Mothers’ Day Healing..
From the The Healing Place (a continuation)
I need to write this. I have been unable to write today because this is all that I can think about. My heart is aching and perhaps writing this will help. I recently posted about my eldest daughter. She is so very lost. A drug addict who will do anything for what she needs. In The Healing Place, I spoke about the journey, watching her helplessly as she spiralled downwards and how terrible it was to be so incapable to make her change her choices.
I had a busy weekend (hence no posts), however yesterday, being Mother’s Day, I reposted a poem that I wrote for my mom in my teens, just because she keeps it framed on her dresser and that means a lot to me.
My beloved took me out for breakfast as we did a bit of last-minute shopping for his birthday, which was also yesterday. As we were driving home, he startled me saying “there’s your daughter! I just saw your daughter”. He pulled over, I stuck my head out the window and saw a remnant of the person that she used to be staggering along the street towards us.
She saw the car and started to cry out “help me, please help me!” She hadn’t recognized me or the car. When she finally did, she ran to us saying “Mommy, mommy.. please help me! I lost my wallet, I need money I lost everything I need help, can you give me $40?”. One run-on string of words begging for money. She remembered at some point that it was Mothers’ Day and said that my gift was in her wallet and she needed “to find it, can you give me, please can you give me $40 I really need it, you don’t understand, I had your gift in there… “
At this point I came to realize that there was no wallet, that it was just about money (seems like it would be obvious, but it wasn’t, to me). It is not easy to see your own child in such a place. We got out of the car and looked for the wallet that wasn’t there.
Not finding it after ten minutes, we offered to drive her home (she does not live with us). “No, no, no.. I just need to find my wallet, please can you just give me the money, look at those earrings I bought you years ago, don’t you know how much I love you? Don’t you know I’d do anything for you?” I knew what she was thinking. I didn’t have any cash on me, so I started to take off my earrings and give them to her. My boyfriend told me not to, that she would just pawn them, but she had already snatched them out of my hand.
She said that she would give them back. I begged her not to pawn them. Seeing that I’d given them to her, my boyfriend pulled $40 out of his wallet and gave it to her and said to please give my earrings back. She grabbed the money saying “thank you, thank you, thank you”, but the earrings remained in her back pocket. We were both stunned. She had given me the earring that I wear every single day as a gift about eight years ago, before she was as bad off as she is now.
Her smell of sweat, rancid clothes that needed washing, oily perspiration from needing a fix, filled the car. She stood outside the car and then took off. He told me to follow her and get my earrings back. He said I’d never see them again.
She rushed over to a store, but even before I had caught up, the store owner was yelling at her to get out. She came back to the car and my boyfriend threatened to call the police. He raised his voice at her, she gave one back. I pleaded, she stood stubbornly.
I prayed to God. “Why, why have I bumped into her like this today, on Mothers’ Day?” “Lord, What is it that You want to show me, teach me, do for her?”
I spoke to her telling her that these are the only things that I have that are a piece of her and that they mean the world to me. She stood stubbornly, but then just gave me the other earring and took off.
She called me several times that evening, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
I had to see. I had to see who she is in truth without any veils of remembering who she was. Without remembering the pain of the beautiful little girl that would shine in every crowd, that spoke so very early, that would give me anything, that would do anything for me.
I can’t believe in the past. I must see the present so that I can pray for who she is, not was. To pray for God has planned for her, instead of what my own hope has been. I only can pray into God’s will for her and nothing else.