Adventures of a Passionista

"Hug me, Dad, I won't break!"

Sixteen and dressed in my first "dress-up" dress, arm in arm with a dad who had bravely ventured into uncharted waters  (Daddy-Daughter Dance!)  all for the sake of giving his little girl a great 16th birthday - we walked into Wellman's  Bridgeview theater in Valparaiso, Indiana for the sole purpose of dining on fancy food, dancing to the strains of Duke Tomatoe (his spelling!) and his All-Star Frogs, and spending the evening as buddies.

We giggled and ordered and chatted about all things silly.  Dad's eyes sparkled with excitement as he discussed the invention ideas that were swirling around in his head.  We ordered things familiar (meat & potatoes I'm certain).  When dinner was over we sat and watched as other daddy - daughter combos took to the dance floor and politely, stiffly moved as if keeping mental time "one-two-three, two-two-three, three-two-three..." to a familiar waltz.

Soon we decided to join them.  Dad, ever-so-politely-and-gently, holding me as if I were a fragile doll, danced with smooth steps, leading me across the floor like Cinderella dancing at the ball. "Hug me, Dad, I won't break!" I told him, giving him permission to hold me tighter as we danced the night away creating a memory etched in time - a memory from a lifetime ago...

Yesterday I visited my parents.  Yesterday's visit was to a "rehab" center where both are in transition - where we all are in transition.  They are adapting to living in an environment that will keep them safer than at home: no more falls down the basement stairs (that I just discovered has happened - how is that possible - I've been there almost EVERYDAY for decades!!!) with dad "doctoring" momma, thinking his tender care was enough... no more "deciding to lay right here because I was tired" - when, in fact, his muscle weakness (caused by Advanced progressive Frontotemporal Dementia) "caused him to lay down" on the kitchen floor, on his back for hours - while Momma walked blindly through the house looking for her honey - scared to death he had died because she couldn't remember him speaking to her when he'd asked her to help...repeatedly.

Their house had become evil to them, no longer providing a safe haven - a respite.  When walking in and finding Dad on the kitchen floor, last week, and the subsequent hospital stay where they BOTH were admitted for 4 days - I soon discovered that I was not enough.  I was - I am not enough.  My love for them did not protect them enough.  Their every day care: personal needs, physical needs in the environment, and running the end of their business - in each area I AM NOT ENOUGH.  They need more, better, additional.

The amazing care teams at the hospital (each in separate hospital rooms for 4 days- what a challenge!) were not enough.  Staying there 'round the clock with them, devoting most of my time to the little girl who wondered where her sweetheart was - who has no current memories but darned-well remembered "oh honey, your dad scared the STEW out of me! I've NEVER been so SCARED, finding him on the floor!!!" - kept pulling out IV's in attempt to leave her bed and find him - she had to find her love - her honey, her sweetie.    I was not enough to comfort. Not enough to keep her safe from herself.  She needed more care than I could  give - more than the nurses and the aides and I could give, together.

He, mid deeeep-sleep, would reach his right hand out patting, looking to touch familiar legs he'd traveled through life with - finding only the hospital-bed railing and settling back down, once again... until apnea would cause him to awaken and reach for her again... and again...and again. He'd awaken and seek her. Feeling his body betray him, he often discovered he'd had an "accident", with no prior warning.  Although he has more memory intact, the damaged part of his brain creates a situation that his muscle control is deeply affected, now with hands shaking, demonstrating Parkinson's - like muscle tremors, all part of the FTD (Frontotemporal Dementia) and it's debilitating effects on his body.  I am not enough to keep him clean, or safe, or balanced and off the floor.

The hospital staff created a situation where mom could visit dad's room - all day. 

Meals were delivered to both of them, as we placed them facing each other in rolling recliners, locking the wheels with one bedside tray between them- as they ate breakfast and lunch ("oooh, yum yum!" mom would exclaim) each happy as clams while rubbing each others' feet under the table, giggling like school children, and sharing their "how we met" story a thousand and one times, to people who truly honored them (while other buzzers were going off all around them). 

Their love: demonstrated in smooches, hand holding and the palpable DRIVE each had to be reuinited with each other - indeed,  their devotion to each other resonated through out ER, the cardiac unit and through out their entire care team. Their love was transforming to all who witnessed it.

Throughout their stay, I was told multiple times, "oh they remind us of the Notebook", and one doc stated: "I'm not generally a fan of 'chick-flicks', but your parents remind me of 'The Notebook' ".   I've not seen "The Notebook", and as life progresses as it does with often the forest hidden by the trees, I kept thinking:  "which part? the enduring love? the memory loss? the incontinence? the fear? which part?"   Still seeking enlightenment, I inquired of a few of the nurses who had loved my parents with ever-so-patient care,  who tenderly advised me  (with tears brimming their eyes): "honey, I don't think I'd ever watch it, if I were you...  Nope, don't..."

The doctors, case workers, social workers all danced the most lovely dance this past week.  From the moment my parents arrived in their care, they created an opportunity for both parents to stay TOGETHER - to receive ongoing,  around-the-clock care  - to help them "transition" to "rehab" where they will receive nurse-skilled care "until they are stronger"... allowing me time to get their affairs and finances in order so that all they've worked for all their lives -  will take care of THEM, now...

As I left them, yesterday, after our sweet visit - reaching for my Dad I was transported back to our Daddy/Daughter date 39 years earlier.  Yesterday, he, once again hugged me with an ever-so-gentle touch - this time, not as the "fragile doll" from our dance... this time was accompanied by a distant look in his innocent eyes waiting to walk down the hall for dinner.  "HUG ME, Dad! I won't break!" I heard the words escape my mouth.  In an instant, a sparkle shot out of his eyes, his face regaining a presence of mind as he giggled and began a story to the sweet little aide: "I took my daughter dancing one time, and that's exactly what she said to me: "Hug me, Dad, I won't break!"

Momma patted his arm, grinning ear to ear: "see honey, I knew you'd have a great time together" (ah-ha! SHE was the date-instigator! thanks momma!:)

The aide holding momma's right hand, momma's left hand holding pop's right hand walked hand-in-hand toward the delicious smells coming from the dining hall.  As we walked together, momma repeatedly stopped to smooch her man and he repeatedly grinned as he smooched her back -giggling that they had already had "dessert"...

Sitting here writing, I was hoping that pouring out these thoughts would help purge my heart of the pieces that are broken.  I cannot be enough.  While this knowledge is a gift, this knowledge is also a curse - for in coming to terms with the enormity of this truth - I face the rest of their days knowing there will be others who will help them live safely.  There will be others who receive the benefit of seeing unconditional, enduring, transforming love in action.  There will be others who receive the gift of a heart-felt compliment by a little elder girl who can't see them who will tell them: "you look so pretty today!" (and means it!)...

... alright, I get it.   Time to release them to share their love with their new environment.  In releasing them they are free to be Love to their planet.

 

(Oh Lord... they are yours. Thank you for my parents and their example to my life. Use them to reach their world - exactly where You place them, and help me release them to YOUR care.  Thank You, God, for comforting them and giving them Peace amidst these changing circumstances...   Please Lord - HUG THEM, Abba (Daddy) , so THEY won't break... Thanks, Lord... Amen.)

 

Today she is 39 again...

Today: June 24, 2011  

  She was born June 24, 1934 

Happy Birthday little Momma! 

I know when I arrive at your house, in a couple of hours, the birthday greetings will surprise you... and when we joke about how old you are, you will say, for the hundred-thousandth time you are "39"... and when we try to do the math: "let's see 1934, 44, 54, 64, 74, 84, 94 - oh I'm 39!" meaning she really does NOT remember how old she is ... and I, her ever kind, considerate daughter will say: "wow mom, you're younger than me! and I'm your daughter!" which always, many times daily will elicit crinkled eyes and wide-mouthed laughter... 

(the following is an updated/edited reprint from 2007)

"Her hair crowns her head like a glimmery, silvery halo: slightly over-parted too far left, and bangs dangling a bit too close to her dim eyes, but so white - so pure.

Reflects the nature of her heart.

7ish Springs ago, a stroke played havoc in her brain.  Could have been far more severe, yet we discovered, who she was had been altered - forever altered. This was a new day.  A new dawn - a new mom. A new sister.   A new wife.  A new memory bank.

My mom who, formerly & quite prude-ishly,  would never have ever said the word "pregnant"  in full voice (whispered such words!) now freely referred to body parts by slang and would giggle, eyes scrunched up & tears flowing in glee. Young girl giggling in an elder body.

So cute.  So full of life.  Kind.  So inappropriately laughing at the weirdest times - socially unaware of her outbursts - always with hearty laughter and often happy to show whatever she was chewing at the time.  So strange...

Putting family first, always, however -that didn't change.  Her outlook.  Now THAT is what changed.

(L - R  Aunt Mary Lou, Me & My MOMMA!)

My mother had always, always, always purposed to look people straight in the eye: honoring others, demonstrating integrity and the fact that she "had nothing to hide".  She taught us kids, early on, to look directly into eyes - that honesty can be read by the eyes, after all they are "the windows to the soul you know."

One day, Momma said she was not going to drive again.  Ever.  Independent creature she was, was not going to ever, ever drive again. She had been harboring a secret: a deep, very dark secret, for awhile.  Months later, the low vision specialist called it "macular dystrophy".  Different than macular degeneration - it was from birth, just now manifesting itself to the level of "legal blindness" (took DECADES to get to this level).

No central vision.  Yes- Peripheral.  No central.

How do you look people in the eye, if you can't see their eyes?

She had hidden the changes as long as she could, hoping for healing, hoping a change in diet would make the difference - holding on to independence for as long as she could.

The pile of gravel in the road - same color as the road - was the "seal the deal".  Bottoming out on the gravel, the men at the construction site, helped her off the pile, helped her turn the car around, and she drove back - 10 houses away to the driveway - never to drive again.

Later, much later we found out.  My life, busy, stupid busy (single mom at the time) and I didn't know for months that she had not driven.

I had already watched my mom shift and change from full-sighted -professional- bookkeeper-of- family-business to someone who had to learn to feel her way - memorize her way around the house... Now her low vision was coupled with  Alzheimer's.

Crap.

I'm sure there are books to warn adult children about the changes their elder parents will go through, but I wouldn't have read it and it wouldn't have mattered a whole heck of a lot - then.

Now, well, now is now.. and now we live in the moment , for the moment, celebrating each precious moment.

