These past three weeks have been strange and unfamiliar, as I trip over my discomfort from watching my Mother recover from surgery. She's the strongest, most sensible among us, and I have felt grossly inadequate trying to care for her recently.
Not that she needed much: lifting a jug of milk here, a laundry basket there, but still. My heart aches when she goes to rest; she runs on duracell most days, and napping is not on her schedule.
John Mayer is no great philosopher, but I've thought often of his song lyrics that talk about watching his parents grow old, and how he himself is "only good at being young."
It's an honor to be able to help out in even small ways. And, more than ever, it cements my contentment in making the decision to move back home.
This is where I'm needed, and where I want to be.
Be well.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Stalking a Saint
I've recently watched a beautifully-produced documentary on the life of Mother Theresa, and am now searching out every morsel of wisdom she left behind on this Earth. I've brought home stacks of books on her life, just trying to soak up and learn from her compassion for the poor, the sick, the aged, the lonely.
I try so hard, every day, to be tender-hearted, to practice selfless listening, to offer a smile and comfort to those who need it. Some days, though, IT IS JUST SO HARD to be nice continuously.
And on the days when my own heart is heavy, when my bones are tired, when my stomach growls, when my head hurts, people still need help. They, understandably, want to lay their problems down, and expect me to pay in full the $800 light bill, the bus ticket to New York, the seconds and thirds and fourths of iced tea. The needs (and demands?) do not stop: not for holidays, not for weekends, not for anything. It is relentless, and it is every day. Only the faces of the people change. The needs do not.
That is why I am so hopeful that the more I read of Mother Theresa, that I might learn more about the divine encouragement that motivated her to give her entire life to others.
As today is Good Friday and we head into the fulfilled promise of Easter Sunday, I know in my heart what Mother Theresa would say of her many kindnesses shared with others. She did it for Jesus.
I'm no saint, but I do know we can learn from her example. As I saw on a card recently, sometimes real courage is just saying, "I will try again tomorrow."
And that is what I will do.
Be well.
I try so hard, every day, to be tender-hearted, to practice selfless listening, to offer a smile and comfort to those who need it. Some days, though, IT IS JUST SO HARD to be nice continuously.
And on the days when my own heart is heavy, when my bones are tired, when my stomach growls, when my head hurts, people still need help. They, understandably, want to lay their problems down, and expect me to pay in full the $800 light bill, the bus ticket to New York, the seconds and thirds and fourths of iced tea. The needs (and demands?) do not stop: not for holidays, not for weekends, not for anything. It is relentless, and it is every day. Only the faces of the people change. The needs do not.
That is why I am so hopeful that the more I read of Mother Theresa, that I might learn more about the divine encouragement that motivated her to give her entire life to others.
As today is Good Friday and we head into the fulfilled promise of Easter Sunday, I know in my heart what Mother Theresa would say of her many kindnesses shared with others. She did it for Jesus.
I'm no saint, but I do know we can learn from her example. As I saw on a card recently, sometimes real courage is just saying, "I will try again tomorrow."
And that is what I will do.
Be well.
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