3 Things Every Adult Child Needs Their Parent To Say To Them

It was a sunny, April day in 2007. I was 7 months pregnant with our third daughter, Lucy. Katie was 3, Julia was 18 months. Mom and Dad called me on speaker phone to confirm what we had been suspecting for years. The diagnosis was in fact, early on-set Alzheimer's.

This crazy-amazing, crazy-painful thing happens when you become a parent. And I suspect it happens not just for those who become parents, but simply anyone who passes into the chamber of adulthood. (The two happened for my simultaneously. I gave birth to Katie at the wee age of 21. God bless her.) Through the lens of adulthood, through the lens of parenthood, we are able to more clearly see the stories of our very own parents. Therefore, a seemingly crystal-clear view of our own childhood. Crazy-amazing. Crazy-painful.

Just as I was beginning to get my feet under me as a mama, I desperately needed to walk back THROUGH my childhood, not AROUND my childhood with my mom. I had so many things to ask her, to apologize for (mainly for stealing all her sane brain cells) and honestly, I needed to express to her some wounds I had been carrying for far too long. And at the end of the day, I wanted to sit at her wise feet and ask, "How did you do it?!"

Alzheimer's does not always smile a friendly smile on rehashing the tricky road of hurt. Alzheimer's steals the ability to navigate such bumpy waters and emerge healed. Bottom line, any of the complicated matters my heart needed to discuss with my mom, would only hurt her with an everlasting, earthly hurt.  On this side of glory, she would never be able to emotionally heal and process from ANY critique or questioning. The disease held her mind in captivity.

And so as an individual soul, whatever frustrations I had, whatever cracks I needed her balm to heal, I had to find that peace and forgiveness by never uttering a word to her, but by transforming those wounds into energy to serve her and love her well until her very.last.breath.

As a daughter who now stands on this side of losing a parent, from a place of much humility and tender thought, I have some advice for parents with grown children, and for grown children with parents.

Parents of Grown Children,

We need you say 3 things to us before you die. And we might need you to say them to us more than once.

I am 12 years in to this parenting gig, and I am overwhelmed at the number of times I have ALREADY wounded my children's hearts. It is VERY sobering to realize that the decisions I am making on their behalf, decisions I have ALREADY made on their behalf, will live on in them forever.

Parents, say you are sorry.
Grown Children, forgive your parents before they ask for it.

It is healthy and good to walk through our childhood. It is good to name the things our parents did well and pass them on to the next generation. It is also healing to name the things that they got wrong, process it deeply and purely; grow from it, heal from it, but you MUST NOT camp there.

My mom spent a lot of her final days and years apologizing, but the painful kind of apologizing. The kind of apologizing you wanted to plug your ears and wish away. It was awful to hear her apologize for things she had no control of, "I'm sorry I fell. I'm sorry I forgot. I'm sorry I spilled. I'm sorry I misspoke. I'm sorry I wet myself. I'm sorry I'm confused. I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience." My heart would break each time. And with each apology, as a family, we attempted to meet them with, "It's ok, Mama. It's ok. You don't have to apologize. It's ok!"

Grown children, regardless of the pain inflicted, forgive your parents. FORGIVE.YOUR.PARENTS. They are broken vessels living every day with a bit of sovereign grace to see them through. I do not know your pain, nor do I pretend to understand it, but I know the forever mark they will leave on your mind and in your heart. And when they are gone, telling them they are forgiven is no longer an option.

Parents, tell your children that you are proud of them!
Grown Children, be willing to admit in your heart of hearts, how desperately you need to hear these words.

She smoothed the table cloth over and over again. She was nervous and was trying to busy herself with a task. I was cleaning up lunch, and because her ability to move was limited she could only watch me. I cannot imagine how that broke her. The Mama, the matriarch, the one who spent her life busying herself in the kitchen, could only sit helplessly and watch. She apologized, "I'm sorry I can't help! Let me do the dishes. Find me the broom and I'll sweep", she rocked forward trying to sweep crumbs into her soft palm. "It's ok Mama, you have cleaned up more meals than my brain can imagine. Just sit there and talk to me." She sniffed back tears. "You're such a great mom, Sara Suzanne!" she whispered, barely audible to my ears. My throat clogged with ugly tears, "I learned from best," I choked out.

You cannot imagine the life-gift written on my heart when Mama would compliment me. For every crappy mom day I have, her words of encouragement remain and pull me through.

Parents, tell your children you love them!
Children, take every opportunity to do the same.

She said it constantly. Coming and going, calling and hanging up, sitting, sleeping, eating, walking. A brief pause, turn of her head and gentle, "I love you!"

The disease made it urgent.
The disease made it more beautiful every time she said it.
The disease made the words stick and linger.
The disease made it flow more often and more importantly.

Alzheimer's took her brain, but never her love.

