Saga of the Lost Wallet...Continued

 This morning I was having tea with a friend and discussing a particular child's recent ADHD diagnosis - what that might mean for us - what it means for their future. And, as she was such a great listener, I began to tell all about my own and our various family members' experience with neurodiversity. I started to tell her about my experience raising kids and how different ones had different gifts - various blessings - bestowed on them during their early years. I told of how overwhelmed I was with young children and how when Mom Logan came to live with us, I was so grateful for her presence, I simply handed the youngest (then, Andrew, 11 months) off to her so I could get a good night's rest. 

In my previous post (here), I mentioned near the end how Mom Logan has recently transitioned from this earthly life, to her heavenly home. And how my lost wallet had been hinting to me that life - our own very selves - hold gifts that are meant to be used. As I told my friend today about Mom coming to live with us, and the gifts she brought, I thought maybe you'd like to listen in on this conversation.

Mom came to live with us in 2010, after spending her previous 46 years serving as a missionary in rural Zambia, the time had come for her to shift gears and serve in a different capacity. Many of you, I'm sure, already know her story. In case you don't, I'll fill you in.

Lois was born, the 2nd of 4 girls in Lucknow, India, to missionary parents. Eventually they would move to Karachi, Pakistan - before it was separated from India. Eventually she moved to South Africa to complete nurse training, after spending a few years in the U.S. On a trip to rural Zambia, she met Paul Logan and eventually they were married and began their missionary lives together on a mission station in Chavuma, Zambia. Lois was a nurse and Paul did maintenance, Bible Teaching, Outreach in small villages, among other things. They had 4 children (the youngest, Samuel, is the one I married :D) 

Lois stands out to me as one who cultivated and used her gifts - every part of herself, she yielded and entrusted to the One Who could multiply the loaves in her basket. She had babies, served as a nurse, had her very real struggles, and continued to fix her eyes on Jesus. In 1992, at 51 years old, she came down with malaria. Generally, people in Zambia would recover with a few routine medications after a number of days or weeks. However, once in a while, the parasite would somehow find its way into the brain and wreak havoc. Lois' malaria became cerebral malaria, and she was quickly airlifted out of Zambia to better medical facilities in South Africa. There she was in a coma for a number of days, and was treated with high doses of quinine - the last resort to save her life, though this medicine was known to harm either optic or aural nerves. In her case, it damaged her optic nerve rendering her permanently visually impaired - legally blind - for the rest of her life. Being in a coma for many days also led to significant neurological and cognitive changes. I never knew her before this time, so I don't know what the previous Lois had been like. But from her children I learned she had been almost like a different person to the person she was afterwards. Losing vision and cognition to most would be absolutely devastating. I'm sure it was a huge adjustment as she learned to use vision-assisting devices, and how to not stumble or trip on things, and learn to see with her hands. She did have some vision, and was able to use the very limited vision to make out large things like a person walking through a room. A small field of vision had been spared, and with a high power magnifier she was able to read, albeit very slowly. In this way, she continued to read her Bible daily.

I began this post telling you how she had come to live with us, and was helping with our kids. Can you imagine an elderly woman, whose eyesight was almost completely lost, whose brain wasn't always reliable, deciding to join a family of 7 at the time, and assist daily with chores like kitchen cleanup, setting the table, tidying the living room, sweeping the floor, changing diapers, feeding young children, making coleslaw, babysitting, and repairing small items? Each of us has gifts. Even those of us who are broken. Mom Logan was living the parable of the Lost Wallet before me.

You see, I needed the help.

I NEEDED THE HELP. 

I don't know how to put it more plainly than that. Not only did I suffer from the more extreme version of Post Partum Depression. I had PTSD. I had Complex-PTSD. I had any number of diagnosed and undiagnosed psychiatric issues. I had marriage. (Does that count as a diagnosis?!) I had children. (More than one!) I had a home. I had a body I didn't take care of. I was at breaking point and beyond.

I look back at those years - decades really, and my heart hurts a little. Not from self-pity. Not from shame. But simply sadness. I was living with not just a limp, but more like a crawl. I wasn't ok. Life was just too much for me.

That was not my time to reflect on the gifts in my proverbial life-wallet. That was my time to survive and find a way through.

And Mom, though helpful, also brought some challenges. I can write more about that sometime, but along with her challenges, she brought her gifts. 

She did not allow her deficits to get in the way of spending herself in serving others.

I will get back to the Lost Wallet Saga.

But for now, I wanted to fill that part in - the part where I remember that Mom Logan served me. She used her gifts, not catering to her limitations. She was determined to lift my chunky, hefty toddlers up to their seat and feed them their porridge. She was determined to smooth every wrinkle from the tablecloth. 

I see that courage and marvel in admiration. 

Maybe someday I'll get to the place I can live more with a steady limp rather than a crawl (I think I'm getting there). But for now, I simply reflect, with gratitude on someone - Mom Logan - who used her gifts to bless me.