Who dropped the ball?

Who dropped the ball?

I suppose that was the question that my sister and I asked most often. Over the years we both blamed my father for how he managed my mentally ill mother. She is now diagnosed as having Bi-Polar mood disorder and schizo-affective disorder. It became apparent to me as I entered grade school that my mom was not like all the others. And every time she went into a rage or a paranoid state, I resented my father for not taking care of the situation.

My mother spent many years in and out of the hospitals and had little counseling with drug therapy. As I entered high school my biggest fear was that I would not find a way to leave the home. My sister is eight years older and was able to enter college and make a life of her own much sooner then I. When the day finally came - I rejoiced for God had delivered me to a college campus complete with a dorm room, cafeteria, the world of academia and above all, rational people!

As I progressed through my adult life, I harbored resentment toward my father. My sister and I would agree over and over that he dropped the ball! As years passed, I married, had children of my own and prayed for "typical" children. I wanted my life to be clean of all mentally ill people forever. God blessed me with four boys, two of which have been diagnosed on the autism spectrum. I resented always being plagued with bizarre relations. But, God did give me the knowledge to love and care for my children in a way that was not modeled in my childhood. He blessed my sister and me with the ability to love unconditionally despite our anger. Furthermore, He led me to understand love more then I thought I ever could.

My parents are retired and live in Florida. My mom has been declining into a state of dementia over the years, but I didn't understand the extent of her problems because we just don’t visit that often. My dad was firm about spending Christmas together this year. Within 30 minutes of my parent’s arrival I could see that my mom was far worse then I had realized. She had lost the ability to dress herself, complained that our silverware was too heavy to eat with and could not orientate herself. I watched my dad care for her every need in a way that was so proactive and loving. At that point I realized that no one dropped the ball. My mom did not ask to be born with a mental illness and my dad was doing the best he could. There was grace in how my dad cared for my mom, there was grace in having our Christmas together, and there was God’s grace in teaching me how to love a mother who is not capable of loving.

The other day she sent 24 bowls via FedEx. It didn’t make much sense. We already had dishes. But that was her way of loving me. It was what her mind led her to do. So, the phone call ended… mom… thank you so much for dishes… how did you know we needed the bowls so badly… how thoughtful…

1 Corinthians 13:1-13 (ESV)

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful..."

Jill Lowery-Robinson
Walking the Road 

Jill serves on the mission and green teams of Asbury. She lives in Lenexa with husband Josh and four active boys.