Monday, March 21, 2005

Slow Train Coming 

I still recall vividly an afternoon about 10 years ago, sitting at the table with my mother, each of us reading a section of the paper. My mother, a fervent, very conservative Christian, was reading about a right-to-die case involving a woman on life support.

I can't recall the case. What I do recall was my mother suddenly putting down the paper and pointing to the story, telling me, "Tresy, if you children ever ever put me in a situation like this, I swear, I will haunt you from my grave."

Used to my mother's penchant for drama, I made a noncommittal grunt and tried to go back to reading the paper. Mom was not done.

"Tresy, look at me. I am not kidding. Look me in the eye and promise me that you will never, ever let them do to me what they are doing to that poor woman. Who are we to play God like this? I am ready to meet my Lord any time He wants me. And when He calls for me, I will go, happily, because I know He will be waiting for me. There is nothing in this fallen world worth what is happening to this woman. She is being sacrificed to the idea that Man, rather than God, determines when we die. And that is a sin: the sin of Pride. Promise me you won't let them do this to me."

That was about the last time we ever agreed on anything.

The other day, appropos of our family's move to Canada, Mom told my spouse, "I just don't understand why Tresy hates George Bush so much."

Perhaps now she's getting an idea.

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