By the miracle of medicine and grace,
my mother woke from the malaise of dementia.
For two days,
her quick mind was back.
She laughed and shared stories.
She hugged me
and thanked me
for taking care of her.
As I held this gift from out of the blue,
I could hear my father’s voice
clear and kind,
how he wished it had been when he was alive.
He said, “Everything I did was for Mom and you kids.
When I got angry, I was angry at myself.”
What I had wanted to hear
my whole life long
has always been true.
My father loved me.
My mother loves me still.
It’s also true
that their love was
so hidden,
so foreign,
so unavailable to me,
from a very young age
that I believed what I feared:
I’m not good enough to be loved.
But I don’t have to believe that fear
anymore.
The fears that seem to separate me
from You
shall be transformed and
disappear…
they shall be gone as in a dream
when I Awaken.
–Psalm 63:9-11,
Nan C. Merrill, Psalms for Praying
An Everyday Pilgrim 