It still stinks.  Sucks actually.  (I hate that term.  But dang is it appropriate)

Dad.  Dad is so amazing.  I watch him love her and snuggle her and hold hands with her.  I watch them smooch - her with her lips scrunched up to her nose (so "sexy" haha) and him, giggling all the way in for the peck, touching -oh-so-familiar, now wrinkled lips like he has a million times before.  Now they kiss with a tenderness reserved for those who are choosing to be present in this moment, almost as if they're saying:  " we must be present in this moment.  This moment is a gift and we are going to relish it , and drink it in, and celebrate it - because you never know when..."

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Not them and their beauty.

The "you never know when". Actually, only initially -  Being faced with mortality - their mortality has awakened me to a new day. I battle between celebrating the present and dreading the future.  The future without them in it.

I KNOW they will be in a "better place".  Oh yeah!!

But I know the "crowns of glory" that I love to observe - daily, will be oh, so missed.  So very missed.

I want my grandbaby to see the smooches between them and groan and say "gross" and smile inside at how cool it is to know them.

I want my sons to hear all the stories another 10 times - and know that they have become part of the next generation of love...

But the reality is, I've spent too much time on this blog - time that would be better spent giggling at Mom's wacky sense of humor and listening to Dad's "this is so funny I can barely get it out without laughing my own hiney off"  jokes!

So for now this "new" mom is MY mom - I love her and all her facets, new and older... she's cool!

Wonder what's made her giggle today?"

 

(Happy 77th Birthday, Momma!  I'll honor that you've achieved such a lovely  age, while you celebrate being "vertical" and "39 - again! ")

 

Copyright 2011 J. Allen G.

Courage

It can create a little concern when you call to establish a new doctor / patient relationship and the nurse you speak with , upon hearing the issues/symptoms, asks you to hold, then returns to the phone and says, "doctor would like to see you tomorrow"...

And it can cause a little concern when new doc does see you   and says, "sweetie, we need to get you in for a biopsy, I'd like to do it here in the office, and get it done quickly, also here's a card, I'd like you to see this doctor regardless - with your  history we need to be certain how we proceed  what your body will tolerate and not create further issues" - .

And it can also cause a little more concern when the Oncologist's office calls the next day, and states "we've gathered your files from the past ten years and would also like you to have the results of the upcoming tests and the biopsy sent to us asap".

So , in 1 weeks' time 2 upcoming tests, 1 biopsy ... and here we go.

Did she SAY the word "cancer" ? 

No.

Do the unspoken yet spoken things lead to that word? 

Yes.

Am I sitting here "knowing in my gut" (so to speak) that I do?

Heck no.

Am I wondering? 

Yes.

Planning?

Yes.

Praying?

Yes.

Nagged by doubt or fear catching me off guard?

Yes.

Holding on to fear?

NO!

The "orderly, logical side of me" is visualizing this life in this household and boys, grandson, parents with Alzheimer's, business to put to rest, bills to pay, bookkeeping to organize so "if' the "worst" happens my family won't be left in a lurch, and what do I want to do? and I'm darn well  GOING to go to a beach somewhere before and...

The EMOTIONAL side of me would cry out "NO", not now!...

Such things would torment a person's mind - for sure - if allowed to dwell there.

In my researching and rampant reading, I ran across something today that struck a chord - a nerve - in me and is absolutely simply, beautifully  profound - and stopped me in my tracks :                                                                                    

                                "Have the courage to live. Anyone can die."

                                                                                                                                -Robert Cody

Got it. 

A dear friend has thumped me in the noggin with truth recently - and just as powerfully - this THUMPED my NOGGIN, for sure!

Also, one of my favorite Scriptures , by far, is Psalm 13.

In reading this Psalm I see so much of my life - my dramatic lows, and exhuberant highs -all in 6 little verses  - just 6 little verses - and within those 6 verses  I feel a kindred spirit with David - the writer...

For the director of music. A psalm of David.   (a man after God's own heart! yes!) 

(Notice the 1st 4 is pure LAMENTING - crying out - why???? HELP ME!)

 ¹ How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?
   How long will you hide your face from me?

² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
   and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
   How long will my enemy triumph over me?

 ³ Look on me and answer, LORD my God.
   Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,

⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
   and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

 

(Hold ON! This is where it get's gooood!)

 ⁵ But               ("BUT"! midstream he CHOSE to CHANGE HIS THINKING!)

   I trust in your unfailing love;
   my heart rejoices in your salvation.
 

⁶ I will sing the LORD’s praise,
   for he has been good to me"

 

For me, this crying out and "willful choosing to take control of fearful, stinking thinking" is what gives me hope to know my momentary fear, or battle is not unknown, nor unexpected by God.

He knows me - my inmost thoughts and deepest, darkest hopes and longings... and He loves me. He chose me (you, us all!) and He loves me. He wants me.. He wants ME to have relationship - open and honest with Him.  I can approach Him with the real me - warts and all , He will always listen. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING that is too overwhelming, too deep, too close, to anything that He cannot handle.

He can certainly handle a few doctors' appointments.

He can certainly handle my dreams and longings... and He is with me.

Knowing that gives me permission to be me, who He loves, and me is a girl who loves this life she's been gifted with.

So, dag nabbit, I'm gonna seek some Supernatural COURAGE get me some living done. :)

 

(thank you, Lord, for clarity!)

 

Here's to Living! Yes!

 

Copyright 2011 J. Allen G.

 

Boobs(the 3-Day) Dogs, Alzheimers or Stop the Spinning I'm gonna Puke!

The days of running onto the playground, jumping on the red-rusty-in-spots-out-of-balance merry-go-round and running, running, running and then JUMPing on holding on for dear life while the world spins around you - over and over, running & hopping on... and if you're fortunate, another kid shows up & you take turns riding while the other runs and jumps on... or you BOTH run and BOTH jump and can barely catch your breath & you strain/sprain your shoulder because it's spinning faster than you can run and yet you grab on hoping to jump this one.   last.   time.   and it jerks you and you laugh and survive and do it all over again another time, and another day and WEEEEEEEE!!!   

Dang, makes me tired.  I need a breather...

No matter how much it appears the world is spinning...
whether slowly or fast...
it's not that the world's spinning...
it's the "merry-go-round" - it's the wheel is spinning -

it's ME  - I'm what's spinning.

And I've been ready to . . .
throw up. (a time or two)

Puke, as my 17 year old likes to call it.

Puke.

Spewing things like:
1) HELP!  My old people forget life and I'm trying to help them keep their heads afloat.
or
2) HELP!  My baby son is now a SENIOR and he is going to be "gone" "TOMORROW" and I'm so busy I'm missing much of it!
or
3) HELP! The Chicago Breast Cancer 3-Day  (Aug 7- 9)  is in 21, no 20, no 19 days and I've trained only 1/10th of what I should because of this WHEEL...
or
4) HELP!  The Chicago Breast Breast Cancer 3-Day is in 21, no 20, no 19 days and I'm still short of my fund raising goal...
or
5)  HELP! My house is falling apart around me and I'm too exhausted to do much to prevent it, and I'm too strapped for cash to hire it done and, and, and...
or
6)  HELP! My family is in a state of TRANSITION, and REBUILDING and REGROUPING and are growing through painful days and or nights and I'm caught in an emotional tug-o-war
or
7) Help.

Although I"m not really in a state of panic.
And I'm not really in a flurry today.
I'm also not rising above the circumstances like I would like to be...  you know SOARING above...

... more like ... trudging through.

Like when you dream that you're being chased by somebody you can't see, don't know who they are, but you know you're being chased and you run, and it feels like your legs won't budge off the ground & when they do you swear they're ELEPHANT's legs walking in MUD or QUICKSAND that barely lift high enough to step forward...

...yeah, kinda like that.

.

.

... and the dogs bark and snap be back to reality.  responsibility, really. 

They can't let themselves out.  They have needs that must be met and I'm just the girl, the master to meet those needs.

And my parents have 6 acres that need mowing and taxes to finish.

And my auntie has Rx to pick up and groceries to purchase.

And my house needs a quicky tidy-up so as not to gag me when I return.

And I am just the girl to do it.

And I'm trusting the FUNDS will come for the 3-Day.
And I'm limited to train, so I will focus on a healthy body.(that is, after all, what freedom from breast cancer  - or all cancers- is, isn't it?)

And the MERRY-go-round is appropriately called just that...MERRY...

...because, regardless the circumstances I spin in
... I am convinced...
...and I am determined...
...to TRUST in the One who sees me spinning...
...who is WITH ME in the midst of the spinning...
...and who is providing me the Peace (supernatural), and Comfort, and JOY right in the midst of the MUD...
...and I KNOW, TOGETHER we will...
...make
...it
...one
...more
...day
...and
...one
...more
...day

Because, simply, HE is sufficient.

Psalm 13: 1 -6
(particularly 5,6 

 ⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
       my heart rejoices in your salvation.

 ⁶ I will sing to the LORD,
       for he has been good to me.)

"I TRUST"

A WILLFUL choosing.  A WILLFUL commitment to CHOOSE something bigger than the circumstances.

I trust.

I trust.

I trust.

Funk - a - lunk... (or LUMP...)

I am a wordy girl.

Often verbose.

Redundant.

Repetitive.

:)  (see?)

However, since - who knows when????, I've found it most difficult to put thoughts together.  To write something profound, relevant, even just plain ol' "real"...

Winter is no stranger.  52 winters of life have left me, overall, a wiser, more settled woman.  I live in cold region.  Snow is expected - it is, after all, a significant part (in my lifetime of experiences) of what makes "winter" WINTER.  (I'm sure Arizona winters are wonderful - I just like the contrast of seasons in the Midwest)

This Winter, however, I've found myself caught up in "survival" mode.  Nothing earth shattering. Nothing life & death to warrant that "fight" or "flight" thing. Nonetheless, it's been a battle raging deep within my soul - the enemy has been a dark shroud of "depression" or "discouragement" or "body sickness" or "fragility" or a stewed-combination thereof that seems ever-present, ever-hovering over every lovely, fleeting moment of light that eeks it's way through the mud.

I know I am not alone.  I know the One I love and serve is with me.  I know this because He said so. Certainly not because I've been sensitive to "feel" Him, these days.  No, indeed, these days I'm trusting that He is with me because - simply - He SAID so.

I'm choosing to trust He's got my back & those of my dear family's - because HE SAID SO.

The problem, therein, lies in the inability to CONCENTRATE long enough to READ HIS PROMISES enough to STAND upon them.

Numb.

Scattered.

Is this depression?

