The Helper's Helper

A big dose of respect is due to my mother. I gripe and moan about my relationship with her on here, to my friends, to my sister, to God, to my mom herself, and especially in my head so much that it's really getting difficult to see all of her many good qualities.

All the ways I feel she's holding me back from growing--I'm doing the same to her.
All those times I wince at another back-handed comment she makes--I throw just as many at her.

There's really no room for me to judge anyway, but there's especially no room when I've still got this plank stuck in my eye.

So I wanted to share this as well as mark it for my own records. At church last night, my mom's mom came up to her and told her how much Charlotte (my mother's aunt) was raving over how great my mother was taking care of mom's grandmother. See, my great-grandma was taken to the hospital two Fridays ago with intestinal problems. Turned out she had a blockage as a result of a UTI she had just gotten treated, and it was all pretty intense and scary since my great-grandmother is so old. She's doing well currently, but since most of my great-grandmother's sisters died from intestinal issues, we're never gonna feel like she's out of the water. From the first incident of my great-grandma being taken to the hospital, my mom was all over spending nights with her in the hospital and being the one to finally take her home and stay with her at home to make sure she was still eating and having to take her back to the hospital when grandma started throwing up again and staying with her another night in the hospital. My great-grandma had 6 kids (5 still alive) and now has numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There were a lot of people who could have been taking care of this woman, but the one who jumped on the ball and helped her get up and down and even helped her in... unmentionable ways, was just one of her many grandchildren, and that was my mom. My mother has always been the ultimate servant. She feels no other need greater than the need to help. I can think back to being a child and mom would take us to the homes of some really destitute folks. It would sometimes make me feel uncomfortable, but now that I look back, I know my mom was trying to help them however she could. A homeless woman slept on our couch one night. All the memories are hazy because I was so young, so I really can't even measure the lengths my mom has reached out. She's really a much more amazing servant of Christ than I can recognize and give her credit for.

I was in tears with her last night over how many issues I've constructed between us that don't have to be there, and she was trying so hard to be understanding and help me through them. She really does love me too much to watch me suffer, and by her greatest calling, she just wants to help.