Mama, as she ages and dementia breaks down her memory and her filters, continues to be caring and considerate of everyone. Her loving heart remains intact. Even so, Mama bursts out at least once a day, “I hope she doesn’t come to play cards. I don’t like her. I don’t know why. I just don’t like her.”
Come time to pay cards; Mama will offer to be Hope’s partner. Mama will offer Hope a pillow for her back. Mama does not tell Hope there is a better way to play a wild card. Mama will say nothing rather than offer an angry retort. Alone again, Mama will ask me, “Was I loving?” It obviously took effort.
From time to time we all have people, whether we remember their names or not, that inexplicably raise our ire. They ruin our perfect day when they walk through the door. They don’t have to do or say anything to make us uncomfortable, cranky, even angry. The very fact they breathe the same air I do is enough for me to wish they didn’t exist.
I remember Mama would sometimes say, “You don’t have to like them, you just have to love them.” How do we love with or without liking? By being kind and thoughtful. Learning to practice peace and justice. By setting aside self and living with an attitude of generosity.
And in the end, we may still not like her, but our hearts will be expanded, changed, warmed, and emptied so that we can sow pardon, union, faith, joy, light, understanding. We can choose rather than feel. We can learn to love.
“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”And Jesus replied to him, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment.The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself [that is, unselfishly seek the best or higher good for others].’The whole Law and the [writings of the] Prophets depend on these two commandments.”
Some days, no matter how bright the sun, or cheerful the breeze, I feel weighed down by a darkness within. There is no escape, no place of refuge, only a deep, hopeless chasm in which I cannot even rest. The pain seems more than I can bear. The joy stripped from within. Paralyzed, I cannot move. Blind, I cannot see. Deaf, I cannot hear. I find only the silence.
Domine Jesu Christe, you knew the darkness, the chaos before there was time. You breathed a Word, and there was light and calm. You move gently into my emptiness and lift me above the pain. In you, I live and move and have my being. You find me in the silence. You give voice to my grief. In the depths of despair, you breathe hope.
“But the LORD is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him.” (Habakkuk 2:20)
“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15)
Psalm 56:3 Whenever I am afraid I will put my trust in thee.
Mister Rogers’ mother told him: "Whenever you see something bad is happening watch for the helpers."
On March 30, 2002, a firefighter searching for victims of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center in New York, discovered a burnt Bible fused to a piece of steel. The barely legible top page is open to the Sermon on the Mount fromMatthew 5, where Jesus speaks of “an eye for an eye” followed by “resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other."
My sister sent me the lyrics to the song "These Are the Women We Come From." It made me cry as I thought of my mother who is 88 and struggling from day to day. I never hear the pain or fear when I talk to her on the phone. Occasionally I see it when I go to stay with her.
I, too, struggle to be strong, to look beyond my pain. I try to be present in every moment, but find it easy to slip down and want to give in and give up. Then I read Psalm 136 and am reminded "His love endures forever." I read Psalm 91 and remember: because I love God, He will rescue me. Because I acknowledge His name, he will protect me. When I call upon Him, and He will answer me, He will be with me in trouble.
Paul reminds Timothy (2 Timothy 1:5) that the faith that lives in him first lived in his grandmother, Lois, and his mother, Eunice.
When pain is the definer of life and living, it is so easy to sink. The energy required for life is limited by the challenges I face. I need to find balance among the requirements of family, faith, function, and fun. It used to be simple to incorporate all four at the same time and bounce quickly from one to the other. Today, I have to choose, and I hate it. In not choosing, I choose. In choosing, I may miss the important people and moments of a day. This amount of focus creates the slide into the "slough of despond." (John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress)
If I am focused on myself, things slip by. I don't look ahead, nor am I present in the moment. I whine (more than my allotted two minutes per day). I cannot help others in my need to be still. I can read, but I will not remember what I read. I become so aware of everything that increases my pain; I forget there are things other than drugs that can decrease it.
I found an easier way. Decrease the number of choices to two: inward or outward. Inward seems focused on self. Outward seems focused on others. But in reality, it can be the other way around. Whether mental, physical, spiritual, whether work or play, I know how much energy will be required. I see what I can delegate and what I must do myself. I find that when I push, I must pay the piper.
Jesus, in his life of chronic pain, used inward and outward focus on balancing his days. He withdrew to the desert, to the mountaintop, to the water to be alone, to pray early in the morning and late in the day. Outward focus on his relationship with the Father and on those to whom Jesus and his disciples would touch. Then he focused inward drawing on the strength of that time with God to teach, to heal, to minister to others.
Thank you, Faith and Georgia, for reminding me this week of the power of looking outward in prayer and inward in finding strength to minister to others. I have kept a prayer journal most of my life. I have lists of names on the backs of envelopes, 3"x5" cards, napkins, church bulletins, all stuffed in my bibles. Whatever was handy at the time to record the names and needs to include in my prayers. Stilling my heart, quieting my mind, focusing on the needs of others keeps me on the edge of the abyss.
Some days, when my body requires stillness to battle, I can take the time to read through all the names aloud. Other days when my body requires busyness in battle, the most I can do is place my hand on my lists and know that God knows who most needs my focus. My willingness to conserve to spend or to push and pay becomes a blessing regardless. Either way, inward or outward, I always begin my day putting on the full armor of God so that I can stand fearlessly. (Ephesians 6:10-17)
Somewhere along the line, someone – probably several someones – since I am a bit of a slow learner – I discovered the power of using God's words, straight from scripture to frame my prayers, to bind Satan, to prepare myself to be emptied and poured out for others. One day at an inter-squadron baseball game, the wife of one of my husband's commanders shared with me the prayer she prayed daily for her children.
This prayer, I pray daily for all my children home-grown and accumulated, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, cousins, in-laws, nieces, and nephews. . . I use these words to pray for friends and friends of friends, for allies and foes. Because this was first the apostle Paul's words of prayer for the church in Ephesus, I know it meets Christ's qualifications for agreement. "Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven." (Matthew 18:19) I use these words to pray for you.
"For this reason, I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through the Holy Spirit in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. And pray you will know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to the One who can do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to the power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
Faith and Georgia, and all those who feel called to pray for me, I like Paul ask only for prayer "that whenever I open my mouth [or take up my pen] words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel." (Ephesians 6:19).