Her hands were the softest I had ever held. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Death was approaching and our time with her was ending. I nestled my nose along her frail and cold cheek and wrote on her heart the very thought that I wanted her to take into eternity, "I will love you for always!"

Isn't it time for you to lay your weapons down?
Isn't it time to apologize for hurt you've caused?
Isn't it time to forgive?
Isn't it time to say something kind, something life-giving?
Isn't it time to receive such life?
Isn't it time to say, 'I love you?"

It is. I just know it is!
Now go...you might not have tomorrow!

~Sara

(Photo Cred: Capture Photography and the brilliant, Jessica Flynn)

Why God Isn't Fixing This

(Photo Cred: New York Daily News)

When these are the headlines you wake up to, your heart cannot help but hurt. Sweet friends, if we don't believe that there is purpose in our pain, our sentiment would mimic the conclusion of the Daily News.

Throughout our entire history, we are a people plagued with the exact same indictment, "God isn't fixing this!"

My heart, your heart, constantly infiltrated with the struggle to believe. In our own stories of broken places and battle scarred wounds, we cry out;

"God isn't fixing this marriage.
God isn't fixing this infertility.
God isn't fixing this betrayal.
God isn't fixing this relationship.
God isn't fixing this injustice.
God isn't fixing these lies.
God isn't fixing this abuse.
God isn't fixing this disease.
God isn't fixing the weight of this financial burden.
God isn't fixing this road littered with destruction.
God isn't fixing this church.
God isn't fixing that child, that spouse, that parent, that friend.
God isn't fixing this community.
God isn't fixing this school.
God isn't fixing this putrid heart.
God isn't fixing this work place.
God isn't fixing this ministry.
God isn't fixing this home.
God isn't fixing this family.
God isn't fixing this story."

We aren't alone. Throughout history, many went before us thinking similar thoughts.

"We are slaves whom are held hostage in a foreign land. God isn't fixing this."

"Surely, the Red Sea will end our Exodus, and we will end up in captivity again. God isn't fixing this."

"How are we ever going to make it without the delicious food the Egyptians served? God isn't fixing this."

The spies who went to survey the promised land, "There are giants every where. God isn't fixing this."

Joshua's people who marched around Jericho, "How will we ever conquer this fortified city? God isn't fixing this."

And endless more.

You know what the problem is, dear fellow friend in need of some fixing? US. You and I. Believing our God is a genie in a bottle who must be rubbed the right way with eloquent prayers, liturgy and religion. You and I forgetting, since the beginning of time, His only goal has been to fix our hearts, not our world. His goal is so much more profound, so much more life-changing, life-giving than just the waving of a wand of healing over an ill mother with Alzheimer's.

He wants our hearts. Not our lukewarm gratitude for momentary relief from our pain.

He wants our hearts.
Not our passive platitudes on Sundays.
Not our eeny-meeny-miny-moes on Monday.
Not our ten percent tithe on Tuesday.
Not our waffling works on Wednesday.
Not our thoughtless thanksgiving on Thursday.  
Not our fake forgiveness on Friday.
Not our slimy sanctification scams on Saturday.

He wants our blooming hearts. And He won't stop until He has it.

And you want to know something else? Lean is close so I can cup your chin.

HE HAS ALREADY FIXED IT!

In ways we never expected.
In wonders we cannot comprehend.
In words that live forever.
In works that set us forever free.
In bearing all the wrath and the wrong upon His shoulders.
HE FIXED IT!

He fixed it from the beginning of time, because He could not be without us.
He fixed it by slipping on humanity and leaving His throne so we would never walk alone.
He fixed it by living the life we could never live and crediting it to our account.
He fixed it by loving the least of these, the worst of these, the poorest of these.
He fixed it by feeding us everlasting life, and washing us with the blood of the lamb.
He fixed it by setting us forever free, by His death on an old, rugged tree.

Our eyes cannot often see what He is doing. Our eyes are often deceived. But we do not hope in vain. We do not struggle in vain. Our hearts do not bleed in vain. He is our Emmanuel. God WITH US. Not aloof pacing the floors of heaven; angry, disappointed and out of touch. He is WITH US, in this very moment. In this very muck. Refining our hearts to be more like His. The promise of this life was never ease and glamour. The promise was GOD WITH US. Never alone.

It's often easier for the nay-sayers to stand on the outside, pointing fingers and blaming a God they know nothing of, than it is to call on His name and sit in the mess with Him. It hurts too bad to struggle with Him, to ask Him the hard questions. Such love is too risky for our finite minds. Such security requires too much patience for our instant gratification souls.

Oh readers, He is worth it. Every pain, every struggle, every tear. He is faithful, kind, tender and true.

IT IS FINISHED, loves.
IT IS FIXED!
IT IS FIXED!
IT IS FIXED!

He is everything to me! The fixer of all wrongs. He is making it all new. Just you wait!
~Sara