Healing

My mom is a melancholic. I never viewed our relationship through that lens before. Today I would like share the profound effect that meeting somebody empathetically and intentionally where they are at can have on repentant and contrite heart. 

Recently, my mom’s legs have been hurting. She can’t really hold the baby very long and I’ve noticed her struggle to kneel at mass. She recently had an appointment at a pain management center she’s never been to and was hoping finally for some answers and relief. 

Since it was just a “consultation,” she didn’t want to bother one of us (her children) to take her. The morning of her scheduled appointment was crazy one for me and I had already moved around some formal observations. I suggested that it might ease her anxiety if  I would just drive with her once there in advance so she knew where she was going. 

We did just that and the appointment happened to be only minutes away from where my dad is buried, so we stopped and prayed at his grave for a bit too. She wanted to return home though because she had one other anxiety regarding paperwork that the place wanted in advance. She had read the line that if they did not have it in advance, her appointment would be at risk. I told her that I could easily scan and email it or fax it. No big deal. 

Even though I’ve never used my home printer as a scanner, it made her feel better to have me do it there rather than wait until I got to work in the morning. So what takes me 9 seconds at work was a half an hour adventure with the kids going crazy. I decided though it was best because I could see she was concerned I would forget about it in the craze of Monday mornings at the school. (She probably was right.) 

When the scan was complete she realized she hadn’t brought the email address with her. She was going to drive home and then drive back with it. “Mom. It’s okay, just call me and tell me it. It’s no big deal.” By this time, the kids bedtime routine was not happening. I kissed her goodbye and started with them.

When I lay next to Paulie in bed, I heard my phone ring once. If I got up and answered it, it would wake all of them up. I decided to let it go to voicemail. Accidentally falling asleep on Paulie’s bed, I woke up at 11:50 to head to my own bedroom. I grabbed my phone which I use as an alarm. 

Seven missed calls from mom. Seven voicemails carefully left in 17 minute increments. 

My heart broke. My mom needed peace. I know she wouldn’t have slept well worrying that her paperwork wouldn’t make it there. I called her back at midnight. She was still awake. “Mom, why didn’t you just leave the email on one of your messages?” 

“I didn’t think of that.” 

You see her melancholic vices allowed her to have tunnel vision and anxiety, especially when she knew she was dealing with her sanguine daughter who lives in a world of activity. 

Before heading to bed, I got on my computer and emailed the paperwork for my mom. I even asked the generic email responder to please let me know they received it. I desperately wanted my mom to have peace.

That night my heart swelled up with love for my mom and a new sort of patience and compassion I have never felt. 

Honor your mother and your father.

You see it had always been easy for me to relate to my dad, a fellow sanguine I’m sure. He was charismatic and funny. If I wrote a poem or drew a picture, he would study it with me and appreciate it. He “got” me.

My mom would come it (me) from a logical, rational standpoint. She is very black and white.  I would walk away feeling misunderstood. 

That night I thanked God for my mom’s sense of order, her committed prayer life, and her selflessness. I realized it her virtues that kept us all grounded. I forgave myself for all the moments that I have become agitated when trying to operate in her world. I asked God to relieve her anxiousness. 

On Wednesday, Lent begins. Take your new understanding of the temperaments into your relationships this Lenten season as you prepare your hearts for God. I can attest to the healing power if you open yourselves to it. 

At a recent workshop I overheard a teacher walking out saying to her principal. “I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders. This year has been so rough. I leave drained instead of inspired. I thought I was losing my touch, but really I have a class with a collective temperament that challenges mine. I need to come at it differently.”

Ah. 

This Lent … Forgive yourselves. Be open to God’s voice. Heal a relationship. 

Jesus I trust in you.