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Mom's Mind January 19, 2009By Brad Lambeth Mother arrived today to stay a week in our home. We are honored, yet, so appalled by her fragile mental state. Her mind and memory hang by a bare thread of primitive sanity. All the other
threads that connected her to early memories are snapped and shredded.
Gone! Forever gone. Now I will never know names of early
Brazilian saints that befriended Mom and Dad when they were isolated
by language and long miles in a foreign country called Brazil.
Never again will I hear of those first revivals as we three walked
down dark muddy paths toward sad villages. Worst of all, it
is my fault. You see, when she was in her right mind I could have
asked her about the little green wood house with a well in the back
yard (my earliest childhood memory). But I didn't, and now
her mind is gone! I miss, oh so
much, those homemade pancakes with maple syrup. And the peanut
butter sandwiches too. Fudge-are you smelling the aroma
of Mom's fudge-made from scratch? No? Well that is because
it is all gone! The viciousness of fading time erased all
those recipes from her mind. That seems so
unfair! Who stole away my mother's cooking? Who took the kitchen
table with flour dusted all around? Time
More than time,
it was the 50 plus years of great missionary work that from its
own merits found a way of planting seeds of mind-destruction.
After years of pressure and pain, the mind can easily be warped
to believe that life's mission is folly. Did not even John
the Baptist (the greatest!) wonder about his own sanity as he awaited
death in a prison cell? Are you the Christ? Did
I live my life in vain? You see, Mother wrings
her hands, everyday, worried that she will be rejected by God because
she did not do enough for Him. Now, it is beyond me to reach
far enough into her mind to reassure her. So, I cry for her.
I cry too in frustration over those unfounded fears of Divine rejection.
I cry for myself as I wonder, am I doing enough for the Lord?
Mind games
Yet, there is
one incident that stands out so bravely to me amidst the foggy landscape
of her mind: Dad was still
alive, barely, when Mom called me to come to the hospital. There
was a strange tone to her voice something was worrisomely different.
I quickly gunned the car toward that familiar destination.
Walking down the medicated hallways of that institution, I turned
the corner and entered the room. There was Dad, belabored
with tubing. Everything seemed OK. The expected emergency
was not to be seen. I turned and
found Mother with my eyes, so lonely, so frail, and sitting in the
old rocking chair. No words were spoken, yet she just patted
the couch for me to sit by her. I sat and silently I waited. She cleared
her throat and still choked on her words. I am losing
my mind she said in a painful way. The silence became
even louder. She said it again I am losing my mind, son.
More pain between us. What could I say? The signs of
that harsh truth were evident over the last few months. But
I was, perhaps, in denial. But she had
something important to tell me. I waited. Finally, she
spoke again with tender love and tears she said: I just wanted
you to know, before my mind is completely gone, that I love you
with all of my heart. You were God's gift to me.
Then, she concluded, No matter what happens, always serve God
with all of your heart. She went silent
again, looked around a little lost and arose to comb Dad's thin
hair. I walked out
with the best part of Mom's mind
© 2009, John
B. Lambeth ---------- John B. Lambeth is a missions-minded Apostolic missionary to the country of Brazil. Uneducated as a child, he started his formal education after adulthood. Today he is a successful attorney. His first love is missionary work, but if you need an attorney, say a prayer and call him. |
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