Charity, Forgiveness, and Other Junk

I go to church.

It's always the same lessons, over and over. The only thing that changes is me. Where I am at that moment in life. What I struggle with and where I need to improve.

Last week was charity, this week forgiveness. These are huge, powerful concepts. And I struggle.

There is a hard, black, knot in my heart. I know it's there; God's knows all about it. I pray it go away, that my heart be softened, that I can be kind and loving, but it's wedged in awfully deep and gets deeper daily.

I can't remember when I gave up on my mom. Sometime during Sagan's life; I know I still cared and had hope when I told her to move in with us while I was pregnant, but somehow, with the intensity and constancy of life, I had to give up because every effort failed. I couldn't get her to care about how she looks or smells. Her teeth fell out and she wouldn't make a dental appointment. She makes sure every one knows she is diabetic, but she eat what she wants, sneaks things if we try to remind her to eat better. I tried to help her get involved in things she loves, but then it was all on me to get her there and back, and know where and when. I have my own life and my husband's and children's lives to mind. I couldn't take the energy to care more about her life than she does.

And to be honest, I am ugly about it. I know I am. There is no gratitude from her. Just entitlement and expectation. They say if you give service begrudgingly, you might as well not bother. They tell us we must forgive if we want to be forgiven.

What is it to forgive? We stupid humans can't forget things like God claims to. Every pain and wrong is cemented in my mind. I think we get to keep the memories to help us not inflict that pain on others. But I don't know how to let go. I don't know how to let go when she is always, every day, adding to it.

Her brothers and sisters hug me and thank me for taking care of their little sister. Bah. You take her for a while.

In church they talked about how sometimes you have to maintain a boundary to protect yourself from further abuse. While I think that helps, its more like, out of sight out of mind, not true forgiveness. I hide in my room because I have nothing but spite and bile for her.


I don't know that I can give forgiveness while we are both alive. And so I assume that means I can not expect it from God. I guess that is how it must be. I feel damned.That is my understanding of the atonement. I have faith ... I know the contingencies for salvation.


I whine about it too much. My husband can't bear to listen and I try to avoid it. A woman at work said, "She is still 'Mother.'" I agreed to be polite, but it is not so in my heart.


I'll pray more. maybe there is hope somewhere.