April 23, 2002
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I stare blankly at the comforter, trying hard to remember it’s origin. After thinking about it for around twenty minutes, I finally remember I bought it when I lived next door. I bought the thing about three years ago and it takes me twenty minutes to recall that? Kinda scary. I found the comforter in the attic, where I was merrily hauling stuff-trying to do some spring cleaning. Happily, the comforter matches the new swags I bought for my bedroom windows. I finally found out today that we do, indeed, have electricity in the attic. Over two years ago we had the house rewired. Because of city codes, the electricians disconnected outlets we had on the back porch and in the basement. Shortly after the work was done, I noticed we had no light in the attic. I feared they had also disconnected my attic lighting. I couldn’t reach the light bulb to change it without carrying a ladder to the attic, so I have simply avoided the attic. Today when I was up there, I found a socket I could reach and stuck in a new bulb and presto, there was light. As hard as it is to believe I would ignore a problem for such a long time, I think this is very typical for me. I like to stick my head in the sand and hope all duties and problems will be gone when I look up. Surely someone else will take care of things. Maybe Mr. Clean will visit and tidy up the kitchen and bathrooms. Perhaps Julia Child will pop over and fix us dinner. Or possibly I’ll meet Bob Villa and he’ll ask to marry me. Reality is a sink full of dishes, a house full of dust, errands to run, bills to pay, and a couple of people who are counting on me. There is no husband or wonderful friend who is going to jump in and help. Thus, every time I peek into my life, all the junk is still there, waiting for me. --------------------------------------------- Mom almost always does well at church. Not so this past Sunday. Actually, she did just fine during the service. The scene in the parking lot afterwards was not so tranquil. Lucky for me, I was parked way on the far end of the lot, so we got optimum exposure during our jaunt. I have to hold Mom’s hand or keep my hand on her back in the parking lot because so many people are backing up and she doesn’t know how to look out for her own safety. This normally irritates her a bit, but she deals with it. Somehow I managed to tick her off and she started trying to go the opposite way. I kept gently trying to guide her while she commenced swearing. Of course the lot was filled with people and her yelling and persistence in trying to get away from me was attracting attention. I tried to keep smiling at everyone. Finally we made it to the car and I opened the door for her. She walked past it and tried to leave so I grabbed the back of her jacket. She turned around and put me in a headlock. A woman stood by her car door staring openly at us. I smiled at her and said, “Everything’s okay.” Mom released me and got into the car. I shut the door and walked to the other side while the onlookers wondered which one of us needed help. Later on when it was time to change clothes, Mom did her usual wild animal routine. The increase in Seroquel is not helping in that regard, but she has been generally happy for the past two days. Yesterday she said she liked the music I was playing (gospel/bluegrass) and she also complimented the food. Today she was laughing it up while I was on the phone with Karen. I think I am going to have to accept the fact that there may be no way to make Mom compliant without turning her into a zombie. If those end up being the only choices, I guess I’ll continue to endure her aggression as long as humanly possible. Mom has never been one to bend to another’s will and it’s doubtful she will start now.
1 Samuel 15:23a For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. . |
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