A Season of Change

Seasons...it's one of the reasons I live where I do.  I get to experience the crisp colors of fall (my favorite), the freezing snow of winter, the rainy newness of spring, and the sweltering heat of summer. 

Well, I'm entering a new season here.  And it's not one I enjoy.  It's a season of growth.  Of growing up.  Of changes, fears, and hopes.  It's the acknowledgement that my parents are getting older.  Their bodies are made in the image of God, but they are human. No, they're not dying.  But they're aging to the point I have to notice.

My mom has been sick and in the hospital.  Her ailments are private and for her to share only.  But let me say, it has been taxing.  It has been hard on her body, mind, and spirit.  It has been anguish for her family to see. 

As I might have mentioned before, I am the baby of the family.  My sisters and brother were annoyed because they thought I got away with everything.  My nieces and nephews were close in age and grew tired of me being spoiled.  And I was.  I'll admit it.  My parents made my life wonderful.  Regardless of finances or family situations, I never had to worry about my next meal (My mom is a great cook...and I'm proof!).  I never had to worry about hearing them bicker or worry.  They kept that between themselves.  They raised me to be proud of who I was.  To never let my mouth say something I couldn't back up.  They had nearly perfected parenting by the time they got to me.  Goodness, I never even knew what political party they were because they wanted to raise me to be an independent thinker and formulate my own opinions.

Due to my idyllic upbringing, I tended to be an ostrich when it came to their illnesses and worries.  My dad had open heart surgery several years back, and honestly, I cannot tell you a lot of details about it because I don't know them.  I didn't want to know them.  I liked living in my perfect world.  And he made it through, so my world continued on.  My heart hurts when I think about how much I missed out on by hiding my head in the sand.  

Well, with my mom sick now, I've had to grow up.  I have had to be an adult.  Yes, it's time, but it's hard.  Seriously hard.  I had to stand up to a doctor (with my sister alongside me).  Worse yet, I had to stand up to my mother.  I had to see the pain in her eyes when I told her I disagreed with her.  Hurtful words were said in and among my family.  It broke my heart.  It rocked me to the core.

There is still some of that little girl in me though.  This past week, every time I would go to pray, the words weren't there.  It was like, I couldn't acknowledge that this was pretty serious.  My mom and dad are my own personal superheroes sent by God.  However, with the title of hero comes some pretty unrealistic expectations that we put on them.  See, my parents aren't supposed to get sick.  EVER.  And if they do, it should just be a cold.  Because a hero cannot be down for long.  They have crime to fight and a world to save.  I would sit there and look at God (through my prayers) and be at a loss.  I couldn't pray.  I mean, it was my mom, right?  She would bounce back.  She always does. 

I would ask for prayers everywhere.  I'd ask my co-teachers to pray, my friends on FB, my small group, my husband, my daughters.  But for some reason, I just could not pray.  Want the truth?  I think it was because if I was honest enough with God that my mom was really sick than I would have to realize that myself.  And I didn't want to.  I wanted to go back to being an ostrich.  It just isn't fair!  My girls are young.  She and dad have already had the opportunity to spoil their other grandchildren, and now great grandchildren.  It was MY turn.  MY girls deserve the time too!  What if we adopt again?  They should know their Granny!  Selfish?  Yes, but I'm being real here.

So here I am in this season of life.  The season of reality where I begin to understand my superheros aren't immortal.  They have weaknesses.  They feel pain and hurt. 

Yes, God already knows.  He is just waiting for me to give it to Him.  I am His daughter as well, and I know He doesn't want to see me in pain.  But, oh the pain.

He and I will be having a long talk.  I'll crawl in His lap and rest my head against His chest.  I'll ask Him for more time.  More love.  More memories.  I'll ask Him for strength and wisdom to do what's right. 

Some days I still want to be an ostrich.  But now it's time to step up and be more.  It's my turn to be a superhero...a superhero for my parents.  They have taught me well.