the things we keep
March 16, 2015 § 4 Comments
There is a delicate balance to mothering children to love a family member who is abusive in their mental illness; to teach the innocent to love unconditionally what they recognize as wrong and experience as hurtful.
We accept injury often as inseparable from the individual’s identity. It is less a matter of forgiving and more a narrative of acceptance for the inescapable truth we cannot edit with a fallacy of make-believe.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
In motherhood I perpetually make excuses for familial unkindness, a trick of distraction to keep my children safely outside the line of harm while near enough to the madness that they might learn forgiveness and empathy; to claim their heritage honestly without shame. I am cautious to whisper my worries in privacy; to never speak ill, accuse or criticize in a manner that might offer judgment or blame to my children’s ears as we stand witness to the spiraling decent into cruelty.
In time the truth is not so easily hid. My children have heard hate in its native tongue, each small harm hardening the tender places of vulnerability against trust. There is no magic I can conjure to change what is and I am exhausted by the burden of untruths we bear in the name of love.
scribblechic 
This may be a bit out of context with your post. But, at one time in childhood, I had a deep sense of blame and hate towards my parents, simply because they’re the first people I remember telling me a lie.
Now I’ve come to understand their reasons, but understanding doesn’t mean they’re justified for keeping reality from me.
As the serenity prayer said, it’s nice to know the difference between what I can and can’t change, what I should accept. And to do that, we need no less than the truth.
Learning those we love are fallible and capable of harm is a painful truth. Of course, knowing this we are armed with the ability to accept these imperfects and center our happiness in choice.
Try as we might we cannot shield them for long. All too soon, either the unrelenting assault or, more likely, trainable senses become increasingly aware of that which does not jive with a kind heart and soul. But those troubled ones do exist out there and all of us need to acquire the many complex skills required for working with or perhaps managing them. Th best we can do as parents is help guide that growth, to explain that which is incomprehensible, to offer reassurance or strength when necessary and, yes, from time to time to offer temporary protection while their defenses grow.
It is a tricky tightrope, one that requires a grace of balance I strain against regularly.