Hope

On Sunday, the folks who do adult education class at church decided to have some members get up and share stories of hope from their personal experience. This got me to thinking about what story I would tell, if someone asked me to speak about the manifestation of hope in my life.

The big story would have to be finding my way from the isolation I thought I was going to be in forever to the life I have today, with a loving husband and a new church family. But that's a highly personal story that I imagine most people could not relate to.

But then I thought of this story.

My mother is a very difficult person. She is angry and argumentative. She is anxious most of the time. She is obsessive. She remembers little slights forever. She herself can't say she's sorry.

On the other hand, she can be delightful. She's funny and musical and uninhibited. She feels things deeply. Hence the anger and resentment that linger for years, but also she can feel great joy. She loves with all her heart, so much that she can't really express it.

She and my aunt Carole had not spoken for quite awhile when mom got the news from her other sister that Carole has breast cancer. She told me (because I always hear family news from my mother, it's the way my family works) and I could tell how upset she was, how worried, and how angry and hurt that she had not heard about it from Carole herself.

Well, I decided to break the rules and call Carole to talk to her. And this set off a tirade against my mother that I won't soon forget. I couldn't get a word in edgewise. My husband could hear Carole haranguing me on the phone from the other side of the room. When I tried to tell Carole that my mom loved her and was worried about her, she rejected that notion out of hand. The part that really stuck in my mind was her saying: "Your mother's never gonna change. We've been making excuses for her all these years and I'm sick of it!"

She's never gonna change. There's no hope.

I've been where Carole is now in relationship to my mom. There was a time when I was so angry with her I couldn't stand it. When I felt like having her in my life was toxic to me. And it's true that some things will never change. Like the fact that she brought me into the world. She is and will always be my mother. There came a point where I had to ask myself: "do I really want to give up on one of the most important relationships I will ever have in my life?"

The answer was no. So, rather than wait for her to change, I changed.

I let go of some of the expectations I had for her. How I thought she should behave. How I thought a mom was supposed to be. In some ways, I think of her less as a mom today than as a very good, old friend. Someone I can laugh with, and complain about the government with, and enjoy good music with. And the other stuff, well, I try to let that slide. My husband will tell you I'm not always successful. But I try.

Funny thing is, when I changed, she changed. It was like there was a new atmosphere between us that allowed her the freedom to try a new way. She's not nearly so demanding or angry with me. She seems to enjoy our relationship more, and to feel less disappointment with me. There's a level of comfort between us that has not been there since I was a child.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that there is hope for a relationship that is bruised or broken. Fixing things with my mom seemed impossible to me only as long as I insisted that she be the one to change. When I acknowledged the value of our relationship and my own role in the brokenness, and took it on myself to do things differently, things did indeed change - for both of us.