Love in Action (5) From Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power

Welcome to Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power, and welcome back to “Love in Action.” I got to thinking that for those of you who don’t know the drama about me and my mamma, I should probably tell you a VERY short version so you can realize the miracle of it all. I was taken away from my mother and step-father when I was 12 years old because of emotional, physical and sexual abuse. Since then I have not had any sort of meaningful relationship with her; rather, it has been strained to say the least, and definitely interrupted because of her alcoholism and my inability to deal with an alcoholic. So, that being said, it’s now Monday and I’ve just talked with the doctor and nurses who have informed me that mom’s very uncooperative and combative. My son and granddaughter are in the room with her . . .

“Kimberly, they’re trying to kill me; I just had surgery and they are trying to make me get up out of bed.” Is she still drunk? I wondered. The conversation with her was useless. She had turned mean again and I realized within minutes that she was feigning to get her drink on. She complained on and on about this and that until the lady in the other bed spoke up and gave her a what for, almost as if she had taken the words right out of my head. Her name is Lucille, and she’s so sweet. When we had prayed with Mom on Sunday, George had also prayed for her and when we were done, Lucille had thanked him and we wound up going over to her bedside and praying for her again. She was so sweet and appreciative. Anyway, it was obvious that my mom was stuck on angry and delusional, so I wound up leaving an hour later, after speaking with the doctor, nurses and my brother in Washington to let him know what was going on.

To say I was disappointed is an understatement. The only good that came out of that visit was the agreement of the doctors that they would be putting her on some medication for the withdrawal symptoms. Usually they look for tremors and things like that, but Mom was the one causing others to tremor and they finally realized her anger was coming from her lack of and desire for alcohol. On the way home that night, I had another realization: I had spent more time with my biological mother in the last four days than I had since I was twelve years old! I decided to take the next day off, but I did call several times to check on her.

Wednesday, I woke up still feeling very oppressed and wasn’t looking forward to my long day that would end with a visit with her after my job. In my quiet time I cried out for Him to tell me or show me why I was feeling so heavy-hearted. My soul literally hurt.

It wasn’t until a couple hours later that this thought came to me: “Your soul is being scraped.” Ouch! What in my soul needed scraping? I wondered. I received no definite answer. I went for my run and was lead to pray that someone would minister to my mom with music; she loves music. When I came back from my run, there were two messages from the nursing/rehabilitation center. The good news was that mom was definitely less combative, not refusing treatment, but had taken a downward turn in her condition. Her oxygen/hemoglobin levels were dangerously low, as well as her sodium, and she was now anemic. They were transferring her to the hospital.

I called the agency I was working for that day and told her I couldn’t take the job; I needed to be with my mom. Again, a peace came over me and the oppression I had been feeling was lifted. Hmmm, so that was obviously the right thing to do. Guess I wasn’t supposed to try and work, and then see her; I had to prioritize and choose her.

My girlfriend who I had run with offered to take me to the hospital, and then George would meet me there. An hour and a half later, we were on our way and despite the reason for the journey, I was feeling covered by His provision of such a dear friend to take time out of her busy life — she has 5 kids — to drive me all the way to Glendora; and I knew I was protected by His plan, whatever the outcome.

When I found her in bed 20 of the ER, she looked so frail, deathlike even. I went to her and she knew who I was but she was so disoriented. She had refused a blood transfusion which she desperately needed, so I signed for her since she was in and out of lucidity. As a matter of fact, I will give some in her name because I found out we’re the same blood type! Imagine that!

Anyway, I convinced her of the safety of the transfusion, and was sitting there holding her cold and feeble hand when she began to cry. “I know you think I’m mean, but you have to know deep down I love you.” I caught my breath before I responded. “I know you do, Mom.” She continued. “I know I don’t show it very well, but I’ve never been able to express myself very good. The truth be known, I don’t even like myself.” Now, this was getting good. “I know, Mom, that’s why you have a hard time accepting the love from others, but I’m not going anywhere; I’m right here with you and I do love you.”

The RN came in to tell us they were admitting her and checking for a room. I moved over to the other side so they could take the bed pan from underneath her and I began to rub her head and hum “Jesus loves me . . .” and she says: “Kimberly, I’m not dying!” “Mom, it’s one of my favorite songs; I used to sing it to Jeffery.” The next thing I knew and never expected, she began to sing the chorus with me, ever so weakly but she did sing “Jesus loves me.” Yeah, she may have been in and out of lucidity, but I know that what she was saying was coming from down deep in her heart. Those were moments that I wouldn’t have given a hundred depositions for. In fact, I wouldn’t have traded that time with her for any amount of money.

See, my mom is still the same; her mind’s been fermented with all the alcohol abuse, and I don’t know how much drying out it will take, but I’m different. For the first time ever, I was able to actually look at her with true compassionate love without thinking about all the abuse of the past. I was able to see her as He does, without her stuff that’s been holding her in bondage for all these years, without bitterness and even anger for the choices that have stolen time from us, for I am convinced that He is restoring what the locusts have stolen through me loving her unconditionally.

So even though I’m sure she’ll remain difficult because she’s old and set in many of her ways, I am trusting in Him for the miracle of her salvation; anything else will just be extra. So I guess you could say that my soul has been scraped clean and I am now more free to love the unlovable. . .

Thanks so much for allowing me to share this with you and for the accountability of you!


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One Response to “Love in Action (5) From Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power”

  1. Kathy says:

    Hi! I have been so overwhelmed with being the taxi driver for Crystal that I haven’t read your blog all week. I read this today, going backwards and this brought me to tears!! WOW!! God is so good. Loving the unlovable is such a wonderful tool and I am thankful for you. Love, Kathy