In My Defense

It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Given my previous blog, need I say how difficult life has been lately? It has been difficult, but enlightening. Amongst the thorns of difficult circumstances, have been God moments that can be explained no other way. With the loss of my mother, has been the great gain of insight, God’s amazing provision, and the Holy Spirit’s constant care of me.

Seeing me through the events of my mother’s suicide, and the accusations flung carelessly around by others haphazardly in my direction, I saw my Lord - my Awesome God, feed me truth in the midst of their hurtful venomous lies. As they proceed to even lie about their lies, my husband and I know what was said by each accuser, and more importantly still, God Almighty knows what was said: “Go and lie to Him and see how that goes!” I say.

Some things I can’t defend, like my unchecked response to the second round of accusations. Can I say this? Last year in February I was working out at the gym. One of the trainers dropped a ten pound dumbbell on my Iphone. In looking at an unblemished phone you can't even begin to know the maze of wires beneath the sleek shiny surface, but when the trainer dropped the dumbbell on it, the smooth glassy surface shattered and a single wire poked out. It was suddenly like the wiry course hair on a doll’s head that has seen too much play.

Well, when I was accused the second time for being the person who made my mother kill herself, because of a letter I wrote to her concerning her seemingly unhealthy lifestyle fourteen months ago (that's 14 months), and because I didn’t plan on going to Thanksgiving due to our own ongoing difficult circumstances, I felt the weight of a heavy dumbbell hit me in the head. It seemed a poky wire jutted out and I went a wee bit postal: I went crazy! I yelled. I cussed. I screamed and cried, “Get out! Get out of my house!” I feel bad about it now. I felt bad about it them, almost immediately. I apologized and repented to God and felt His unexplainable peace wash over me, as I knew with certainty that those coming at me were dangerous, to say the least.

I cannot even explain how doubly devastating this has been. I lost my mother – the only mother I had and I lost her in the most violent way. She shot herself. In that one gesture, she said none of us were worth staying alive. The rejection I had felt for her choice of alcohol versus a healthy relationship with me, is nothing in comparison to her taking her own life.

I lost her by her own choice. And, she was not LIKE a mother to me. She was not LIKE a sister to me. She was not LIKE anything – she WAS my mother. The scrutiny I have gone through merely having a relationship with my own mother has been painful – every personal dealing between just she and I skewed and up for group criticism, like someone holding a garment up to the crackle of a fluorescent light to make sure it's worthy. Frankly, I don’t know of any one single person whose personal relationship with a parent has ever come under such examination - such hateful, spiteful critique.

Though I’ve heard of personal stories wherein my mother’s alcoholism made her difficult, at times, to get along with for others, no one has allowed that knowledge to extend to me. Somehow, these people – beyond reason – believe that her alcoholism never had an ill effect on OUR relationship. Somehow, they believe that the blame must surely lay with the person they disliked the most – me.

Make no mistakes, I loved my mother. I loved her in spite of everything. I knew her and I accepted her, and I loved her. I could not live with the intimacy I desired from her, but I loved her anyway. I also could not live idly on the sidelines while her alcoholism stole her away and be silent. In as grand a statement as I could make, given the climate of criticism of all those who didn’t want to say anything against her alcoholism, I stepped away from her asking her to make a healthier choice, asking her to make a choice that would also be healthier for my three children who adored her and watched her intently. I wanted her to be a healthy role model, not a role model that would allow them to form insensitive opinions of alcohol and its potentially harmful long-term effects.

For anyone who has had more than one person in their family die from alcohol, I would hope that they would make such decisions for the future of their children. For my family, I have had a great uncle die, a second cousin, and an aunt, not to mention the extensive damage alcohol has done to many of those I love and care for.

This blog is my defense, because I know that those who have judged me slink around to come at me with all sorts of meanness, and they lurk still to find more reasons I’m wrong and evil. See if they can find it here in my own words, because unlike their lies, I am truthful. I call them out. I am angry and I’m not going to take it anymore.

