Now I Know . . .

My heart is broken . . . I've been struggling with why I am here taking care of my mother during her lung cancer treatments. Ours has been a difficult life together and has been so for the past 6 weeks. I have been doing the driving to radiation everyday, to chemo on Tuesdays, following her around every market in town, browsing through WalMart, Target and a thousand other places as she tries to maintain her normal life. I have also been cleaning, taking out the trash, organizing her calendar, phone numbers, papers, and making her meals. At night I take it into her room on a tray where she is in her chair in her pajamas and robe watching the news, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy and then American Idol or other "feature" of the evening. Tonight, when I took her dinner in to her, I had a moment of humanity. My anger for her suddenly disappeared as she looked up at me and smiled genuinely and said thank you. It wasn't any different than other nights except that this time I didn't see my beastly mother, but a frail, tired, helpless person who needed me. It broke my heart and I can't stop crying. It is a deep ache - for her, and the fragility of us all. I have been asking God to show me why I am the daughter who is here. Now I know.

Serious Fun: TrueMajority.org

Serious Fun: TrueMajority.org
Watch the video - note the part about Head Start funding!

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Mr. Picassohead

Mr. Picassohead

NPR : Picasso Works Stolen from Relative's House

NPR : Picasso Works Stolen from Relative's House

Starting Now

Gathering my strength for the journey. Starting the packing tomorrow. Three more days of classroom visits in the Grow Up Great project this week. Hope to stay connected to it until the end of the school year and come back for the time of sharing event.

I'm thinking that the core of me understands what is coming up as a major life change far better than my heart or my brain do. That doesn't seem to make sense, but I can feel the foundation of myself slipping away from underneath me. Darkness. That probably doesn't make sense either, but I can feel it. As much as life in this current household has come to a crossroads and needs desperately to change - there are things I will miss. But it is time. I can't turn back from this road.

Art Supplies

As part of my process in being with Mother as she goes through her treatment, I am bringing some basic art supplies with me. Journal, sketch pad, acrylics, brushes, pencils. This is critical to the process - mine and hers. I will use art as a repository and work space for the emotions and thoughts I will be experiencing for those 6 weeks or more.

It is important that I do not step out of the caretaker role to the 12-year old daughter role. I know things Mother will say and do will be triggers for me to snap back and surrender to the "yes-go-ahead-and-make-me-feel-less-than-perfect" socially cast out 12-year old . My goal is to put those reactions into my art work rather than lashing back at her.