Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 27 (December 24, 1998)

Papa Jon asked me to write a real "ripper," as he calls those (he so kindly says) powerful or moving pieces of prose that occasionally come from my keyboard. I proposed an article on Christmas giving - not what we give to one another, but what God has given to us in the life and death of Jesus who took upon himself our sins.

I have a problem with this assignment my Angel Friends (yes, editors too receive assignments). I'm not feeling very grateful right now - I'm going to visit my parents for Christmas - a visit that may well be the last one I'll have with my 75-year-old mom.

Mom's had peripheral-neuropathy for several years which, over time, has come to severely limit her ability to get around. She is now totally wheelchair bound. Last year she had cancerous polyps removed from her colon (thankfully no chemotherapy or radiation therapy required).

This summer she suffered multiple mini-strokes. Her ability to speak and, worse, to think and convey her thoughts logically has been severely impaired. Most recently, my mom has been moved into the full-care nursing unit at the retirement center where my parents live, because my 85-year-old dad can no longer provide the amount of care she now requires.

I have three siblings, all of whom live much closer to my parents than do I. No matter, I'm the one who will drive two days and help my dad with her personal things since mom was moved into a nursing unit. I'm coming to dread the trip; my emotions are in the way of everything. (Ask Papa Jon, I've sent him a few not-so-understanding e-mails recently.) Okay, to be honest, my emotions have been a mess about this since early fall.

I was talking to a friend recently about how concern for my mom is so all consuming. He said something which, if I hadn't been so aware of my volatile emotions, I would have considered flippant. I said to him, "I don't know what I'm going to do; I don't know how to do this. I've never had a parent dying before."

In many ways, I'm in a form of pre-grief, or, better, grieving for the mom I never really had as a child but whom I found as an adult and am now losing. Recent experiences have combined with these feelings to touch off a legion of emotions.

For example, I was out of town on assignment early in November; I was a wreck, spending much of the time in my hotel room crying. A dear woman asked me if I was all right after I left a morning session rather precipitously; I bent her ear for 20 minutes.

I ran into a man at the conference whom I hadn't seen in many years. I knew him when I was in high school and he was a seminarian serving my parish. I remembered him by name, which was no easy feat as he was one of many seminarians from those days.

When I told him that, he said something like "let's not go there." I thought he had misunderstood my intentions. When a woman at the conference told me later, he said he remembered me from those days, I was livid and wrote him an angry note.

I believe I remembered him because, during a time when I could not speak of the sexual abuse I had experienced, he was one of those people who had been kind to me; perhaps, something as simple as not mixing me up with my older sister, which many adults seemed to do.

Still shaken and crying, I called a friend here in my home city. I told her I knew I was being unfair to be so angry with my old friend and also that I should never have made the trip because I was so upset about my mom. She said, "Are you sure you're not angry at your mom for not protecting you?" The more I thought about it, the more I thought she was probably right; but the reality is that my mom is not capable of engaging in a conversation that might bring closure to that anger and pain.

You see, last spring, as a result of prayer and reflection, it became clear to me that God wanted me to forgive the unforgivable: to find a way to reconcile in my heart and in fact with the brother who sexually abused me during my teen years.

Recently, however, because of all these tangled emotions, I feel disconnected from the one I love most. I've been involved in a one-on-one relationship with Jesus for nearly 20 years. Jesus, who I describe as my friend-lover-brother-spouse. If I had married, I would most likely feel as detached from my husband as I do from Jesus today. I know he's there, as an understanding man would be, loving me and caring for me and helping me through this - I just can't feel it.

I hope that each of you has a blessed and wonderful Christmas. I hope that each of you has the opportunity to reflect on the gift our God has given to us: Jesus, our savior, who came down from heaven to stand in our place for the forgiveness of our sins. And for those of you who, like me, are looking forward to a less than "Norman Rockwell-ish" holy day, please pray for me, as I will for you, that blessings we cannot now know will come from the pain we now feel. God bless you. Merry Christmas. In His precious love, Judi

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