I look around - at my family - and am overwhelmed with the enormity of CHANGE that is oft, seemingly, reeling out-of-control.  Elders changing so quickly they resemble only little of what I knew - some changes resulting in more mellow versions of the former, some changes resulting in operating with far less social boundaries than before- which requires much patience - and thick-skinned-expectations: it is not healthy for me to take personally the accusation from a parent that I am "mocking" the other parent for not remembering or seeing.  Especially considering, I would probably end up in jail for protecting that parent from someone who were to mock said parent... yet the look of disbelief and accusation was unmistakable. Broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.

My parents are changing, before my eyes, there's not a stinking thing I can do about it , but adapt. Be available. Love.  Love. Love. Breathe them in, because there are fewer days together.  To accept them in whatever "state" they are in.  To celebrate who they are now, rather than grieve over who I've known them to be being stolen from me - from us.  Half full eyes.  Half full eyes. 

My adult child(ren) is (are) broken.  An aching heart is fractured and is trying to recover from being confirmed that "dissolving" marriage is not worth working & fighting for. 

My grandchild is broken.  His little heart is missing one, when with the other.  All sense of "normalcy" is gone.  Two households. Two homes. Two separate, lonely lives.  Two loving parents, with so much love to give, wounded, so wounded that "cancer" of the relationship has progressed too far to make the "last ditch effort" to try.to.make.it.work.   Easier (though so painful) to "move out & move on".

Loving them all, I watch, in disbelief, as two who love each other and are best friends (yes they still say that) act so. Yet they are choosing to do their own thing - child will, of course he will - adapt.  He will adapt. He will adapt.  I can do nothing but love them. Pray for them. Be available in any way I can be.  That's it.  No "parent band aid" is gonna fix this "boo boo"... not this time. So I let it go & let it be.  And it breaks my heart.   A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.

I remember being a curious child. Southern US gave plenty opportunities to see the miracles of Nature. Caterpillars & cocoons hanging, bat-like, off of lush, swaying, weeping willows - were simply marvelous things. Young, impatient and determined to "free" the dangling creatures from "prison", I'm sad to admit, I may have actually KILLED a caterpillar/butterfly  (one or three) by "freeing"the creature OUT of it's cocoon - too soon.  It was not my job to do so. By ever-so-gently-tearing-open-the-pod- by doing so, I prohibited the very growth cycle of the creature - the very "vehicle" that would allow the transforming butterfly to develop wing strength enough to FLY, once it had fought, stretched, strained, struggled, and finally BROKEN THROUGH the tightly-woven-web. I, in my honest desire to "rescue",  actually Hurt. like dead.  Only because I FREED THE CREATURE BEFORE  it's GODinNatureDesigned STRUGGLE strengthened it enough to survive in the "outside world".

Not to say these kids didn't struggle.   But the kind of goal, of focus, of intent to make it work - where the each gave a concerted - 200% effort,  in harmony, in agreement, in one-accord, with like-mind, trusting, open, open, open to each other, willingness to speak in love, to endure pain to grow through transition, grow through openness, forbidding oneself the luxury of sweeping "it" under the rug - and facing, facing, facing all the "stuff" that has fractured this relationship .  That kind of struggle didn't happen... not long enough to create a beautiful, colorful, lasting relationship that would fly free of the challenges and temptations of life.

My spouse woke up.  a month ago.  woke up.  Awakenings in our home.  A year and a half of "sleep".  A year and a half of "slumber". A year and a half of Present in the Flesh, but Absent in the Mind.  A year and a half of our marriage, his relationship with our son - while living in the "pause" button.  A year and a half gone, not accounted for, and a month ago - he woke up. 

I'd like to say I looked hard enough at what he was going through to say that I recognized clinical depression.

I didn't.

It made me sad. angry. sad. alone. It broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place. made me broken.  made me sad. made me.

Therein was part of the problem.  

me.

me didn't love he enough to intervene.  (he ain't a butterfly) 
maybe I did love him enough - I think I had too much on my plates to see enough to do so...  he is, after all, getting leftovers of my life, these days...

He - the fun-loving, thoughtful, kind man I married long ago, has returned.  He surprises me by walking up to me & gently patting my shoulder. He moved from his recliner to my loveseat & sat beside me, because he wanted to.  not expecting anything. just because he wanted to.  Numb doesn't touch. Numb doesn't interact.  Numb is numb is numb.

Now, I'm disarmed as I feel someone's eyes on me - looking up I'll see he's smiling at me. While preparing dinner, he's surprised me by walking up behind me and hugging me.... It's been a long time. I've since told my beloved of 18 years, I will physically pick up his 6' 5" self, throw him over my shoulder and cart him off to the doctor - IF there is a "next time".

I will not let him live in depression - without help - again.  nope.  I will love him enough to intervene - IF there is a next time.

My baby boy is a young man.  A great kid.  Scholar.  Kind. Funny.  Calls himself a nerd. Loves God and is not ashamed. Loves people and is not ashamed.  Loves parents & is certainly not ashamed to lavish us with kisses & hugs in front of who-knows-who....  Loves tennis, & table tennis & basketball & supporting friends in their sports and all things involving sports & other people. Is fit. Is growing stronger. Loves deeply, feels passionately and is well-loved and respected.  My baby boy/young man oft feels alone in a crowd.  I know, all to well, that pain.  It kills me to think he hurts so.  He feels often like a 3rd wheel, outsider, friend but not best friend and longs for the closeness of someone to really care about him, to call him to discover how he's doing. to know he matters to the planet...  I watch, as an outsider, as he stretches his wet wings, struggling on that cocoon of "future" self - and, carefully, I restrain myself to let him struggle. I'll watch, but I strive, work hard to allow him to learn the tough lessons without my intervention. And I struggle with the balance in all that: parenting vs. enabling.   I'm so proud of him, let him know, and desire him to learn to SEE himself the way he is seen by the One who matters, who made him to be whatever it is He made him to be... he will survive and flourish - I am sure of it!

I've been fighting some sort of "sick" since before Christmas.  depleted reserves, maybe? but I feel fragile and a sense of impending "darned if I do & darned if I don't" - I want to protect my family from all this sickness I've been fighting - so I "stay away" from my elders, which frustrates them, I'm sure.  I'll do the work, but won't hang to visit.  Don't want to SHARE these things I've been repeatedly hit with for the past 2 months. and I keep getting hit.

And seasons transition into seasons and life goes on and on and on.

And sometimes words don't come (since Jan 16) and sometimes, just when you think you have nothing at all to say.. sometimes they just come pouring forth, each one accompanied by a piece of light sent to illuminate the dark fragments,that will serve, once again, to bring restoration to a weary soul.

The situations are no different - just a deep-seated, lovingly-nagging reminder that "He will work", "He will work", indeed, "HE WILL WORK all things (yes ALL THINGS) together for GOOD for those who love Him, who are called according to HIS PURPOSE"...

Even broken people, broken lives.. He will mend, as only He can.

"Lord, thank You for your Peace.  When in deep despair, you bring comfort.  It is not my own striving or capabilities that have brought this to light - it is only, only, only Your sweet love that reaches into the heart of me - giving me life and light and setting me free.

Thank You.
Thank You.
I love you.
Amen."

While this may not be profound. It is, absolutely, REAL.

Oh, and I am a wordy girl, indeed.

neglected.

My little bloggy has been neglected.
My adult children have been neglected.
My miraculous, amazing, brilliant, beautiful grandson (yes BEAUTIFUL!) has been neglected.
My house repair progress has been neglected.
My hair has been neglected.
My side of the bed has been neglected.
My marriage has been neglected.
My health has been neglected.
Ultimately, my soul - yes, sadly, even the health of my SOUL, has been neglected- for too, too long...
 
I suppose my flurried, hurried, exhausted state is a product of all whirling around me: concern for others,  self-imposed commitments, family-imposed commitments (necessities), financially-imposed
commitments... Maybe more accurately, I should say my current state-of-being is directly related to my self-imposed commitments- because, ultimately I have no one to blame but myself for over-committing, when I am already "committed".  (or should be.  that would be a joke. hmm not a very funny joke!)

Lonely?
Sometimes, often actually.
Do I reach out? 
Heck no, who has time to commit to an "outside relationship"?!? After all, I don't even take time to see the few people who love me, why would I waste time with those who don't?  or try to develop friendships when my time is so limited & so precious?

Tired?
self-imposed, burning the candle from the middle (the ends were gone long ago...) only can point the fingers one way - me.

What do I do to correct?
Heck, I dunno that takes energy.

Actually I DO know, just don't know if I want to take the effort to focus on me.

Okay, so the reality is this:  If serving others is important to me (it is)  and I desire to continue serving others (I do) then I must make certain be achieve some form of "rest" in order to better serve.

Stink.

My nasty self and I had better take time to RE:

RE-  
    fuel
    fresh
    energize

By RE-establishing my relationship with my Lord who longs to "refuel,refresh and re-energize" me.

Actually, He's been longing for me to drop the load - for a long time.

Okay, Lord.  I get it.
Thick-headed.
Stubborn.
But too tired to do it on my own much longer.
Any longer...

Now,
I come back
to
You
cuz your daughter
has dried up
and needs
You
to make
it
one
more
day...

And so, with Grace and Mercy that You, alone, offer, (as a gift - I surely don't deserve it!) I receive your Love... and I begin, again, with You in the Lead. (where You belong)

Help me, God, to honor You, by honoring MY BODY, MY MIND, MY SOUL...
after all, You created me in Your image - I'm just not healthy enough to reflect You like you desire me to...

Help me be more like You.
Help me look like You do.
Help me see what You see when You're looking at me
Help me see me like You do...
So I can see what You see when You're looking THROUGH me,
So I can do what You want me to do...

(slow learner, Lord, but thanks so much for the REFRESHer course!) 

Love, love, love.

Your daughter.... me.

 

 

Living in the land of loss and love...

I received an email from a lovely friend of mine who said that when she read the following poem she thought of me...  I love my people.  I love my old people.  And even in loving them and celebrating who they are today - "altered" yet the same - I all to often find myself looking past them, to "next" the next thing, next task in taking care of them... Me thinks they just want me to look at THEM...


From her email to me: "
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed he had nothing left of any value.  Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem:

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? ...........What do you see?

What are you thinking.................when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man ......................not very wise,

Uncertain of habit .with faraway eyes?

 

  Who dribbles his food ...............and makes no reply.

   When you say in a loud voice ...'I do wish you'd try!'

  Who seems not to notice..........the things that you do.

  And forever is losing ................ A sock or shoe?

 

  Who, resisting or not................lets you do as you will,

  With bathing and feeding ......... the long day to fill?

  Is that what you're thinking?... ..Is that what you see?

  Then open your eyes, nurse......you're not looking at me.

 

  I'll tell you who I am ............... as I sit here so still,

 As I do at your bidding, ..........as I eat at your will.

  I'm a small child of ten............with a father and mother,

  Brothers and sisters .... ..........who love one another

 

  A young boy of sixteen .........with wings on his feet

  Dreaming that soon now........a lover he'll meet.

  A groom soon at twenty........my heart gives a leap.

  Remembering, the vows........that I promised to keep.

 

  At twenty-five, now ............. I have young of my own.

  Who need me to guide ........and secure a happy home.

  A man of thirty ....................my young now grown fast,

  Bound to each other .......... with ties that should last.

 

  At forty, my young sons ...........have grown and are gone,

  But my woman's beside me.......to see I don't mourn.

 At fifty, once more, ................. babies play 'round my knee,

  Again, we know children ......... my beloved and me.

 

  Dark days are upon me ..... my wife is now dead.

  I look at the future .... ..........I shudder with dread.

  For my young ...................are all rearing young of their own.

   And I think of the years...... and the love that I've known.

 

  I'm now an old man............and nature is cruel.

  Tis jest to make old age ....look like a fool.

  The body, it crumbles........grace and vigor, depart.

  There is now a stone....  ...where I once had a heart.

 

But inside this old carcass .... a young guy still dwells,

And now and again .................my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys................ I remember the pain.

 And I'm loving and living...........life over again!

 
 I think of the years...all too few.........gone too fast.

 And accept the stark fact.................that nothing can last.

 So open your eyes, people .open and see..

 Not a crabby old man..................... Look closer...see ME!!

Once again... the EYES....  surely I will dwell in the land of "sight"...this my prayer...

Living in Alzheimer's land while obsessing in 3-Day land

There is a direct correlation between the thief "memory loss" in my dear family and the amount of time I spend buried into breast  cancer awareness, fund raising, team building , community involvement and training for the Chicago Breast Cancer 3-day in August.

I don't know the term for taking the stress/ emotional upheaval I feel for every moment THEY stress over not remembering what day it is or how to write a check - and pouring it (my stress) into action by totally DIVING into another world.

Obsessing, really.  Why don't I OBSESS about memory loss?  Or aging? 

Could be living it one more moment than is necessary is more overwhelming than imaginable.
Could be my puny human mind cannot take one more moment of it than necessary (I think that was redundant)
(see?)

You see, that's it.

"Alzheimer's Land" is a land of repetition.
I said, "Alzheimer's Land" is a land of repetition.
...repetition.
over and over again, which is, of itself, repetition.
alot.
see, there again, is repetition.

Diving into community activism re: breast cancer awareness and fund raising -  is new! exciting! invigorating! Passionate! Hope for the future! Faith for the cure!

Maybe I just need help...
Maybe I just need help...

hmmm... definitely.

Spread way too thin. Then why are my hips so big?

I drove the 60 mile jaunt to St. Joseph Michigan, last night - alone with my thoughts. Alone after having spent a day with my little momma who had a bad bout of high blood pressure, she so accurately diagnoses as "the flu".

I spent 2 hours in the hotel room decompressing.

It took 5 minutes to dress, check out and make it back home to see how my momma was doing, and all Auntie plans OUT THE WINDOW - because, after all, she is doing well and my momma was....??? didn't know...

 

My little momma said her head felt "Busy" -translate "dizzy" head = nausea = check her Blood Pressure cuz it's gonna be a doozy.

Checked & it was so very high.

Scary high.

But my dad, momma's "dearly beloved" let his little short-term-memory-deficient-sweetheart convince him that she needed to shower first, before going to doc or hospital.  And she felt too sick to shower so it resulted in my dad allowing my mom to make a decision for her own welfare, based on incomplete and inaccurate information, just cuz she wanted to wash up first.

How cool that she cares about her girls. How sad that she could have stroked out (again) and he - we - because I didn't have the balls, uh, er COURAGE to step in and intervene, because God only knows it would make matters worse.

I want to scream. I want to cry.  It's so difficult walking on eggshells so my sweet daddy won't stroke - an action that could very well cost my momma her life.

How in the world do you balance that?

In the meantime, Auntie, needed me to have a care conference - at the same time.  As God would do it, He has worked out the details, providing another week of care for Auntie where she loves it and is loved. Deep breath while I focus on momma for awhile... well at least for another day...

Do I see a glimmer of light at the end?

No.
I do not see light at the end... I do not see the "end"...

I do not, in fact, see a glimmer of light at the end of this tunnel I am in...

My little momma and I took a ROAD TRIP to see her sister, my darlin' auntie.  It was a trip that proved to be an eye opener of such great magnitude my heart, my mind is only just beginning to understand.

These girls: Aunt Mary  on my shoulder, Momma on  the right - these wild, little girls chatted and giggled and playfully teased each other with the comfortable familiarity of a favorite pair of shoes-now-become-work-shoes-because-they're-much-too-comfy-to-toss...

"Guess what today is?!"
(In unison...)
"It's Mom's birthday!"

The OTHER one...15 minutes later...

"Guess what today is?!"
(In unison...)
"It's Mom's birthday!"

"You know, I hurt my hip"
"I know. How's it feeling? Does it hurt bad?"
"It doesn't hurt.  But it's sore"
"Do you think you'll drive soon?" (Momma has been told repeatedly her sis will NEVER drive again...)
"I miss getting around. I can't wait to 'motate' !"
"You know,  Aunt Mary,  with the memory that you've said 'goes blank',  you won't be able to drive anymore, but I surely can chauffeur you!"
"Yes, honey, my memory is bad.  I've got memory problems... You know, I hurt my hip"
"I know, sis. How's it feeling? Does it hurt bad?"
"It doesn't hurt. But it's sore"... and so on...

These two girls are traveling a parallel-memory-universe; each happily recalling detailed sections of shared history with joyful chat and an occassional simultaneous outburst of slit-eyed-laugh-till-you-cry (or pee).  Each forgetting 90% of the present - but retaining opposite parts of it - enough to create such confusing present tense dialogue - densely splattered with times that, in normal conversation, would require a response, but with these two is met with that thick-deafening-silence that accompanies not having a clue what was said - the big TOOTHY GRIN BLANK STARE that is only broken by the phrase " and everything" if not 100, then surely 300 times a day... 

"Sis, I really love that doctor. He looked at your hip and got you into that hospital and they didn't even have a room and he got you in there and took really good care of you"

(smile....................................................................................................................
..................................................................................)

"and everything..."

If it wasn't so cute it would make me bawl like a baby.

Actually, it has.

But, ultimately, what I'm learning as an "almost-52-year-oldster" - what I'm learning FROM these girls: Life is a GIFT! Be grateful for each breath, for each moment  - and each moment shared with another human being, for there is where treasure is found...

Glimmer?  NO.

I do, however, see bolting rays of light in - yes, within- this long, dark tunnel. Light that warmly embraces those who are swept up in the spiral; who are along this oft emotional, sometimes heavy journey.

on "being still" in a blizzard...(and i don't mean snowstorm)

I was honored, last fall, when my little "globe-trotting"  Auntie asked me if I would be her "power of attorney" for the "future, just in case".

I was sick, yesterday, when I used that very "power of attorney" to place her in "skilled living" -which she will be transported to -today.

HELP! Oh, dear sweet Lord! Help!!! The winds of change are howling and I'm shaking with cold!

I've barely got MY life together and here I've been thrust into being responsible for another human being - an ADULT human being who has lived her life independently of me and other intervention for 77 (she thinks 78) years.  I'm supposed to now pay her bills, take over her checkbook - with the same CARE and DILIGENCE that she has so PRECISELY operated with all her life.

I'm supposed to make LIFE-CHANGING decisions about her future as if I had a stinking CLUE!  I still have a 16 year old son at home who is more "with it" in some areas than I am!  I'm going to be handling finances - ENTRUSTED with her finances - when I'm often a bit CARELESS with my own! I'm going to be closing down her life here - as she's known it - in this apartment - for 32 years! Packing up her life and shifting her life and , and , and...

...I can't do this! I'm incapable!  I'm scared to death!   I can't do this!

...

breathe...

Those previous ramblings were filling my head yesterday - to overflowing - consuming. Overwhelmed with the enormity of her life change. Overwhelmed with the enormity of MY life change. Overwhelmed with the responsbility I am so not worthy nor capable of...

...and then, while eating a grilled cheese sandwich in hospital cafe, the dear lady sitting 1 seat away on the bench proceeds to share a bit of her life - which could easily equate to a Steven King novel - but she had joy.  Peace.  Supernatural peace.

During our conversation her words: "and God told me to 'be still...be still... " 

Then as quickly as she spoke those 2 words that cut so deeply, yet so sweetly, she left...

"be still"...

...like warm honey flowing from over my head, covering me with amber truth and comfort and oh, the peace...

"be still"...unlike "tornado" or "whirlwind" - "be still" means letting my mind rest enough to hear Him. To allow His sweet, calming Spirit to embrace me, guide me, hold me...

"be still and KNOW that I AM GOD"...

In the "stillness" I cried. Tears of release. of relief. of thanksgiving. of trusting "Daddy" (Abba Father) to love His daughters, my auntie and myself and, because of that divine love - to trust in His direction, His provision.

And today, my little, beautiful auntie moves into a skilled facility that "fit like a glove" the moment I walked into the building.  Peace. Confirmation.  A "bed and breakfast" - type environment that will allow auntie to feel private within a "community".  The peace was undeniable. The joy unspeakable - knowing I had done nothing more than FOLLOW HIS LEAD - the lead I heard by merely "being still"...

(Too bad it had already "snowed 10 inches" before I sought refuge from the "storm"... hopefully next time I'll get it a bit quicker!)

Not holding my breath...

She received a bill from her fav chiropractor - the "good doctor" for $139.00. 

While waiting for an emergency HIP REPLACEMENT she asked me repeatedly to make sure I pay that bill.

While waiting for an emergency HIP REPLACEMENT she asked me repeatedly to make sure I pay that bill.

Hmm did I just repeat myself?

No, I repeated HER repeating HERSELF.

"Honey, he's a good 'doctor'. I need to pay that bill."

"I'll check, I promise. Well, you're gonna get a new hip, anytime now... are you scared?"

"Nope, but I need to pay that bill. "

(the world would benefit from such bill-paying responsibility)

That "bill" was balance due from "manipulating" her hurt leg. That good "doc" took x-rays of her leg. Proceeded to explain to her friend why her left leg is over 2"shorter than her right leg - something useless and might have well as been a storyline from a roger rabbit type cartoon - like:- "compression of the spine" from gravity/age/from being whacked on the head too many times with a giant mallet until bottom fully buried in sand, except from waist up where she proceeded to weeble-wobble back and forth until her brain got mushy and it caused memory loss and make her leg short".

This guy who trys to  resemble a "medical professional"  is far, far less "medical" and more, more "witch doctor that gives HOLISTIC HEALTH CARE a black eye and bad name, and dared to treat this woman over $300.00 worth before he finally said "there's nothing more I can do , I think you need to go to an orthopedic DOCTOR".

Ya think?

Gee, her stinking BALL JOINT was only fractured - horizontally cracked OFF. I mean - clean across, cracked - fractured OFF.

Turns out the yahoo (chiro) took an xray of that hip.

Turns out the yahoo saw the SHORT LEG and  attributed it to arthritis in her spine. (not the roger rabbit version I created)

Turns out the yahoo has ANOTHER scheduled appointment with my aunt this Monday - that I will keep. I will show up for the appointment and I will calmly gather her x-rays (as requested by orthopedic) and I will then -WITH XRAYS IN HAND- proceed to tell him that he manipulated a woman's FRACTURED HIP- not once -but 2 different times: each time, stretching, pulling, doing everything OPPOSITE of what should have been done to a fractured hip...

I want to watch his face.  I hope it matters to him.

I hope he'll look at me in shock, in horror at what I am saying to him and realize his role in taking a little old lady and establishing her TRUST in their alternative-medical RELATIONSHIP - taking that CHILDLIKE TRUST and filling her mind with a RIDICULOUS, completely wrong "diagnosis" - which attributed to her suffering an extra 4 weeks of excruciating , unnecessary pain and hardship.

I hope he gives a darn.

And I truly hope TRUE Alternative Healthcare professionals are not hurt by someone who so casually plays "god"...

I hope his mom, his aunt, his loved one never experiences to them the equivalent of what he did to her...

I hope.

(but I ain't holding my breath)

Let's rotate so I can motate!

1:45pm:                                                                                                   

"You did this 3 weeks ago?"

"Yes"   ( ...Uhm, excuse me doc it was after the 1st of the Year!!! 6 weeks!)

"You have a broken hip.  You need a hip replacement immediately."

2:35pm - upon arrival at REGISTRATION at local hospital (walking  IN THE DOOR)

"Are you MaryLou?"

"Yes, got any food?""I'm here to get me fixed up so I can 'motate'!!"

"Doctor (blank) has called 3 times from surgery. He's looking for you."  WE JUST LEFT HIS OFFICE.

3:45pm - in surgical waiting room HURRYING to have chest x-rays, blood work, EKG, etc. Little auntie: "you looking for a girlfriend? I'm here to get fixed so I can 'motate'!"

4:45pm:- doc scurrying in looking for labs  .  Little auntie: "you all go get something to eat.  geesh, I only had toast, I missed my lunch. I'm hungry... you know of any cute docs?"

5:45pm: waiting... "you all go get something to eat.  geesh, I only had toast, I missed my lunch. I'm hungry...since I can't eat , I wonder if that's why I'm so hungry"

6:45pm waiting..."you all go get something to eat.  geesh, I only had toast, I missed my lunch. I'm hungry... hey, you got any cute doctor's around here? well show me some!"

7:45pm waiting... and what was the rush?

8:45pm  2 cute docs. AND 2 cute anesthesiologists  - both of which were "fighting" over who "gets her" when she gets her hip fixed...

10:45pm  9 hours from diagnosis auntie has a new hip and a hospital full of new friends...

Memory or no memory, I watched for hmmmm MANY hours as she navigated ("motated") her way into once-strangers -now-new-buddies' hearts and drew all unto her as a field of lush flowers draws visitors to gaze in awe at such splendor.

She is simply amazing.  Strength. Simple joy. Get it done mentality. And all the while with a smile that pinches up her face and renders her eyes mere slits...

And the next step of this journey begins today - with a new STEP on a NEW HIP...

The "bionic woman" is gonna "motate"!

78: naked and unashamed

When the CRAZY phone call came last week , it alerted us to trouble.

Making a late morning call, I was stunned to find my "always-early-riser" Aunt still in bed "her time" - 1 hour ahead of us.   She, who is notorious for rising at the crack of dawn was still in bed at noon.  An immediate visit was in order.

While traveling the 1 hour-on-a-clear-day jag to my Aunt's, I tried to prepare myself for what I would be finding when I got there.  I knew she had hurt her leg. I didn't know how badly.  I knew it had been "a few days ago".  I knew she was diagnosed with  DEMENTIA last October, but we had already seen many, many signs of memory loss  that popped up randomly-unexpectedly-inappropriately.

Now, a half an hour away, I reflected on her history - her roots in her town & what had been so familiar & comforting to her. What had now become a "prison" to her...

She's been a great tenant. Sharing a 2-flat historic home on red-brick streets 2 blocks from Lake Michigan in scenic mid-America, for the last almost-30-years, she has always shoveled the sidewalks, the driveway and the porch on this old home.  Younger families moving in and out of the lower flat, she's remained - having lived up stairs - up MANY stairs all those years, having traveled a steep, dark stair well for so long that her delicate fingers have smoothed out once-rough, now oh-so-familiar and friendly handrails that guide her up counted/memorized/visualized steps to her door.

She's been housebound for weeks. Although she earnestly claims her fall  - from shoveling the driveway for the landlord (she's 78 for pete'sake!) was "3 days ago" - a friend took her to the chiropractor on Feb 3rd AFTER weeks of pain.

We didn't know.

We've communicated NUMEROUS times with her.  I don't know if she was trying to protect her younger sister from worrying (my mom) or if she was merely forgetting to talk about it.

When I arrived, care packages in hand, she called me in - sitting on her new pastel sofa- bright eyed and oh-so-tiny and worked so hard to stand and give me a "proper greeting".  Dressed in her church finest - struggling to get up off the couch and grabbing the walker loaned to her by her neighbor "yesterday", she slowly, carefully, painfully moved to the kitchen, gingerly sat at the table and watched expectantly as I unloaded my packages.  En route, I had called her to see if I could pick up anything specific for her.  "Honey, if you don't mind, could you pick up a hamburger?  I haven't eaten today, yet." (3:00 p.m. HER time)

I joined her as she ate from a collection of all the favorite things I could think of - like a child given free reign at a dessert table. Joy. Delight. Starvation.  Without trying to - she has lost from 155 to 107 in 6 months.  Now I know why.  She's forgetting to eat.

I broke inside - wondering how long had it been since she'd eaten. Why didn't I know? Why didn't I make the effort? How could I love someone so much and not care enough to know - to call - to check in - to ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS - to care enough.  Regardless of my issues with my mom , this is my precious aunt, my family - and I am her power of attorney...

Throughout our visit, I approached touchy subjects with her. At one point she met my look and locked in - eye to eye: " I want you to know, I pray every night.  I thank God for my good life. I pray every morning when I wake up. I thank Him for my good life. This morning when I talked with Him, I asked him what I should do today.  He told me to 'take it easy', so I did. He really told me. I've had a great life.  I've experienced more than most people. I've traveled and done things some never will. I have no regrets. I tell Him I am ready to go." 

The intensity, the impact of those words disarmed me.  She was there.  Real and "present" and "current"  (I now understand the difference in the two). Immediately after, the "new her" returned, innocent, childlike, repetitive... it may have been fleeting, but I know it was real.

Trying to support her - 1 hour away (on a good day) is going to be so difficult. Hoping her desire to "caregive" her sister would overrule her resistance to move, to change - I tried to encourage her to take time to visit- I would be her wheels - take time now while they both know each other. She repeatedly asserted that "I'm not bad yet, I'm independent, I can take care of myself". Must have heard that 20 times.

Preparing to leave she caught me off guard by asking: "do you think you could help me into my pj's? I have a hard time getting my leg into the bottoms".  Happy to oblige this fiercely-independent creature, I stepped 6 feet away into the bathroom & returned to find a 78 year old little girl, sitting naked as a jaybird on the couch, ready for "mommy" to dress her. (how did she raise her leg? did she forget she hurt?)

I've never seen 78 and naked.

She was beautiful.  Her naked, little girl, 107 pound self sitting there so innocently, so trustingly, only her wrinkled face betraying her age.  Her innocence was beautiful.

And heartbreaking.

I dressed her.

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                  "I won't."

Kissed her goodbye.

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                 "I won't.  Surely love you, I'll call you tomorrow & see you next week!"

"Love you, honey. Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                         "I won't. Bye! Love you!"   

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                  "I won't."
            

Walked numbly down the steep, dark stairwell.
Drove off into the night, leaving her to fend for herself.
While I returned home to assist my parents.
While she sits there.
Little.
Alone.
Ready to go.
Forgetting to eat.
Forgetting her present.

Remembering to remind all, not to lock the porch door but...

Forgetting her very self.

of cackles, guffaws and powers of attorney...

"She hurt her leg shoveling. (laugh, hahaha) Well, actually she hurt her leg because she forgot to turn it when her body turned"  (hahaha!) She lies alot (hee hee ha ha)  She is the sweetest thing and doesn't lie at all (hahahaha) Oh, and by the way, who's her power of attorney? I want to help her in her checkbook. (haha ho ho ho, cackle, etc.)"

Above is a segment of a recent conversation to my folks.  Call came in late one night from someone they knew only by name - laughing uncontrollably, speaking sluggishly -as if drunk- bellowing rudely in the calm night with the intentions of helping her buddy (the sister, my aunt) because she's getting "senile".

And who, exactly, needs help here?

I'd say when a "getting senile" friend of a "getting rapidly senile" aunt is calling to get help for said friend/aunt - that said aunt must be in a whole lot of down-hill memory, functioning sliding.  Auntie is 1 hour away (on a clear day) and who has never had a roommate, nor spouse, nor anyone to give & take with.  You know how families do.  Sacrifice.  Compromise.  All the stuff that grows us into people who live within community.

She lives alone. Always has.  Always wanted to.  Still wants to.

When do I (power of attorney) intervene?  Is there a SIGN?  hmmm this call from senility about senility just could be a doozy.  Ya think? 

And just HOW do I intervene?  Traveling every week for a day of bookkeeping/stuff is do-able.  What about when she forgets how to climb back upstairs to her apartment.  What about when she gets lost (again) driving to a 30+ years of traveling to a familiar place and no one knows how to reach her because she refused, yelled, stamped her feet when given a new-fangled-cell-phone- for Christmas 2 years ago.

Independent. to a fault. independent, nonetheless.

My feeble attempt to connect and earn her trust for her future begins this week.
My strategy is to see where on her "caregiver" chart her heart is, these days.  If, indeed, she 's still the same "adoptive momma" to us nieces & nephews, then I've got some people who  would benefit from her "care".  People here.  Hopefully I can inspire her to be "utilized" - to come here to help take care of her sister (my mom) and my uncle. (widower) Move here - close by.

Hmm.  The best laid plans are merely IDEAS. Ideas sometimes merely equal an empty plastic grocery bag swirling around in the whirlwind... The next few days will show just how feasible this all is.  In the mean time I become a "parent" to this beauty and carefully guide and instruct - all the while trying to balance respect for my beautiful elder and care for this ever-increasingly-becoming-woman-child.

For those who wish to be young again - careful what you wish for.

My hero is 79 today.

Heroes come in all shapes and ear sizes...

I am the daughter of this man - my hero- and I am so proud.

This is a man that could do anything he put his mind to. Who was only limited by the always-too-fast-decending shadows of nightfall yet held tightly to the hope of another day with more to do.

More than merely mentoring, this man's legacy to his family has been rich with layers of growth: inquisitive mind -exploring- questioning- looking for a better way, a simpler way, a re-design of an old design or a new, brand-new design of something to make a hobby more fun, or high-rise-dwellers safer in case of fire and the need for rapid/safe escape or to make a repair easy with what was on hand...

My father is the kind of man who would take his family to the park: not to play on swings or picnic.  Oh no.  My father is the man who would take his family to the park to witness him: bubbling with excitement - strapping on the safety harness, much like a mountain climber ready to begin ascent to the summit of his "peak of dreams"... he is the man who, rung by rung, each one met with more excitement the the last, successfully climbed up the city water tower (yes, 'tis true)... attaching his fire escape invention to the top ladder rung, and proceeded to test his invention's performance by oh-so-carefully-slowly- lowering himself to the ground - hanging off the side of the tower - oblivious to anything other than the pure joy, the delight and peter-pan-passion (always the glimmer of the boy in his eyes) living a fairy-tale-come- true  moment right in front of us! It worked! And he wasn't arrested! And people's lives were going to be saved!  And it worked!!

He is the man who delights in sharing jokes for the 101st time and each time just as hilarious as the time before and each time accompanied with crinkled-invisible eyes dancing with joy at the buried-treasure hilarity.  This is a man whose rugged, lined face rich with experience, more often than not, softens at the thought of his children... and his children's children... and the joy of the truth of the love passed through generations this joy communicates to well-used tear ducts the need to spill over their banks - yet once again -  upon thoughts of great-grand-baby-love's newest interest (papa tractor!) or sharing inside joke-ery with his beloved, my momma - with words more unsaid than said- between them. Their language of love and of life so oft unspoken, yet known and well-worn like a favorite pair of brown leather shoes - the ones that wrap oh-so-familiarly around your foot, as if you slipped them on when the chocolate was warm and sweet and thick and it cooled to exact-foot-fit proportions.

This man is driven to love - driven by the love of his Lord to love others.

Passionate.
Fiercely protective.
Often and freely gifts his love to strangers who may or may not be worthy of it, but are reciepients, nonetheless.

Today, February 3, 2008 this man is 79.

I am honored to be his daughter.
I'm honored to share pieces of his nature.  Nice way of saying I have his "hard head" : he loves to call me a "chip off the old block-head"!!! I'm proud to carry on the blood line with his "Allen ears" that he's worn so proudly and I've worked so hard to cover up! I'm proud to have learned to find a bargain and see that bargain as an INVESTMENT and buy them all to sell later! (smile!)

I'm honored to be his daughter - from sitting on his shoulders as a little girl- to rebuilding front porches on office buildings - to sharing hopes and concerns of the future with tender, almost secretive / knowing looks... (changes...changes...)

I read this poem recently, by Stanley Kunitz ---how I saw Dad in it's pictures...

Touch Me, from Collected Poems   
Stanley Kunitz

Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.
What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
and it’s done.

So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes
and the house timbers creak.
Darling, do you remember
the man you married? Touch me,
remind me who I am.

On this, his 79th birthday, I am most inspired by his DESIRE, DESIRE, DESIRE - the longing for the dance of this glorious life- to:

Love God
And because he loves God so passionately and so tenderly... he

Loves Man
And because he loves God so passionately and tenderly, that naturally  makes him love man so deeply and he's driven to...

Speak with the world
Help the world
Love the people of the world
And do anything and everything possible to
Serve the world... (because God so loved the world that He sent His Son...)

Thanks, Papa, for living the faith life right in front of me and my children.  Thank you for being a strong example of hope, and trust and good moral values.  Thank you for showing what to look for in a husband by being a faithful, loving, protective husband to mom.  Thank you for parenting, for sometimes over-parenting and for being driven, by love, to serve your family. Thank you for the countless times you've sacrificed for your family.  For each job you worked to provide.  For each hour you spent away from home to put food on the table and give your family a warm place to dwell.  Thank you for teaching me how to shoot a gun at targets, for treating me like a PERSON not "just a girl", for trusting me and for your FRIENDSHIP.  I love you, dad.  Thanks for "this dance"... Oh, and Pop, I still won't break.

Happy Birthday, with love...

What I'm painting, lately...

When I'm upset my mind FLOWS. Colors thick, dark, ominous and slippery, clogging on my brush like an elmer's glue and chocolate mixture.

Painting easily.  Painting ugly.

When I'm struggling, or upset, words form, all too easily, thoughts spurt into messy spray, like an early spring thaw that render the streets wet and muddy and newly-washed-in-celebration-of-warmer-days-to-come-salty-vehicles that shudder free of their winter crust like a wet dog, only to be defiled by an unseen, MUDDY water-filled pot hole - that sends it's grimy, day-old-coffee-offering up the fenders and windshields, while wiper blades smush and groan in effort to clean it's formerly pristine crystal... clouding the picture, once again...

(drive clean car through nasty mud puddle = dirty car )

Okay so I still have words.
Lots of words.

But, the fact remains, when I'm deeply charged they flow from a deeper well.

Days of sunny-delight, of peace and comfort and joy, and snuggly-bug, cozy family, friends and lap doggy kisses - are those rare times when silence is golden.  Lazy naps.  Leisurely strolls. Calm.  Blessed assurance. Painting blue skies and chirping birds - la, la, la.

But I'm finding in these la,la,la moments that my goal is to cherish the peace - not take it for granted and waste it.  Those beautiful nuggets of peace I think I should value more. Appreciate more. Be "present" more - IN the peace. The difference between swimming and floating.  Pro-active peace.  Is there such a thing? 

Grateful for peace.
A conscious attitude of thankfulness that motivates my thoughts and actions.
Blessed tidbits.
Morsels.
"Taste and see that the Lord is good..." Psalm 34:8a New International version

Tasting is an action. Experience. Doing.

In consciously "experiencing" peace, my hope, my ultimate goal is to show honor and gratitude to Him who, alone, gives me true peace, lasting peace in the very midst of the storms of life.

(and ooo, baby are there ever storms!!!)

I long to create thoughts from a place of calm reflection. Deep-smooth, so clear-you-can- -see-the-bottom- pool... where tree roots grow deeper, deeper reaching for nutrient-rich soil and tree limbs grow taller, stronger from being well watered and well fed...
Hmmm... Psalm 1:

1 Happy is the man who does not walk in the way sinful men tell him to, or stand in the path of sinners, or sit with those who laugh at the truth.

2 But he finds joy in the Law of the Lord and thinks about His Law day and night.

3 This man is like a tree planted by rivers of water, which gives its fruit at the right time and its leaf never dries up. Whatever he does will work out well for him.       

"God, you know my rising up and laying down - and every moment, each thought in between.  I want less of me, more of You and whatever it takes to make that happen.  OUCH, that's a frightening thing to ask for - I know enough to know that I'd better not ask for something if I don't really want it - I know You'll provide the means and the OPPORTUNITY to learn these lessons - and so often it's through pain.

Looking at my family - pain.  Joy mixed with pain. Heart ache.  Heart break.  Changing. Transforming. Deteriorating. Regenerating.  Each person dealing with their own issues, and each one holding a place in my heart. Nonetheless, YOU love each one more than I ever possibly could. So I choose, again, and again to trust You. To lay them at your feet.  Grandbaby love, and sons & daughter love, and marriage love and parent love and ministry love... I lay it all... and I choose to look to You.  again. to lean on You- again.

Lord, You're so worth it. You're faithful.  You're the CONSTANT in an ever-changing land. So I'm leaning on You, resting in You and, in doing so, I'll be growing more like You.

So, dear Lord, it's the Big Picture, this "Masterpiece" of life, THAT's the one I long for You to paint in me and through me...

...and so I learn another brush stroke...  Thank You."   Amen.

I Scream for I Scream!

Nope, no typo there.

Scream.

Scream.   inside scream.  outside a wee bit scream... a widdle bit...

A day, today, of trying to ease life for others:
    -one person's fear issues (where? when? why? where again? are you sure? where?)
    -ease one person's allergic to animal in house- please disinfect it for me issues
    -ease one person's packing/travel/snack issues
    -ease one person's filing - I can't remember what I was doing, what is this and where do I put it?      
        issues
    -ease one person's running out of clean underwear issues and the dryer doesn't work (hard to INSTANT
        DRY COTTON briefs - I don't care how high you have the blow dryer)

... and I'm looking at the word "issues" and it looks wrong.  Why do correctly-spelled words look wrong sometimes? Like the word "please" or "me" or any simple, normal word, but to me right now it all looks wrong?  and could it be stress?  could it be busy, busy, busy and I'm going to explode any moment?  again?  like at a person who doesn't deserve it.  like a son who does 15 year 11 month old son-type-things, as sons do, and it JUST WAS THE LAST- THE VERY LAST STRAW and I explode - but didn't cuss (this time) because I was at least choosing to have some-minute-form-of-control- so as to TRY to be a Godly  example to this man-child...

-and it's only 2:52 p.m. and so much left to do...
-and, already I feel a little better...
-taking time to process...

Lord, I guess I'm grateful that I'm capable of doing so many things for so many.  You made me capable of doing quite a bit of stuff - some of it quite cool.  When it all piles up, like it has been over the past week - I too often fail to turn it over to You in the moment-to-moment.  All too often it's in the "too late - done blown a gasket" way, or when it's already to the point that my mind or body or combination, thereof, breaks down in some way FORCING me to take a breather.

You alone, are ALL things to ALL people.  Help me say "no" or "not right now" or "okay" but when YOU ordain it so.  As you lead, help me hear You better - I will work at choosing to listen and obeying - BEFORE meltdown or before crash and burn.  I can't be as effective as You'd like me to be when I'm doing to much in my own strength.  Forgive me for racing through this week planting myself in too big of a "pot" --- you alone can fill that sized thing... I'm quite scrawny on my own...

Okay, Lord, thank You and lead me into GREEN PASTURES where there is YOUR peace...

AHHHHHH... now that's better...

Nobody Home. (or "same body - different mind")

Aunt Mary Lou.

Always single.
Offered me my first puff of cigarette @ age 17.
Spanked my butt when I needed it.
Planned to travel to Hawaii with me (we never did)
Laughs till her eyes scrunch up & they disappear.
Laughs so deeply nothing comes out of her but TEARS and maybe a little pee.
Loves generously- too generously - to a fault.
Has traveled from Southwest Michigan to our area (1 hour trip) EVERY MAJOR HOLIDAY, every year, since 1972.
Except this Christmas...

1st time since 1972 we've not spent Christmas together. Eating her apple-cake ("splenda-ized" for me and so full of nuts that it barely holds together. yummm), exchanging re-gifts, hugging her shrinking-little self and kissing oh-so-soft skin...

A couple of years ago I had a "warning! rough road ahead " feeling when I detected some shocking memory lapses. Combined with some interesting lapses in judgment (decorum) I had this nagging suspicion that aging was not being kind to her.

Having been told, this year,  by her physician that "I see you have dementia" - (oh my, don't get me started on his  "bedside manner"  -  prior post) - that dreaded word that wreaks havoc to families - and destroys  adulthood, often rendering it's victims  helpless, fearful and childlike --- I've come to realize that this amazing woman would  be facing some unbelievable challenges in the near future.

Stink.

What that really means is that she is living alone in an old house, renting the upstairs apartment.  Thats 2 levels of stairs up.  2 levels of stairs down.
She shops alone.
She drives alone.
She's alone to forget how to get to her sister's house.
The one she's been traveling to - alone- since 1972.
She's alone when she stops and asks how to get to where she's forgotten she's going.
She's alone when she trusts and follows a stranger to the right exit.
She's alone when she gets off the exit and doesn't remember where to turn next.
And she's alone when she carries this secret - does she really carry it? or has she forgotten she forgot?...she's alone when she sits at her sister's house - Thanksgiving- and seems so different - so very different... and laughs inappropriately, and causes her sister to worry about being out in public with her for fear of being embarrassed by her for inappropriate behavior.
She's alone, she has no children and no one to live by close to help her when she forgets to eat and drops weight from 145 to 109 in one year's time.
She's alone, 60 miles away, and refuses to move closer.
And I've become her power-of-attorney.
And I'm scared.
For her.
For me.
What do I do now?

He.
He is my dad's brother.
He has been widowed 2 Christmases now. (1.25 years)
He travels around town visiting doctors and nurses, all those he's had contact with through the years - visiting, not because he is ill (though often, he is), but visiting because he's lonely. So lonely. He visits technicians who scanned him, andMRI'd him and took blood from him.
Because he's lonely.
He tells stories of pain and surgeries and of Arby's salads that have fruit and meat and are too big to eat in one meal.
He brags on sweet potato casseroles he gets as "care package" post holiday-meal, and swears it's the best he's ever tasted and he packs his deceased wife's previously oft-used make-up mirror and boxes it and wraps it and hands it to a great-niece who oh-so graciously says: "Thank you! I'll use this, for sure!" and we watch as his face lights up with joy that this beautiful young wife & mother has given him the best gift - she received his yellowed-white-plastic love gift.
He doesn't hear, but he speaks much.  Speaks as one who desperately needs to be listened to.  His ears work fine, but he doesn't hear.  Selective in focus. Mid conversation he interjects, irritating his brother no end, and keeps interjecting because he needs to be heard. Much to say, no one to listen.
And he walks gingerly, cautiously so as not to fall again. Two times in 2 weeks is really 2 times too many. But, because of his wobbly gait, certain to fall again.
And he, childless, "adopts" any younger person who is kind, or shows attention as his "own child".  And in "adopting" so casually, opens himself up to users, thieves, connivers who set to gain "fortune" from his eventual misfortune.  (they will be surprised - his generosity has dwindled their future "swindle")
And I am his power-of-attorney.
And I'm scared.
For him.
For me.

Crap.
Doo-doo.
Stink.

Between my own aging parents and these precious two, my world swirls around me at breakneck speed.

THESE PEOPLE NEED HELP ATTENTION AND FOOD THESE PEOPLE FORGET TO EAT AND TAKE MEDICATION AND WHAT DAY AND OR MONTH IT IS OR HOW TO TIE A SHOE OR WHAT WORD THEY'RE LOOKING FOR OR THAT THEY JUST TOLD YOU THE SAME STORY 5 TIMES AND YOU SMILE AND CRY A LITTLE INSIDE BECAUSE IT KILLS YOU TO SEE THIS TO KNOW THIS AND...

How do I achieve balance?  Their increasing needs and the needs of my soon-to-turn-16-year-old son, and 17-years-and-counting-oh-so-patient-husband? My eldest son-wife-child - my loves... Where do they fit in now - with the needs of these precious aged-ones? 
How much do I do?
How much should I do? 
Where do I draw the line? 
Is there even a line?
How do I make the "hard" decision for those who are losing their capability to make such decisions for themselves?
How do I shift roles from "child" to "adult" with these elders I am to respect?
Is there a club?

Hi.  My name is_______ and I am an adult child taking care of older-becoming-increasingly-childlike- adults at the price of neglecting my own home.

Hi __________.  We do too.  We get you.   We live there, too.

Maybe I should advertise & start a support group.

Never mind. I'd just have to find another hour that doesn't exist... and that's too much like work. So in the meantime, I'll just do it, because, after all, loving family takes care of each other. I just pray that my attitude finds "healthy", that my husband understands and loves me - even though I'm exhausted and oft-invisible - that my teenage boy gets enough of me to know I adore him and that I spend enough PRESENT time with my grand-baby-love that he KNOWS WHO I AM and how much I adore him.

Bottom line... I feel so weak.  So limited.  Incapable.

And guilty.

Guilty because I'm whining.

And ticked.

Ticked because I dislike, hate really, whiners. And I am one. I've become what I hate. and I hate that. And, again, I hate, that I hate because hate is such a stinking strong emotion that it makes me tired and weaker. And we don't say "hate" . And I'm caught up in a tornado and the winds are whipping around me and there is devastation and I just want to sleep, just a little peaceful sleep and watch a movie and not think about this stuff, cuz it's weighing so heavily on my heart & mind and I ache and am useless when i ache and I'm 51 not 15 I should be able to handle this stuff and why can't I? and why am I feeling so stinkin' sad and weak?

Dang.  Didn't even take a "breath".  That about sizes it up.

Christ said when I am WEAK then - through HIM I can be strong. I really need strong. Badly.

I know I have come to a place of needing to make a choice. It's entirely up to me to make this choice. If I willfully CHOOSE to GAZE at the Peacegiver and GLANCE at the tornado-circumstances - maybe I WOULD find PEACE - the gift already offered to me - but I've been too busy looking at the whirlwinds of the TORNADO and not seeking the EYE of the storm - where calm winds and peace are just waiting for me.

"Oh God.  Today I'm crying out to You. I cannot possibly all things to all men. You, alone, can. Please help me be what You want me to be - nothing more-nothing less... and give me strength and DESIRE to find balance.   And, oh God, in the middle of all of this storm - help me receive your supernatural  PEACE... Oh, I need Your peace - if even for the next 5 minutes - and then 5 more minutes at a time... help me RECEIVE - do my part - actually RECEIVE Your perfect peace...  like You said in your word  "I will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is kept on Me"... Help me "keep my mind" on You... and Lord, help me BE an INSTRUMENT of YOUR peace to others..."

For the record, Lord, I most likely will pray this prayer HUNDREDS of times.Of, course, You know that, because You know me - all about me.  Yes, I recognize it's a choice.  Making that choice is so hard.  The awesome thing about You, God, is that you love me as I am - as one who struggles to make the hard choice - and as one who prays IN FAITH that ONE DAY she may really, really mean what she's asking - but, for now, she's asking because she's trying to make the choice to lay it all down and LEAVE it all down.  And yet, You love me, anyway.

Wow.  The REAL point is - YOU love THEM.  You Love these, Your elder children - You love them AS THEY ARE and You help THEM and You comfort THEM.  Please be ever close to THEM and help me see them through YOUR eyes...

...help me SEE through Your eyes... see my life, these circumstances and see HOPE through Your eyes..."

Ah - ha.  It's just about trusting You for the NEXT STEP.  That's all.  Just the NEXT STEP.  Okay, Lord... let's do this thing..."  (the next, and the next and the next...together...)

Who am I?! No, really...

8:30 am sitting here at computer after having scanned the huge-o-mongo Sunday paper/sales ads and have become numb to input, numb to outflow (ain't none) and numb to numb.

8:31 still here...

8:32 yep,still here...

Normal Sunday mornings find me @ 8:00am plugging in my ear monitors- #9, grabbing my hand-held wireless microphone-#3 and stepping either downstage left or stage right and warming up with one of the most amazing bands imaginable.  The kind of musicians that would make American Idol #'s 1 - 4 swoon with desire at their professional abilities.  Good band.  Good stinkin' band.  I'm a singer in a good band. I've been with a configuration of this band for 12 years. Fun. Good times. Cool.

So here I am, Sunday morning, having CHOSEN to take this morning off, and I don't know what to do with myself.  This relaxing down time is so foreign.

I've learned to consider myself as a "gap-filler":
def: Gap-Filler:
         I see a "hole" somewhere and I "fill it".
         A need: I try to fulfill it.
         A mess: I see to clear it.
         A project: I do it.
         A song:  I write it (or try) or sing it or provide the idea, in the least.
         A script: I write it, cast it and direct it.  Or used to.
         A missed detail: I see it and do it or somehow make certain that SOMEONE completes it.

Yep.  A gap filler.

Retired from drama a month ago - 20 years of teaching, leading, directing, instructing, personality-gingerly-drawing pictures using people to play other people and creating emotions , thoughts, scenes to result in walls being dropped, guard being dropped, something, even PROPS being dropped - all for the sake of theater in the church  - done with excellence and with authenticity ...

So this Christmas season, having retired, I find myself fiddling my thumbs.  Better than sitting on them, perhaps, but quite foreign.

Then choosing to take off from the Worship Team (cool band from opening) for a weekend - one weekend, I find myself grappling with my identity.

Who am I now?

It's all too easy to attach our identity to what we do- what we create- what we do.  Our field of reference often determines how we classify or justify or identify ourselves.

Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a singer in a cool band.
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a drama director (who sees layers and the how to do)
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a passionate awareness gal (breast cancer, aging, etc)
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a mom
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a wife... a daughter ... a hard worker...a good friend...a poor friend... a messy housekeeper... a good cook... and on and on.

8:48 am still here and trying to figure out "what's next"...

Is there a project?  I'm project minded.  I'm fueled by the desire to create and prepare and complete. When do I "be still and know"?

What REALLY defines me? 
WHO really defines me?

When my value, my idea of who I am become so defined by "what I do" rather than "whom I serve" - my whole being becomes an instrument of self.  Self aware at the sake of God aware will kill me.

8:51am  still here, but not for long.

"Lord, I am YOURS.  I desire You.  I long to be defined by how closely I resemble You.  I want to be recognized as Your kid, well loved, well "fed" and created in YOUR image.  The things I do or say or think or feel or create - all for YOUR glory and in YOUR image.  I wanna be like You."

8:58 and I'm outta here.  Gotta get ready for church.  Gonna LISTEN to a great band as they lead me into worshiping the One I so desire to be like.  Gonna LISTEN to the preacher as he teaches about the One who loves me and created me to love him.

I was created to love.

Who am I?

Judy, a King's kid, well -loved.

...and I'm ready for bed.

These days they are a flyin'
My mind she is a racin'
My heart she is a breakin'
And I'm ready for bed.

Use to be my "go to" was chocolate or even better CHOCOLATE FUDGE WALNUT BROWNIES.  Now, all too often my "go to" is  "sleep".

Clarification.

I actually don't really sleep much.   5ish hours per night.   About a 5 min POWER nap daily.  That's it.  Play catch up every 3 weeks or so - actually get in 6 - 7 hours... but mostly 5.

Yet, these days I've found myself filling up with so many "TO's" that truly "being IN the moment" and processing each moment - escapes me. And escaping me protects me from feeling too deeply: hurting too deeply, grieving too deeply, even loving too deeply. (spread so thin)

I liken that to sleep.  There but not "present".  My current "TO" list - note: far BROADER than a mere "to DO" list - DO is a GIVEN...

To think: process me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To plan: me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To remind: me, them, us, we, them
To go: for, because, now, later, always 
To  research:  for, because, now, later, always, too much
To walk:  away, to, from, slowly, briskly, far, farther
To organize: me. 
To help:  them, them, them, them 
To love: better, practically, emotionally, attached, fully, unconditionally 
To purpose:  to squeeze life while life is squeezable.

I'm not a cancer survivor.
I'm not an elder with failing memory.
I'm not an elder with low, low, low vision.
I'm not a spouse watching my spouse decline-right before my eyes.
I'm not a teenager feeling alone: brilliant, funny, left-out.
I'm not a husband struggling to manage - with vision- yet limited by others.
I'm not a church leadership with bruises.
I'm not a daughter-in-love pulled from every direction as wife, mother, business-woman, friend, daughter.
I'm not an adult son struggling to be healthy, to plan for the future of his family while his hands, his WAY TO MAKE A LIVING, are killing him.
I'm not - no I'm not.

But I am me.

And me is a child of The One who holds and deeply loves all those in ways I cannot.  And He offers me peaceful sleep - it's up to me to receive it.  (Thank You...)

Do I hear "naptime"!"

You've got dementia...

Aunt Mary Lou - cutie pie with her head by my shoulder.  Mom's older sister.
Mary  was the kind of aunt that would sneak you a puff of her cigarette and giggle and say "just one, honey, it's not good for you".  The kind of aunt that became a second momma.  Never married.  No kids, just us nieces and nephews.

Mary Lou was an executive secretary to big shot at Whirlpool in Benton Harbor for over 30 years.  Tough as nails. Used to handling life and handling people.  Told men in the office where to get off, what to do, and often where to stick it. :) 

Mary Lou lived large.   Loved large.  Hurt deeply. 

Many years ago, she was dating a fella, grew to love him and hoped for a future with him.  Mary had emergency appendectomy and while she was in the hospital, "fella" married somebody else.

Nice guy.

Nice guy ran into Mary MANY years later and wife was an invalid and he was lonely (horn-toad) and wanted to "rekindle" the romance with Mary.

She had wanted to build a life with this man.  This was a test.

She passed!

She told me she had told him to "S _ _ _ w himself" and NO way, and other choice words.  Bottom line, she valued herself enough to say NO.  I'm so stinking proud of her!

Witty, laughing till tears stream down her eyes, those eyes so often look lost now.  Those of us who have the privilege of seeing her 5 - 6 times a year have seen the changes -rapid changes.  Last year she couldn't remember 4 of the 6 visits.

We all knew.  Now she knows.

Going to the doctor, test after test, Mr. Professional, SENSITIVE Doctor-Guy says (while looking at test results) " I see you have dementia."

Like he was telling her the Strep test came back positive... Like he was telling her that her blood pressure was too high...   Like telling her: "oh, and by the way, you parked in the wrong spot"...

Moron.

And, just for clarification, because she's single, she was alone. ALONE.  BY HERSELF.   At the doctor's office, undergoing testing, and hearing a word that rattled her world.  Alone and being told her mind was slipping.   Alone to process, to grieve, to wonder...to wander.

Does she have presence of mind to really get it?  Can the whole picture be realized?  Living alone. Doing alone?  How do you function in this world by yourself, when your mental world changes and you don't even know it is changing?

So she lives alone - she refuses to move closer - or "in" with family. She does laundry - down 45 stairs (2 stories) and up 45 stairs.  She drives.  She shops. She maneuvers through town... with dementia.

My mind is a whirlwind of "what can I do?" and these days are being filled with helplessness AND "just do it" whatever "it" is, just do SOMETHING, anything to help.

And so I go drink another cup of coffee.

Who is this? she's a hoot!!!

Her hair crowns her head like a glimmery, silvery halo: slightly over-parted too far left, and bangs dangling a bit too close to her dim eyes, but so white - so pure.

Reflects the nature of her heart.

3ish Springs ago, a stroke played havoc in her brain.  Could have been far more severe, yet we discovered, who she was had been altered - forever altered.  This was a new day.  A new dawn - a new mom. A new sister.   A new wife. 

My mom who, quite prude-ishly wouldn't say the word "pregnant"  - now freely referred to body parts by slang and would giggle, eyes scrunched up & tears flowing in glee. Young girl giggling in an elder body.

So cute.  So full of life.  Kind.  So inappropriately laughing at the weirdest times.  So strange...

Putting family first, always -that didn't change.  Her outlook.  Now THAT is what changed.

(L - R  Aunt Mary Lou, Me & My MOMMA!)

My mother had always, always, always purposed to look people straight in the eye: honoring others, demonstrating integrity and the fact that she "had nothing to hide".  She taught us kids, early on, to look directly into eyes - that honesty can be read by the eyes, after all they are "the windows to the soul you know."

One day, Momma said she was not going to drive again.  Ever.  Independent creature she was, was not going to ever, ever drive again. She had been harboring a secret: a deep, very dark secret, for awhile.  Months later, the low vision specialist called it "macular dystrophy".  Different than macular degeneration - it was from birth, just now manifesting itself to the level of "legal blindness" (took DECADES to get to this level).

No central vision.  Yes- Peripheral.  No central.

How do you look people in the eye, if you can't see their eyes?

She had hidden the changes as long as she could, hoping for healing, hoping a change in diet would make the difference - holding on to independence for as long as she could.

The pile of gravel in the road - same color as the road - was the "seal the deal".  Bottoming out on the gravel, the men at the construction site, helped her off the pile, helped her turn the car around, and she drove back - 10 houses away to the driveway - never to drive again.

Later, much later we found out.  My life, busy, stupid busy (single mom at the time) and I didn't know for months that she had not driven.

I had already watched my mom shift and change from full-sighted -professional- bookkeeper-of- family-business to someone who had to learn to feel her way - memorize her way around the house... Now her low vision was coupled with brain damage.

Crap.

I'm sure there are books to warn adult children about the changes their elder parents will go through, but I wouldn't have read it and it wouldn't have mattered a whole heck of a lot - then.

Now, well, now is now.. and now we live in the moment , for the moment, celebrating each precious moment.

It still stinks.  Sucks actually.  (I hate that term.  But dang is it appropriate)

Dad.  Dad is so amazing.  I watch him love her and snuggle her and hold hands with her.  I watch them smooch - her with her lips scrunched up to her nose (so "sexy" haha) and him, giggling all the way in for the peck, touching -oh-so-familiar, now wrinkled lips like he has a million times before.  Now they kiss with a tenderness reserved for those who are choosing to be present in this moment, almost as if they're saying:  " we must be present in this moment.  This moment is a gift and we are going to relish it , and drink it in, and celebrate it - because you never know when..."

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Not them and their beauty.

The "you never know when". Actually, only initially -  Being faced with mortality - their mortality has awakened me to a new day. I battle between celebrating the present and dreading the future.  The future without them in it.

I KNOW they will be in a "better place".  Oh yeah!!

But I know the "crowns of glory" that I love to observe - daily, will be oh, so missed.  So very missed.

I want my grandbaby to see the smooches between them and groan and say "gross" and smile inside at how cool it is to know them.

I want my sons to hear all the stories another 10 times - and know that they have become part of the next generation of love...

But the reality is, I've spent too much time on this blog - time that would be better spent giggling at Mom's wacky sense of humor and listening to Dad's "this is so funny I can barely get it out without laughing my own hiney off"  jokes!

So for now this "new" mom is MY mom - I love her and all her facets, new and older... she's cool!

Wonder what's made her giggle today?