Night Blessings

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Are you currently the primary caregiver for a parent or other loved one? Would you like a safe place to go for prayer or just to vent? I’ve recently started a “Catholic Caregivers” site on Facebook … It’s a closed group, but you are welcome to join!

These last few days have been sad ones for Mom. Lots of tears and confusion. She keeps writing and writing, but it only increases her frustration. She doesn’t know how to explain the conflict within her, and she is fighting a battle against accusers none of us can see, let alone help her to resist.

Last night as I tucked her I could see that she was on the edge of tears, and I wanted so much to be able to ease her mind. So I laid down beside her and sang to her some of the songs she sang to me as a little girl. As she grew calm, I decided to try a little ritual that I adapted from something that I experienced for the first time as I prepared to become Catholic, when my sponsor blessed each part of my body in preparation for the journey ahead of me — into the Church.

Now, my mother is a lifelong evangelical Christian, but she is familiar with the little rituals of Catholic prayer, and I hoped that this would help to comfort her. So I made the sign of the cross on her forehead, and said, “I bless my mother’s mind. All her life her brain stored songs and stories and wisdom that she shared with her daughters. Now there are snarls and worn places that are hurting her. Please heal her mind, Lord Jesus.”

Then I blessed her eyes and said, “I bless her eyes. She looked out at the world and saw God’s beauty, and looked at me and saw God at work in my life. Please help her to see that she is a beloved daughter of God.”

Then I went on blessing the other parts of her body, ending with the feet. “I bless her feet, shod with the Gospel of peace. She traveled all over the country to take care of her family, and never complained. Please ready her feet for that final journey, that she would walk with you always.”

Mom didn’t say anything as I left, but kissed me back as I bent down to say goodnight. I think the darkness has closed in around her, and I’m not sure she can hear truth from my lips right now. But I know her angels are taking those blessings to Jesus. And I believe that he will be able to reach where I cannot.

Today the chaplain at her daycare asked us all to come in so he could give mom a “certificate of innocence.” He told mom that he knew she was worried that someone was wanting to bring her to court over something that had happened years ago. He had checked, and everyone has agreed that she has done nothing deserving of standing trial. So he was giving her the certificate to remind her that she is not guilty of any criminal wrongdoing. It’s a tangible reminder that she is where she belongs.

I don’t know if either of these things are going to have the desired effect. When you are dealing with a dementia patient, so much is happening beneath the surface that he or she may never be able to articulate, let alone resolve.

But God is merciful. And he loves his children — even the weak and confused ones. For the weakness and confusion is temporary. Shadows of the glory to come.

 

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A Mother’s Faith

This morning at 3:00 I woke up, angry. I stared at the ceiling, railing over circumstances beyond my control. Over a justice system in which there is no justice for those who need it most. Over the helplessness of being unable to protect or defend a twelve-year-old boy from the powers that be. I wonder, Blessed Mother . . . Is this how it felt for you to stand beneath the cross?

My stomach was in knots. I got up and went to the dining hall for a cup of tea. Then I vented in an angry email to my dear husband. That didn’t make me feel better, so I went back to bed and punched a pillow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I didn’t know my roommate, apart that she was an elderly woman who has a healing ministry. “I’m good at listening,” she said.

She was right. She listened. And passed me a tissue. And listened some more. And asked if she could pray. And then, she spoke, gently and calmly.

First, she stood against the powers of anger and fear and helplessness. That last one really got me … for that is what had me in its grip. Then she asked the Blessed Mother to wrap my son in her mantle, so he would feel his mother’s love and protection. And she asked Michael to ward off the evil forces that are tormenting him.

In that moment, I felt the anger melt away, and my heart grow light.

“Talk to him now,” she said. “Talk to your son. Even though you are not biologically related, you are connected to him spiritually in a powerful way, and your angel speaks to his angel. He can feel you with him, and he can receive message in his spirit from you. Speak to him now — I’ll leave you in peace.”

And so I did. I spoke to him, heart to heart, in the privacy of that room. I realized, in that moment, that part of what I was feeling was undoubtedly Christopher’s pain and fear and anger. Ginny affirmed this. “And when you feel those things, ask the Blessed Mother to take them to her Son . . . and to transform them into love and peace, to send back to your son. God chose you as the mother of those children. He has given you everything you need to take care of them. All you have to do is ask.”

And so, on this first day in the Year of Faith, I held out my hand . . . and asked for the miracle I needed.

What miracle do you need today?