vulnerable

yesterday I watched those young actors on Glee act out and experience raw at the same time the grief of their friend, I think what is so moving about their pain, so touching about their vulnerability onscreen and in real life, that their gift of song that expresses their pain is so touchingpain and beauty side by sideseen in the most vulnerable momentsbut on this side of the screen, we mask our hurt and pain, afraid to be exposed, to be vulnerable.we do not hold the pain out in front of us, instead cover it up and move onwhen we are dying insideone of my favorite verses tells ushe gives us beauty for ashesthe oil of joy for mourningthe garment of praise for the spirit of heavinessas I have cared for my mom over the past few yearsI see the most painful moments, the ones that cut me most deeply,are the ones where I am most vulnerable,the ones that expose my emotions most rawthe ugly ones, the hurtful ones, the scared ones, the grieving onesthe following is one of those.............kathy, you who have been caring for your mom for 14 years, I give this to you.....to the others I met at the caregivers conference I give this to you....we may be exposed, raw, naked, but we are not alone....nakednakedeven the word is unsettlingnaked i come from my mothers womb, naked i will departbut now before me, is my mothernaked, helpless,as i was when i came from her bodythe hands and limbs that once bathed me, dressed me, held meare now the ones that i must help bathe and dressbut its too hard to holdthis reversal is too painfultoo vulnerableto see her naked before metoo unsettling,for now i am the one exposedshe is the one depending on mewhen i was a little girli was completely attached to my motheri always needed to know where she wasi needed to sense her presencei cried if she did not come homewhen she said she would be homenow her eyes scan the room for me,watch my movesshe is the one to question,“where are you going?”she asks, “where am I?is this my home?”i tell her no, this is my homeshe says,“i want to go home.”this helplessness, her utter dependence on mephysically and emotionallyleave me feeling helplessbecause without my mother here,who is there for me?who is there to comfort me when i am downor run to when i have exciting newsor sit with a cup of coffee to share my dayeven grown daughters need their mothersshe is heretrapped in this jar of claywith a fading mindbut still a treasured spiritsome days she cries and asks for her mothershe says she wants to go to heri tell she’s not here anymore, she’s been gone a very long timeshe looks at me with crestfallen facetrying to rememberthen recollecting“oh...”she looks at me and tells me“i’m ready to go.”ready to go where mom?“up there.”she smiles and points to heaventhis treasured spiritin a jar of clayyearns for her heavenly homeher fragile mind has broken freefrom the restrictions of this worldthis world that knows timehurts, anger, pain,overcommitments, stress, sorrowguiltall have been shatteredby this disease called Alzheimer'sa blessing in disguisefor we are called to live in the momentto love in the momentto enjoy only the thing set in front of usto hold on to the smilesto prayto holdto touchsometimes the grief is too much to bearso a hold and touch is too much to givethe nakedness is too muchthe rawness is too muchfrom grieving the personshe once wasshe once wasjust like mevibrantfull of laughter and lifethe center of her familycaring for their needsand keeping them togetherwho says she is not keeping us together nowin prayerat night she says to me“thank you for taking care of me.may God bless you for all you doi always pray for that.”so i continue to care for herthis treasure in this jar of clayand when this jar is finally brokeni will be able to pick up the shattered piecesand hand them back to the Father she lovesthe spirit that yearns for Himwill go home