My Mama

I've been putting off writing this post for a week now because I hate to see it in black and white. It is so stark when it is in print. It becomes real to me when I write the words down. And these are words that I don't want to write. I don't want to think these things. My heart is aching. There is no way to really put into words the long long journey I have walked next to my Mom over the past (too many) years. It has been a roller coaster. And not the fun kind that exhilarhates you. No--this is one that you're strapped into kicking and screaming. All you want is to get off. You feel sick. But on it moves, and you with it.

Mom has stopped treatment at the cancer hospital.

Her body can no longer take it.

There is not much more they can do for her.

Her pain is so great, that relieving it has become the focus--no longer trying to treat the problem.

She has returned home now.

Hospice has taken over her care & pain relief.

There I said it. Does that make me brave? I don't feel brave right now. I feel angry. I feel afraid. I feel small. I feel like someone who just needs their Mom to rock her and hold her & tell her everything will be ok.

But the roles have switched.

Now, we take care of her.

And I'm so grateful that I get to be a part of that. I praise God every single day, that in His providence He has allowed my sister & I to move back home, for both of our husbands to get jobs in ministry in the same city (do you know how impossible that would be apart from God??), for the opportunity to love my Mom, to comfort and help my Dad during these very difficult days.

The other day we moved furniture around in Mom & Dad's room to make room for a hospital bed.

And I lost it. I wept the rest of the night. That tangible, visible sign was so telling of where we are now. Things are different this time. There is a different light on now. A new chapter has begun. Is it all full of sorrow & ache?

No.

It's really not. There are moments where the Prince of Peace steps in to the hurt and brings healing balm. He binds up our wounds. He holds our crushed spirits in the palms of His very capable and tender hands. There is something about the valley of the shadow of death that is so peaceful. I think that is where our Savior walks nearest to us. There is such calm there. I am trying so hard to DWELL next to His quiet waters. Some days I'm there.

Others days I step away & I point my fist at Him & I scream at Him from a heart full of turmoil. Why God? Why her? Why me? Why? I have to have an answer.

Sometimes He gives glimpses of the why.

Other times it remains a mystery wrapped up with a bow of grace. He gives grace in our weakness. Did you hear me? In our weakness, He ushers in grace. GRACE. What a sweet sound that is. Amazing, healing grace.

Where would we be without it?

So there it is. In black and white. My Mom is getting worse by the day. My heart is broken. But...my God is bigger than my heart. I can grieve with hope knowing that this world is not my home. This world is not Mom's home. We will spend eternity together--no matter what happens here. Praise the Lord for HOPE!

Please continue to pray for my family. We are desperate in our need for prayer. Grace to you friends.


Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak...

I have become like broken pottery...

But I trust in you, LORD;
I say, “You are my God.”
My times are in your hands...

Praise be to the LORD,
for he showed me the wonders of his love
when I was in a city under siege.

(excerpts from Psalm 31)