On this shining night

I've written before of the things that Mummy's disease and my caregiving responsibilities have stolen from me. Music is one. Not the hearing, obviously, but the making of it. Thankfully, there is a YouTube so I can hear beautiful music and I have a pretty good collection of stuff, so the loss is not complete but there is no replacement for MAKING this kind of music en groupe. Sure I sit at my piano and vocalize and sing a few songs but that really isn't the same as working with others to produce something of such incredible beauty.

I've been listening to this particular song, "Sure on this shining night" for two days. The first time I heard it, my gut was in knots. You would think I would stop listening, but of course I haven't. I have listened to these University of Utah Singers' rendition of this Morten Lauridsen setting of the Agee poem so many times now that I know it.  I can't stop listening to it but with each iteration, it hurts less, and the tears retreat a little further. Though listening to it won't make me cry, the loss (of opportunity to do this kind of thing) remains exactly as great and if considered long enough, that could bring me to not just to tears, but to my knees. The sense of loss, unfortunately, isn't retreating nor is it shrinking.  "I weep for wonder, wand'ring far alone". Yeah. I get that.

The beauty of this music, is that it really does soothe the savage breast; it really does make things better and given the challenges of caregiving, isn't that exactly what you need? It's certainly what I need. "Sure on this shining night". Maybe this night isn't quite 'shining', but one day.

In my life there are three things that soothe: music; the weekly pilgrimage to church and my muffin-making. That's pretty much all I've got to keep me going and growing. So share this with me. This wondrous rendition of this glorious setting of an incredible poem. Tell me if it doesn't make you weep or at least, feel something in the pit of your stomach.

I want this sung at my death or at least played in the church and I'm pretty certain that I want to play it for my mother when the time comes. The line "I weep for wonder, wand'ring far alone of shadows on the stars" sounds like the story of my current life and perhaps of hers........

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far
alone
Of shadows on the stars.

The poem comes from a book by James Agee entitled "Permit Me Voyage" published 1934 by Yale University Press

The Thief

During this process of caring for my mother, I have come to realize that not everyone is on your side and not everyone who claims to be supportive is, in fact, so. As it turns out, some who claim to be supportive are only so if you're going the way they would go and doing what they would do. The moment you move off the path they envisage as the 'right' path, you find yourself in deep trouble.

John 10: 10 The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.

This piece of scripture came to me this morning as I was reflecting on a situation unfolding ('unravelling' is probably the better word) in my caregiver universe. During my reflections, I could only wonder why people in the twilights of their own lives would allow themselves to become 'thieves'. Is it a need for control? Is it a need to be included and have their opinions considered? I don't really know, can't say. What I can say is that the outcome of the negative behavior is thievery as it's described in John 10: stealing, killing, destruction.

I haven't said this in a while so I'll say it now: make a plan, insist that your parents make a plan and then talk to the wider family about the plan that has been made and what its execution will entail. If the plan calls for the sale of property, put that out there. If property is to be rented to generate income, put that out there (especially if you have a family member currently living in it rent free! Whoo sah! Don't even get me started on that one!). If there is jointly held property that will have to be sold or the joint relationship severed, put that out there. The last thing you want is for your parent's siblings or your own (!) to be mucking up the works when you're trying to do what you were instructed to do or what you have determined is best for you to do.

I'm pretty sure that my situation is not unusal. The challenges I'm facing are not atypical. When not included in the decision making process, siblings of an ill parent may make their unhappiness known to you. Some siblings may do so in civil and useful ways, others will not. The possibilities are endless.

I attended a funeral once where the sister of the deceased (an elderly lady) was not allowed to share her remembrances of her sister. She did NOT take it well in fact, she made a bit of a stink. In the funeral. So in addition to dealing with the loss of her mother, my friend also had to deal with ugliness with her aunt. Another person I know, mentioned recently in conversation that since the deaths of her parents, she and her siblings have been estranged. My thought at the time was, "Huh. But let something happen to you, my guess is they will come out of the woodwork and want to tell your kids what  they should and should not be doing." I didn't say that out loud of course.

So, I repeat: talk to your people. Create a plan and then make the plan public to interested parties. People will claim disinterest during the planning but once the plan moves to the 'execution' phase, you may start to see heightened interest,  intrusion and perhaps even interference....thievery. You've been warned. Govern yourselves accordingly. Please.

Necessary roughness?

This Creflo Dollar thing is really bugging the crap out of me.  For those who don't know, Dollar is the pastor and founder of an Atlanta mega church. He's feeding his flock a steady diet of prosperity theology which, if nothing else, is prospering him mightily. He seems also to have won their undying support. Few seem willing to question whether anything his daughter reported to the police last weekend merits further scrutiny.

