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| [Mom and Dad, with brother, Neil, 1942] |
After each of my parents died, if I
had to use only one word to describe my feelings, it would be guilt about my Father [Posts 8/12/15 and
8/25/15], and anger at my Mother
[9/11/15]. As I wrote in those posts, it
took years for me to deal with and be healed of those emotions, because first
they had to be brought from the unconscious to consciousness.
However, sometimes there is a
shortcut, one that is spiritual rather than psychological. It is provided by God’s Spirit.
I believe God tries to bring us
healing by using dreams and increasing consciousness (which can come through
prayerful reflection and/or the insights of others) to move us toward greater wholeness. However, sometimes God's Spirit moves us toward healing even when we are still operating mainly unconsciously. This happened with my Mother, long before I fully
understood the reasons for my anger at her, or the guilt I felt about avoiding
being with my Father in the last weeks of his life as he was dying. Part of that guilt was not only because I was
not with Dad when he died, but because I also felt like I had not adequately
said goodbye to him.
Mom was diagnosed with cancer about
a year and a half after Dad died, when I was 16 and my younger brother, Alan, 14. She
was treated for awhile at the hospital in our little home town of Maddock,
North Dakota. But eventually she had to
be moved to St. Luke’s Hospital in Fargo, which is 200 miles from Maddock. My older brother, Neil, took leave from his
work and stayed in a hotel near the hospital.
Various folks from Maddock would give Alan and me rides
to Fargo so we could visit Mom.
Eventually Neil called us to say
Mom was nearing death. This time it was
our pastor, Elmo Anderson, who took us to Fargo. Mom was so weak by then that we all had to
wear gowns and masks when we went in to see her.
One of the things I have noticed
over my many years of making visits to hospitals is that when folks are anxious
and fearful, they tend to jabber. A
person can be dying right before their eyes, and folks will talk about the
weather and whether the Twins won the baseball game last night. That is why I take the family outside of the
hospital room and instruct them: I suggest that each of you go into the room alone, and talk to your father, mother, etc.
alone. Do two things. Ask for forgiveness for anything that bothers
you, and then tell them how much you appreciate their love and how much you
love them.
Back to my Mother. I stood off to the side, focused strictly on
her. I have no idea what everyone else
was talking about, but I noticed she kept trying to raise her arm, which she
could barely do, as weak as she was. I
could not figure out what she wanted or was trying to say. Finally I noticed that the sun was
shining directly into her eyes. I said,
“Mom, do you want me to pull the window shade down?” She smiled, and I went ahead and pulled it
down.
Finally
Pastor Elmo took out his bible and led us in a devotion and prayer. Then everyone, including me, left the
room. As we entered the hallway and everyone
began to take off their gowns and masks, I left mine on, told everyone to go on
ahead, and explained that I would be along shortly.
I went back into Mom’s room and
this time went right up to her bed.
She looked at me with such love,
and the tears began to well up in my eyes.
“Mom,” I said, “I’m sorry I have to wear this mask because I really want
to kiss you. But I want you to know how
much I love you and how much I appreciate all the things you have done for me.”
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in
our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit
intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” [Romans 8:26]
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