turned out and always looks at me through the eyes of love. I don't have to reach some sort of unrealistic standard in order to have His love. And that is why I am a Christian. That is what the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ has done for me and what sets Christianity apart from all other faiths - it is the only one that says "you can't earn love, it is a gift that was bought by the painful suffering and death of an innocent man (Who was mysteriously also God but put aside his "Godness") and who knew you couldn't do this on your own." All other faiths make you work for it and you will always come up short. The problem with Christians today (and really throughout history) is when we forget our hopelessness and try to emulate the effort of other religions. That is why the following poem is so meaningful to me. My prayer is that it touches you as much as it did me the first time I read it (in the bathroom of my dear friend, Martha).

Here it is:
When I say, "I am a Christian,"I'm not shouting, "I am saved."
"I'm whispering, "I was lost"That is why I chose this way.

When I say, "I am a Christian,"I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble -needing God to be my guide.

When I say, "I am a Christian,"I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak and pray for strength to carry on.

When I say, "I am a Christian,"I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed and cannot ever pay the debt.

When I say, "I am a Christian,"I don't think I know it all.
I submit to my confusion asking humbly to be taught.

When I say, "I am a Christian,"I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are all too visible but God believes I'm worth it.

When I say, “I am a Christian,” I still feel the sting of pain
I have my share of heartaches which is why I seek His name.

When I say, “I am a Christian,” I do not wish to judge
I have no authority, I only know I’m loved.

(By Carol S. Wimmer Copyright 1988)

He knows me exactly as I am and loves me just the same. That is why I'm a Christian.