Last weekend, Dollar was arrested after his daughter called the police. There was some sort of confrontation, which, she alleges resulted in him shoving her to the floor, punching her and beating her with a shoe. [This image is particularly troubling to me, the beating with the shoe, as in my country upraised shoes are typically being wielded against invading cockroaches. Makes me wonder if he sees his child as nothing more than a nasty little bug, but I digress.] I know not whether the girl made the entire event up. Let me state that at the outset. What is deeply troubling to me, is this idea which I see so often online, that he has the right to discipline his child in the ways that were described.

It is extremely troubling to me that anyone would think that punching, throwing to the floor and beating with a shoe, are somehow acceptable forms of punishment. "These young people these days! Ya'll don't know!" is pretty much the tone of the responses. Sorry folks, I'm not joining you there. There are ways to discipline that do not involve fists to faces or other forms of physical violence. Even when you're dealing with hormonal teens. I'm quite sure of it.

I have myself seen a little of the dark side of parenting.

While a student at a very posh college in upstate NY in the mid-eighties, I spent several months at my (biological) father's home while he pretended to figure out how he would pay my fees. I lived in a house that was under construction: the kitchen was incomplete; I had no bedroom; the bathroom was incomplete; there were mice and there was no heat. I had no resources of my own and was entirely at his mercy, not unlike most children are.  I was a total shut in. I was an immigrant so I suppose I could have just gone home, but with the hopefulness of youth, I was anticipating a happy outcome and an eventual return to Poughkeepsie. Neither happened.

One of the few 'conversations' we had ended with him bellowing at me, "I don't know what the F@#$ you and your mother want from me!" Not long after that I took to sleeping with a knife under the couch. I won't regale you with the stories of the two doberman pinschers he had housed upstairs, in perpetual fear of whom I lived. Boring stuff. Suffice to say that the story of young Ms. Dollar makes more sense to me than it should and the refusal of onlookers to consider the consequences to her of the behavior she alleges, boggles my mind. My 'abuse' was not physical. My male parent never laid a hand on me. That did not, however, prevent me from being very afraid of him. Justifiably so.

I have no idea what actually occurred in the Dollar household. None of us does. What I do know is that to every parent and onlooker who claims that they are a fan of physical violence against children, I say this: emotional and physical violence do permanent damage. If you were raised in this way, this may be hard to hear since it means that damage was done to you, but that is the truth. The fact that you have successfully overcome it, either by papering it over or by properly healing the broken places, doesn't mean that brokenness did not result from the treatment. Why do you then wish it on your own? The world will find ways to break your children, do you really need to participate?

I fear for the day when the phone will ring and someone will say to me, "Your father needs you." What will I do then? I have no earthly idea. Brutalize your children if you must, but remember that door swings both ways. When the time comes that these abused children become your only link to the world, what then? Will you expect from them that which you were unprepared to dole out?

There is no 'necessary roughness' in child-rearing. Love is not a full contact sport, at least not that kind of contact. If you think it is, or should be, come talk to me. I'll tell you the rest of my story. Maybe.

The longest rope.......

So this friend of Mummy's called last, not to talk to Mummy, but to what? I have no earthly idea. She did manage to piss me off royally by asking me well, something that I won't share. I'm pretty sure that angering me wasn't her intent, but sometimes 'intention' and 'consequence' go in opposite directions. Raise your hand if you know what that's like!

So here's my little epiphany from the experience: there are lines in this caregiver business that people dance blithely over, with impunity. They do so, because we allow it. The first time, it's shame on them. The second, third, fourth and fiftieth times well that's on us. We don't pull them aside and say, "Hear nah (as we say in Trinidad), yuh (you) might want to check yuhself (yourself)."

It really wasn't a big thing. She just wanted to be sure that her friend was in good health. The fact that she was asking me about issues that I (i) haven't begun dealing with yet and (ii) don't wish to discuss with anyone outside my family, is, I suppose, my problem. Still though, more care really should be taken when trying to ascertain how a patient is doing without completely invading the caregiver's privacy or completely disregarding what all else the caregiver might be dealing with - including grief, anger, denial or as in my case, a cup of resentment that I struggle with. I'm trying valiantly not to allow said cup to run over. [A weird Psalm 23 reference if ever you heard one.]

In sum: sometimes folk just need to back up and think twice and twice again before they speak. That includes me. I am a WIP Christian - work in progress Christian - but I am still very much a human being and periodically, things will pop out of my jaw that should really have been taken captive. So it was with our inquisitive friend last night. Something popped out that ought not have.

As we say in Trinidad, even the longest rope has an end. Pushed too far or too hard, there could come a time when I just let myself go and set someone straight. It's been known to happen. Even Jesus blew a gasket a time or two. Let me offer the reminder that I am not perfect and I'm working under some pretty difficult conditions. Folks should govern themselves accordingly. Just sayin'.