One-of-a-Kind

It was two years ago that she passed away while I was holding her hand, and I was left alone in her room.  Our life together had come full circle since she was there at my birth, and I was there at her death. Our mother-daughter relationship was far from normal.  She was a kid at heart, and I was an adult at heart. Now I realize this was my coping mechanism. As a child, she made my life fun while at the same time making it difficult.   She did want the best for me and did her best to make it happen. She liked to sew and was quite good at it.  She let me design clothes and then she would make them. She sewed all my clothes until I was about 15.  At that time she started a small bookkeeping business and used her income to buy me clothes from the best department store in our little town so I would fit in.  She was a 'cool mom' on one particular occasion when she snuck me out of the house to go to my junior prom. (Daddy didn't want me dancing.)

Mom led an active life as a homemaker and preacher's wife.  She loved music, sang in the choir, and when needed, led music at church, played the piano, sang in duets or did an occasional solo.  She loved 'teenagers' and even led the youth group in church when needed. I remember how much fun she had working with youth. She also knew her bible and taught Sunday school and many bible studies.  She was a preacher's kid who graduated from Baylor and met my dad while attending Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Mom loved Women's Missionary Union and insisted we pray for missionaries by name every day.  I can remember when she would see the Jehovah's Witness guys coming down the street and go get her specially marked bible with talking points to greet them at the door. She knew what she believed and why she believed it.  She was a force to be reckoned with.

My quick-witted mom was smart, and she loved to fix things.  Shortly before the dementia began stealing her mind, she bought a computer and assembled it from the box by herself then proceeded to teach herself how to use it.  She was the person to go to for repairs. She loved to redecorate but was on a pastor's-wife-budget, so she just constantly sewed curtains, reupholstered and moved furniture.  And that was when we weren't moving the furniture to a new house, trying to make her happy. This was our sign that something was not quite right with mom. I had no idea for 50 years she was dealing with an inner demon of a bipolar disorder. I can remember the hours I spent standing at the Hallmark card counter before Mother's Day trying to find a card I could give her with a straight face and a sincere heart. Many times I had to walk away from the store laughing and crying, wondering how Hallmark made up this stuff.  

In 2010, while she and dad were in the wonderful care of Buckner Baptist Assisted Living in Dallas, she was diagnosed as bipolar.  Finally, all the pieces fell into place. I no longer wondered if everyone else's mom was like this, and they were ok with it.  My lifetime of questions were answered. In 2014, after an episode of mom's bad behavior at her nursing home in Ennis, I was commiserating with her nurse.  The nurse looked at me and said, "You know, your mom didn't make the choice to be bipolar". And from that point on I began to see mom in a new light. She lived silently with a disorder that now would be treated with counseling and medication.

I have come to realize that as much as she may have missed the motherhood mark, she got the  most important thing right: Every time the doors were open, she and dad brought us to church where we learned about a personal relationship with a loving God.  She knew this was the link to the one thing that would hold a person together when all else fails. This was passed on to us, and I am eternally grateful.

In her Bible, shown above, she noted 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.  Next to this she wrote, "spiritual maturity DON'T GIVE UP".

I know now that she had a thorn in her side. I can't imagine the struggles in her life. She silently dealt with this disorder without counseling, understanding or medication. However difficult it was for her, she knew where her strength came from. Just like all of us, God used what she gave him. I look forward to seeing her again without that affliction and I hope she can forgive my lack of understanding for what she was going through.