October 19, 2002
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Another week has already gone by and once again it’s time for church. Unfortunately, I am beginning to dread going to church. Now I know how my kids felt all those years. Heh. First there has been so much trouble trying to find a church. Now that I’ve found one, my focus is more turned to Mom. Mom likes church, or rather, she likes the singing and the fellowship. When folks come up and say hi, it makes her happy. She doesn’t know they’re strangers. She probably thinks they are old friends. She grabs some of them and hugs them, kisses a few, too. She talks to them. Her words make no sense, so after initially trying to figure out what she is saying, people realize there must be a problem. Everyone is very gracious and friendly at Fellowship. Even so, I must admit to feeling awkward and embarrassed. Mom usually doesn’t look all that great, for one thing. Her hair is washed on Thursdays, so by Sunday it’s usually not totally manageable. Her clothes don’t normally look nice, either. She may even have a spot or stain somewhere. She might have on slacks. Since it takes an act of war to wash her hair or change her clothes, that takes the back burner. I generally am spending all my energy on Sunday mornings to get her to eat her spiked breakfast and somehow get her out the front door. Mom stopped wearing her partial plates and eye glasses months ago. This, of course, doesn’t help her appearance. At any rate, I’m sure we’re a sight for sore eyes as we enter the sanctuary. Imagine us, a fat lady (me), a stinky, unkempt old lady with few teeth, and a teenage boy with earrings. Yep, quite an impressive group. My discomfort isn’t so much over how Mom looks. It’s because I feel like people are wondering why I am not taking better care of her! She seems so sweet and happy there. How would they ever begin to know how aggressively she fights when it’s time to get cleaned up? It almost makes me glad when she makes a scene in the parking lot. At least then some people will see she isn’t always cooperative. All these feelings are real and I can’t deny them. This causes me to feel guilty. My poor mother always fixed herself up so beautifully. She was always clean and neat. She would be appalled to be appearing in public as she does today. Instead of being embarrassed for her, I’m embarrassed for me. Although I certainly feel compassion for her, how often am I feeling pity for myself? Arrg. How enlightening adversity can be. That great light shining into all the parts of me that prefer darkness. How grotesquely ugly is self-centeredness. Perhaps I need to be offered the chance to trade places with my dear mother. How long would I have to ponder over that deal? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- First game of the World Series is tonight. Leah loves, loves, loves the Angels, so I simply must root for them! Sorry Giants. *smile* Go Anaheim! Proverbs 24:10 ¶ If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small.
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