A letter I wrote to my mother on September 16, 2008, (fourteen months before she killed herself - that's 14 months!), did not kill my mother, though that was what I was told. Her e-mailing me eight days before she killed herself telling me, “I love your e-mails. They perk me up,” doesn’t sound as though she and I were doing poorly, though everyone has their own account and assessment.

I will say it again for all those who are dying to believe differently, I loved my mother. You don’t know what my relationship was with my mother and I did not tell you how to behave in your relationship with your mother. When your mother died I didn’t try and make one decision of what would be said, or what would be done. I did not elbow into power to get my way to make you feel worse, or increase your sadness. What kind of person are you that you are trying to make me feel badly? Is your personal guilt that engulfing? Well, it has nothing to do with me, so please get help.

Oh, and just because I’ve chosen to be lain bare, here is the opening and closing of my letter to my mother fourteen months ago. Just so you know, the middle parts were verses – Jesus’ words. If you have problems with Jesus, take it up with Him. He is capable of handling your anger and lies much better than me.

Hi Mom,

I have wanted to write you a letter for some time. I have wanted to discuss more in-depth things than we typically chat back and forth about in our casual e-mails. I feel God pressing me to do this. It’s not something I want to do, because I’m not really sure of how you’ll receive it. Anyway, I’ve wanted to do this and I almost didn’t, but God wouldn’t let me go. So, here I am writing a letter that I feel compelled to write, because I love you, care about you, and want to be sure you have the salvation that will find you in heaven.

First of all, I love the verse that says, “Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses,” because I passionately feel unable to keep my faith and worries about your salvation from you, even if it hurts just a little. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I want far less for you to be lost, because I said nothing.


And, the closing was:
Mom, I’m not just trying to laden you with verses that push my will. I want you to see God’s will for you, so that you will be among the kingdom of heaven. You and I don’t have forever: Either of us could be gone at any moment. I have given up on my earthly desires for our relationship. My desires for you are eternal, which are far greater than anything that could happen on this earth. I pray that you will take this letter in the intent in which I have written it, because I have written it with a full heart of love and care for you, eternally.

Also, I know that for many in our family you are the matriarch that influences much. I really think that you could be the most powerful force to drive some of those people in the direction of heaven. I know you love our family. I hope that you can encourage others to love heaven by seeking and doing God’s will too.

I love you,
Michelle


When I found this letter on a computer I don’t use anymore, in search of the letter I was told had made my mother kill herself, I cried when I re-read it. I know my heart. I knew my heart toward my mother. My mother was my first best friend. She was who I had wanted to be as a child. She was the most beautiful woman I knew. She was also a best friend to everyone. She was hysterical. She made me laugh until I cried.

When she became human to me, it was the hardest thing, and I began to be sad for her. I realized that my mother was not this thing of perfection, but a human being who was hurting herself. I wanted her to be better. I saw her on fire and nobody would help me put out the insidious fire that consumed her. I was furious at her. I was furious at everyone. I put it on myself to save her and felt horrible about myself and her when she wouldn’t listen to me.

I get it now, though. I can’t be mad at anyone. I can’t blame one person, just like it is entirely unjust to blame me, though most people in my family don’t extend an ounce of grace in my direction. My mother, though I loved her deeply, did not want to change. Nothing anyone could say would make her change. She made her own choices. We all make our own choices – to love or hate – to accept or blame. I loved my mother.

I responded to her the way I was wired to respond to her. Others responded to her the way God made them to respond. If I saw a friend leaving my house in the wrong direction, I would stop them and try and re-direct their path. If I saw someone taking a dangerous hiking path toward the edge of a treacherous cliff where I had just seen two others die, I would try and re-direct them, but ultimately, whether or not they listen is going to be up to them. No one can make you choose life over death.

“This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.” Deuteronomy 30:19