Twenty

           First of the month.  Melissa sat at the desk writing checks, making a dent in the pile of bills. Thankfully Social Security and IRA draws created a comfortable retirement.  Their income wasn’t as much as when they worked. They had planned well in advance, paid off the big items, managed monthly expenses with some leftover for wants not just needs.  She’d focused on good stewardship, sound financial advice, and common sense so now they reaped the rewards of wise planning. 

Granted they were at the whim of the stock market which wasn’t for the faint of heart. They’d ridden out two downturns that had resulted in a smaller nest egg.  Regardless they were still ahead of the curve.  When the Stock Market was up, they could pull out extra, so in the end, it balanced out. It didn’t hurt them to tighten their belts in the lean years. After all God had Joseph as an example of wise planning.

“Hey,” Ed stuck his head in the door, “Jan just pulled in the driveway.”

“Jan?” Melissa said quizzically, “I wasn’t expecting her.”

“Don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged as the doorbell rang, “she’s here.”

Melissa lay down the pen and made her way to the front door.  It wasn’t unusual for Jan to pop in but generally, she called first. She unlocked the door, smiled when she saw her friend and said, “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Was on my way home. Thought I’d stop for a minute,” Jan explained as she took her coat off and laid it on the entry bench.

“Want coffee?” Melissa asked as they made their way down the hall to the kitchen.

“Sounds good.”

“Ed made a fresh pot,” Melissa said as she poured a cup and handed it to Jan.

“Not having any,” Jan stated.

“I left a cold cup on the desk,” she grimaced. “I’ve been paying bills.”

“Oh joy,” Jan laughed, “our favorite thing to do.”

“Yeah right!” Melissa laughed with her.  “So, what you been up to?”

“Ran errands,” she took a sip of coffee, “thought I’d stop to see how you’re doing today on your mother’s birthday.”

“Not just any ole birthday but her eightieth,” Melissa sighed, “Mixed feelings. Sad I can’t help her celebrate.  Then there’s relief at not having to deal with her.”

“Some might say you brought this on yourself.  All you have to do is pick up the phone and call,” Jan stated.  “How’s that make you feel?”

“Angry! To state the obvious! This morning I went over the feeling word list Naomi gave me.  Downhearted would best describe the type of sadness. I’m still a bit puzzled and wrestle with understanding what all this ‘mom’ stuff means.”  Melissa sat down at the table; Jan sat across from her.

“What’s Naomi say?” Jan asked.

“Ah, there’s a sixty-million-dollar question!” Melissa dropped her head into her hands.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.” Jan softly said, “I just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.  I know this day is hard for you.”

“You know,” she lifted her head, rested her chin on folded fingers, “I woke up feeling like a quiver of fiery arrows had been shot my way. I know Mom and her cohorts are praying us kids come to our senses. Resist the evil that has led us astray and call her.  Repent of treating our mother so unjustly and reconcile. Because after all, we know how she is, always has been and always will be. So, get over ourselves! I reminded myself that I wrestle not only with flesh and blood but principalities and powers, rulers of wickedness in this world. Their well-intentioned, misled prayers give principalities ammunition to mess with us unless we stand against them.”

“And did you,” Jan paused, “stand against them?”

“Absolutely! I kept it simple. I submitted my will to God, resisted the enemy and commanded him to flee. I refuse to get sucked into a prayer war. The last thing I want to do is give the enemy any more ammunition.” Melissa said with frustration.

“That’s good!” Jan praised her.

“I love my mother and do miss her,” Melissa said with melancholy. “Naomi helped me understand what I miss is the idea of what I always waited for her to be, a mom. And obviously, at eighty years old it still ain’t happenin. She will never be a mom and that makes me sad.”

“What about Sam and Jen, they calling her?”

“Sam probably will,” she frowned, “Jen won’t. Last time I talked to her she said her therapist helped her get to a place of not wanting mom dead.  So that’s good.”

“I remember you saying she really carried on about wanting your mom dead,” Jan cringed. “That seems like such a scary mindset.”

“Big time!  She was even fantasizing how she could go about making it happen!  I’m glad, for her sake, she’s working through the why’s of feeling that intensely about mom’s demise.”

“I doubt your mother will never know the emotional damage she’s done to her kids,” Jan said.

“Neither will those who aren’t willing to listen to both sides of the story.”  Melissa raised both her hands as if to surrender, “It’s not my responsibility to try and get them too.  I’ve appreciated the few who’ve called and wanted to know what I had to say about mom.  Naomi really helped by pointing out if they don’t want to listen, tell them my pain needs to be honored and respected and leave it at that.”

“I must say you’re doing better today than I thought. I know you’ve put the work into it and it shows!  Way to go girl!” Jan high fived her.

“Thanks, I’m trying,” she grinned, “It’s a daily challenge to break free from a lifetime of covering up for her.  An epiphany I had this morning was how strong my sense of responsibility had been, and still is in some ways, an illusion of control when it comes to mom.”

“Hey,” Jan shook her head, “there’s no one on God’s green earth that could control your mother!”

“Too true!  Lord knows, to our detriment, we tried.  Especially Sam!  He’s still a bit of a control freak and doesn’t fully realize it!”  Melissa stated with raised eyebrows.

“Didn’t you talk about control issues last time with Naomi?” Jan asked.

“Yes, we did.  She was surprised my fourteen-year-old self, scored forty-nine-percent control. But that’s where responsibility kicked in to replace that feeling of disempowerment which came from being a victim to mom’s authoritarian control.”

“I remember telling a niece, at her sister’s wedding, her guilt trips about not coming to her wedding wouldn’t work on me.  I’d been raised by a mother who had a Ph.D. in guilt trips.  Mom was and is a master manipulator with guilt trips.  It’s a covert narcissist’s way of dominating the narrative and making themselves the victim or hero, never the villain.  It’s a smokescreen that I’m, hopefully, finally breaking free from.”

“Which brings me to the next stuff I need to work on.  The feeling of embarrassment and shame that comes with having fallen for and into her manipulations.  I have to break free from feeling responsible for her. My only responsibility is to overcome the damage done and let God heal my broken, shattered heart.”

“That sounds like quite the challenge!” Jan responded and encouraged. “But I think you’re up for it.”

“I hope so,” Melissa hesitated, “I’ve covered up, in order to protect mom, the ugly memories.  I’ve quenched emotions thinking I’m protecting myself.  I’m just thankful the Lord taught me a few years ago about His glory being the antithesis to shame.  I suspect knowing that will help me through the messy process of unburying the pain of cover-up.”

“I’m so glad you’re not trying to do this on your own,” Jan said.

“I couldn’t do it without your help and support Jan.  I hope you know that,” Melissa smiled.

“You’re going to owe me big time,” Jan grinned as she Groucho Marxed her eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t let me forget,” Melissa threw back her head and laughed.  “It’s never a dull moment with you.”

“Better believe it,” she answered mockingly, “But hey look at the time.  I better get home. Bill’s going to think I’m out spending all his money.’

“As if,” Melissa rolled her eyes, “you are both such cheapskates.”

“Yep,” Jan said as she stood up and punched her friend on the arm “you know me well my friend.”

Melissa followed her friend down the hall and waved goodbye as she went out the door.  With a smile, she headed back into the office to finish the bills.  The thought of it being her mother’s eightieth birthday lingered in her mind and she sent up a silent prayer God would bless her on this special day.