Yesterday after Sunday School, I took care of someone else's mother, and I deeply resented it. I suppose I should have looked at it as an opportunity to demonstrate Christian love, but I did not. Mind you, I did not mind helping Lily(not her real name). She had no control over the actions of her daughter who left her in our Sunday School class with no instructions to anyone as to what Lily was to do after class.
All Lily could say was, "A man is supposed to come," and "I can't walk much."
Of course, no man appeared. I could not leave Lily alone in an empty classroom. (There is no class after ours.) I recruited two young men from the singles class to walk with her, and they helped her to another classroom with people who knew her. There was no sign of her daughter or the mysterious man.
With her settled, I headed for my car. I had already walked too much. I am having trouble with my hip and in pain with each step. As I reached the parking lot, one of the carts that is used to transport people from the Quad(where classes are held) to the sanctuary stopped. The young man driving, I'll call him Stan, asked if I had seen an elderly lady needing a ride. I asked if he meant Lily. Yes, came the answer. Her daughter was in the sanctuary and had sent Stan for her.
I told Stan where she was, but he seemed uncertain, so I rode in the cart as close as we could get. Stan retrieved Lily from the class. She then stated that she needed to use the bathroom. Stan asked me for help. We rode to the restroom, and I went in with Lily. As she entered the stall, it was obvious she needed help. I had taken care of my mother for many years, so I knew what to do. I got her seated, flushed the toilet in the next stall when she had trouble starting to urinate (the sound of running water usually will help a bashful bladder), helped her up ( she did wipe herself), then pulled up her panties and pants, zipped her pants and pulled down her blouse. Lily thanked me repeatedly, and I reassured her I was glad to help.
Strangely, I was glad to help her, but I was seething that her daughter was absent.
With Stan's help, I got her back in the cart, then rode with her in the cart to my car. Stan assured me he could get her into the sanctuary and seated, but probably not with her daughter who usually sat in a lower tier of seats that were inaccessible to Lily. With some concern about her alone in the sanctuary, I left. I knew physically I had reached my limit.
By the time I reached home my hip hurt so badly, I wondered if I would make it inside my house. I did and went to bed.
I am totally mystified. Why would a daughter bring her mother to church, then leave her unattended? By the way, her daughter teaches a class and leads the women's program devotionals. Perhaps, she trusts God to take care of her mother. If so, she has more faith than I ever did. Perhaps...
So, now I must struggle with my faith and my anger. "God, let me understand."