When I began the journey of moving my mother into our home, it was with great trepidation. She hadn't been the ideal mother. I'd never felt loved or cared for. She wasn't demonstrative, except for her bouts of anger and resentment, hair-pulling and fists on the back. But she is my mother. The only mother I'll ever have. So, we made plans and moved her here last May.
Over the past months, God has shown me how to forgive and move forward. In the first few weeks, she lashed out and said hateful, hurtful things. I cried. I wrestled with why I could never be good enough to earn her love. She told lies. She tried to create a wedge between my husband and I. But what she knows, and probably is the source of her resentment, is that my husband and I have a bond of love strengthened through our faith. None of her marriages were the kind I have. I know she's jealous. And I know the devil uses that as a weapon. But satan has no place in our house. Finally, I realized that I had to stand up to her and not let her run over me. I had become a martyr. She's changing. A little at at time. Through it all, I've drawn much closer to Jesus, and my faith has grown tremendously. God always has a plan for our lives, and even in the midst of the darkness, He walks with us and promises us a place in heaven if we accept Him as our only Lord and Savior.
Be still and listen, and when God calls, answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment