This morning I was taking a shower and I thought of my Mom. Lately I’ve thought of her a lot. I thought “my poor Mom,” because at the end of her life my sister dumped her in a nursing home and didn’t treat her as well as I would have liked. However, I can’t judge 100% on this because I wasn’t there. My sister and her husband refused to allow me to be there . So I DO know my sister kept my inheritance and my mother from me. I was never told where my mother was so I could see her or talk to her for the last five years of her life.
Wait! That is not this blog, it belongs in another blog (maybe someday). So I was feeling sorry for my mother and then I had an epiphany. Why wasn’t I feeling sorry for myself? I remember one time I skipped school and Mom called me at home to let me know I’d been busted. So I took the 1″ thick wood paddle that Daddy had made to “spank” us with and threw it out the window (there was no screen) into the bushes beneath the window. Mom got the broomstick and started poking me with it and forced me to confess where the paddle was. So then she forced me to crawl into the holly bush (shall I say prickly leaves), all the while poking me with the broomstick saying “get down on your knees and crawl like the dog you are.” Then when I retrieved the paddle that was used on me.
Or the time she chased me with a broom, leaving 3 and 4 inch bruises all over my upper body. So the next day she took me to lunch as a way of apologizing. When I met her for lunch she was appalled that I hadn’t covered my bruises (it was hot and sticky summer and I had to walk to meet her). I asked her why should I, I had nothing to hide.
I can go on and on with all the stories. These are just two. Two normal stories in my childhood. So why wasn’t I crying for me? Why weren’t there tears for the little girl? Why was I feeling sorry for my Mom instead of for me?
Then I realized I did feel sorry for me. Every time I take in an abused dog, I am saving me. Every time I help a dog to heal, I am trying to heal myself. That is why I can have such empathy for the poor fur-babies, because they are just furry mini-me’s. So right now, I think I need the prayers of all of you. God is obviously doing a work in me regarding this, or I wouldn’t have had this insight this morning. But, as all healing and growth does, I think it’s going to hurt before it gets better. But Jesus didn’t just go to the cross to save us, but to heal us. So pray for me that I allow Him to work in me. And maybe, just pray that it doesn’t hurt too much.