Channeling Joan of Arc

My mother was the daughter of a martyr.  I am, too.  And my kids make it officially a pattern.  I guess it’s a recipe we’ve had in our family for generations.  It’s not a convection that can be whipped up in just a day.  I mean, it’s not like my grandmother, my mom and I each decided, “Yes, I think I’m going to become a martyr.”  But with blind practice we all found familiarity in taking on the weight of the weak and incompetent at their first signs of failure or pain.  Once firmly tied to the stake, it’s hard to see our way free.

For the past three years or so my mom had to take over all the duties my dad had done so well for nearly sixty years.  This included all the finances and bills, half of the cooking and cleaning up and all the grocery shopping and errands. Worse, she had to take on my dad’s care.  She was truly the wrong person for the job.  It was overwhelming for her since she battled her own diminishing abilities and strength.  “Yes, but . . .” was her mantra when my siblings and I would suggest solutions like hiring someone to help or moving out of their big house into an assisted living facility.  No, she’d continue in her impossible situation with a cup of resentment and a teaspoon of self-pity.  Finally she did agree to hire some help.  Four people, two mother-and-daughter teams enriched and eased her life a bit.  She also allowed me to take over her finances and set up all her bills online with autopay.  Still, she was unable to get to the gym which would have relieved her back pain because she always had “too much to do.”  She had no time to read, a pleasure she relished.  Getting to bed before sunrise and up before sunset was a continual struggle.

In the week before she was hospitalized, she complained over the phone about all this.  I asked her, “So, how’s life, Mom?”  The weight of the question scared me the minute I spoke it.  I don’t remember her exact words, but I heard the dissolving spirit in her voice when she said it was pretty bad. 

In her critical care room, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to make it, I whispered to my unconscious mom, “It’s okay, Mom.  We’re going to take care of everything.” 

I’m happy to report we’re keeping that promise, my siblings and I.  My brother and his family are taking great care of my parents’ dog, giving him a happy life.  We’ve sold their house and are keeping valued antiques in the family.  My dad is more active and stronger now than when he was at home.  And between my brother and me, he sees family daily. 

Over the past weeks I’ve felt the heat at my feet.  My dad’s financial and medical matters splattered all of my days.  Contacting agencies is no easy task with those circular transfers and repeated requests for numbers only to hear, “Our offices are closed.  Please call back during regular business hours of . . .”  I spent too much time sorting mail for my daughter, son, upstairs neighbor, dad and even a letter for my daughter’s dog!  Me?  The gal who needs a rake to clean her house?  The gal whose approach to sorting mail is to leave it for a year until it’s all irrelevant?  I’m truly the wrong person for the job.  It was all so overwhelming.  The worst part was I couldn’t call my mom to tell her about it.  I felt just like my mom did only I had all my original pain-free parts tied to the same stake she’d been bound to.

In my hour of desperation, I found the strength to turn to a friend I knew I could trust.  Her empathy and concern went a long way.  She encouraged me to turn over some of the burden to my siblings.  I was able to see past that mantra, “Yes, but . . .” and find one task to turn over.  The very next day, another opportunity jumped in my path.  I almost let it grab me by the neck, but in an instant I recognized it as a chance to practice a swift deflection.  My move left me feeling victoriously light while the other guy was a bit miffed but unharmed. 

No one asked me to take on these jobs.  Mostly it makes sense that I did. I now hold that I am truly the right person for the job.  I’m richer in many ways.  For one thing, I’m becoming more organized and efficient which makes me feel a little more grown up.  More important is the sweeter bond and affection my dad and I are developing.  But the biggest gem of all is that I’m learning how to loosen the shackles of isolation, see past the flames and reach out for help, even though it’s hard.  This, I now understand, is the most powerful part of the promise I made in the hospital.  I see it now as my gift to my mom.  In a squiggly line way, maybe her letting go is her gift to me.   

Following a family recipe for martyrdom is easy.  It’s easier to take on more than to take the time to pass along knowledge or even let go of the arrogance that I’m the only one who can do it well.  Sometimes it’s easier to do it myself than to face resistance or mistakes of others.  But old ideas about what’s good and healthy have become antiquated.  Making space for healthier ingredients takes practice: experimenting, failing, trying again with a few different spices.

Today I’m so grateful for a little bit of growth, the competence of others and a healthier recipe, and the last lesson from my mom.

Here’s the soup recipe my mom loved, that I rarely made because it was so much work and only I can do it right so you might as well just not make it.

Lentil Vegetable Soup

3 c. green lentils

5 c. boiling water

½ pearled barley

½ large onion chopped

3 cloves garlic sliced thinly or pressed

3 cans diced tomatoes (seasoned with oregano and basil is fine)

2 t. oregano

2 t. basil

Salt and pepper to taste

Red pepper flakes if your diners can handle it

Juice of one lemon

2 medium sized carrots sliced

1 stalk of celery chopped (if organic is in season)

Two potatoes chopped

Handful of green beans, cut

½ pepper chopped (any or all: green, yellow, orange, red, whatever organic is in season)

1 c. chopped broccoli

Small package of mushrooms, sliced

½ large zucchini quartered and sliced

½ large yellow squash quartered and sliced

1 package frozen chopped spinach or 3-4 leaves of fresh kale chopped

1 c. frozen or fresh sweet corn

Soak lentils in boiled water for an hour.  Pour into pan with water.  Add onions and garlic and bring to boil.  Simmer on low boil for about 30 to 45 minutes.  Boil barley separately in one and ½ c. water for about 25 to 23 minutes.  Add spices, lemon and tomatoes to lentils and bring to boil again.  Add carrots, celery and potatoes.  Boil for ten minutes or so.  Add green beans and peppers.  Boil for another five to 7 minutes.  Add mushrooms and zucchini and cook another five minutes.  Finally add corn, kale and cooked barley. If the soup isn’t flavorful enough, one or two teaspoons of balsamic vinegar will give it more depth.  Try one t. first.  It goes a long way.

Whew!  That’s a lot.  Toil, toil.  You may want to turn over the chopping to someone else.  Break free of your ties and get out before the flames rise too high.