A Moment of Understanding

How could I care for a mother who never cared for me?

- DELORES LIESNER

The whole four-hour drive north from my home in Wisconsin to the town where my mother lived in Upper Michigan, I tried to quell my rising sense of dread. I was glad I had not come alone, that I had my good friend and prayer partner, Marge, with me. Even so, the closer I got to Mom’s, the more I trembled.

I was 62, a happily married mother and grandma, recently retired from my job as secretary to a school principal. My husband, Ken, and I had built a wonderful life and family together. Yet in my mom’s presence, I often reverted to that frightened little girl who could do nothing right, the girl she’d branded a bad seed.

Mom had mental health issues and was unpredictable and abusive, sometimes violent. She had been like that all my life. As an adult, I had kept a safe distance from her and limited our interactions. But three years prior, when the authorities deemed her unable to take care of herself and asked if I could be appointed her guardian, I felt obligated to accept. My siblings and extended family didn’t want to subject themselves to her abuse, and I couldn’t blame them.

Scripture tells us to honor our parents, and I’d thought God was giving me a chance to do that, to have a meaningful reconciliation with my mom. But Mom was furious I had control over her health care and fnances. After a multitude of trips to see to her needs, I had all but given up hope. How could I care for a mother who never cared for me? Why was God asking me to?

Mom was dead set on staying in her ramshackle house. I’d researched and applied for home repair grants for senior citizens. She’d been offered grants to winterize the place and replace the heating and plumbing. But she had repeatedly refused to move to an apartment or motel temporarily so the house could be emptied and the repairs done.