After I turned 13, I don't remember giving my mom much grace. I didn't even understand what the word meant, let alone wanting to. Years went by. Anger and resentment grew. All my thoughts were of myself and the pain she caused me. I never took a moment to think about her life and feelings because I didn't want to. All that I knew was that my mother never loved me the way I needed or wanted her too. It turns out that I was right, she didn't. I wanted her to change. I wanted her to say she was sorry. She never did. So I took it upon myself to forgive her. It was a ponderous chain of events that I had to forgive, and it was never ending. Always more heartache, always a new situation to work through. It was exhausting.
When my mother and father were diagnosed HIV positive, I thought things would improve. At times they got worse. I tried in every way I knew possible to love and please her, and each time I never felt that she could accept my love fully. There were moments of laughter, the words "I love you" were spoken; but sometimes they never felt quite right to me. I wanted more. It was easy with my dad. He was more like me, I thought he loved me more. I rationalized it all the time in my mind. I had nothing to forgive him for, because he "did the best he could". He had such a horrendous life growing up , and it was so hard to live with my mother. I crafted a special place of honor for my father. I had more than enough love, grace and understanding for him. I knew exactly what grace was, how much I needed it everyday with my family and friends, but did I think to give any to my mom in the midst our relationship?
When my mother and father were diagnosed HIV positive, I thought things would improve. At times they got worse. I tried in every way I knew possible to love and please her, and each time I never felt that she could accept my love fully. There were moments of laughter, the words "I love you" were spoken; but sometimes they never felt quite right to me. I wanted more. It was easy with my dad. He was more like me, I thought he loved me more. I rationalized it all the time in my mind. I had nothing to forgive him for, because he "did the best he could". He had such a horrendous life growing up , and it was so hard to live with my mother. I crafted a special place of honor for my father. I had more than enough love, grace and understanding for him. I knew exactly what grace was, how much I needed it everyday with my family and friends, but did I think to give any to my mom in the midst our relationship?
Today would have been my mom's 71st birthday. In the last 6 months of her life. I learned a lot. I had known the truth about her life for 10 years. She never wanted to talk about it. I wanted to talk about it. I prayed that God would open a door for us to be honest and open, for her to be able to pour out her heart to me. I wanted everything to go my way, if only we could talk, she would love me more. My most wonderful memory of my mom happened on her birthday 2 years ago. John and I went up and took her to Apple Hill, where some of our best memories were created as a family. It was a beautiful day, and we ordered our traditional hot apple cider and apple fritter. I bought her donuts to take home for the week. She wanted to buy a beautiful blouse, but felt it cost too much. We talked her into buying that blouse, an amazing accomplishment for me. We talked about cutting down our Christmas trees and laughed about the boys running all over the forest when they little and how great they are still. As we left, a group of the friends she had made over the past year found us in the store. My mom seemed so proud as she introduced me to her friends and they all told me how wonderful my mom was. They were all happy to meet "Lucy's Daughter". As we left that day, grace began to grow in my heart. I am thankful for the last 6 months of her life as I found a way to live in peace with her. Grace. I loved my mom, but forgive me for the grace I never gave her. As I sorted through her things, I realized she lived through a miserable childhood in a toxic religious environment without the love of Christ in her home, but she still held her faith through all of it. She married the man of her dreams only to learn that her dreams rarely came true. She had the gifts to be a fashion designer, but had to give it up to support her parents when her father had a stroke. I know now the dream I had of her several months ago (see blog post in April) was very revealing. She loved her family and friends, even though deep and nurturing love was foreign to her, leaving her unable to love in a healthy way. She kept the secrets in her heart until she died, leaving behind only bits and pieces of a painful and persevering life. I still wish we could have had that conversation, but she just couldn't. I believe it was just too painful. I am so sorry for the pain she experienced and held so deeply in her heart. Honesty would have given us a fair chance. Now I can give her real grace. I give her praise for reading me Bible stories as a child, encouraging me to continue going to worship even when she chose not to, teaching me how to make a delicious pie crust, and taking me to movies and playing cards with me because she never could. She protected me from family memebers who had done evil to her. I also give praise to God for helping me understand that giving forgiveness and grace is the best way to live. I believe it is the only way to be whole. In many ways I was selfish. In many ways I was deeply damaged and hurt. That is true for so many of us. By the grace of God given to me, He asks me to give her the fullest measure of grace, and there I will find peace. I am so grateful to Jesus the Christ who has healed us both.
