God, Mom, Alzheimer's, and Me

Sound Logic

2012-01-29T20:18:00.000-08:00

The following interchange reveals why one should never argue with one's mother, whether she has Alzheimer's (as mine does) or not:

Mom: Would you get me a diet coke?

Linda: The dentist says that the acid in the diet coke has hurt your teeth and that you shouldn’t have any for 4 hours before you brush your teeth at bedtime.

Mom: (aggravated) How old am I?

Linda: 87

Mom: (disgusted) Exactly how much longer do you people think my teeth need to last?

And...

2012-01-19T08:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, no, often, I read Scripture and recognize a situation in my life that can benefit from the truths I have discovered. But once in awhile I discover a truth for myself and then find its affirmation in Scripture.

In my January 10th post entitled "How to be a Happier Caregiver" I wrote about how I'd discovered that even when my mother is unkind to me, I can emerge from interactions with her feeling content IF I discipline my tongue and respond to her in love. This morning I happened to read the New Living Translation's take on Proverbs 11:17: "...your own soul is nourished when you are kind, but you destroy yourself when you are cruel."

Anyone else get a kind of an "aha moment" from that?

God bless my fellow caregivers today.

Linda

How to be a Happier Caregiver

2012-01-10T13:47:00.000-08:00

Each time my mother takes a downward turn cognitively or exhibits some new negative behavior, I once again have to do some transition work. I think of it as being somewhat like negotiating a passage across a stream where there is no bridge, just a series of slippery rocks with waters of resentment and anger swirling around my feet.

These negative emotions are particularly dangerous traps for caregivers who are providing support to people who once supported them but are no longer able to do so. Guilt, resentment, and a critical spirit are caregiving pitfalls, and to love as we have been loved and forgive as we have been forgiven requires God’s grace.

My mother's latest behavior is to hold fast to the belief that she is not being given an adequate supply of what she needs, whether it be food, affection, or quality time. Any attempt to reason with her elicits this response, "Never mind. A senior citizen is not allowed to express an opinion." If she is rude and I remonstrate with her she says, "I was just joking. A senior citizen is evidently not allowed to joke." If she asks how long my brochures (?) say a senior citizen should be left alone, and I say I was just in 15 minutes ago; she becomes sullenly angry and says, "I should never try to tell you anything."

One cannot reason with a dementia patient. Mom is locked into her current world view. Although she has happily followed roughly the same schedule of book reading, music listening, exercise and companionship for the past eight years, she has now decided that she is being neglected.

It is a basic caregiving premise to go with the line of reasoning the patient believes to be true. When she says sarcastically, "Well, it certainly is good to finally see you," my response should be a warm smile and an affirmation that it is good to see her too--not, as I'm afraid I've done recently, an incredulous response such as this:

"Good Heavens, Mom, I've spent over an hour with you already this morning; sometimes I think nothing would make you happy but for me to spend all day and night sitting three feet from you awaiting your command!"

I ought to know better, I do know better. But it is almost impossible not to respond on an emotional level to each new dementia related behavior. I've been leaving her room unhappy and upset and my poor co-caregiver (husband John) has been getting a daily earful.

Today, I stopped and prayed as I always do before I enter Mom's room, and this time I asked specifically for God's grace to respond in love to her no matter how she came at me.

I wrote a positive message on her white board, surrounded by little hearts. I sang out "Good morning Mama!" in loving tones. When she acted grouchy toward me, I agreed with her that it sure was aggravating not to have anyone to carry her coffee to her chair, and hastened to do it for her.

This made not one whit of difference to Mom's behavior. If anything, she became more sullen. But when I left the room my mood was upbeat and happy, because I had not responded in a negative way to her despite her grouchiness.

Mom's had a physical. She does not have a UTI; she is not ill or in pain. We've analyzed her medications, we've changed her diet, we've increased her exercise. We've tried listing the timing and number of our visits on her whiteboard to no avail. She gets plenty of daily light, vitamins, fish oil, conversation, music, etc.; although your suggestions are welcome, I'm not really asking for ideas for needed changes in care. Mom's had Alzheimer's for eight years, and her recent responses have to do with the portion of her brain that is being damaged by the inevitable, irreversible progression of Alzheimer's disease. It is not her fault. She should not be remonstrated with or chastised.

As always, the needed change today was the responsibility of the caregiver. I can't tell you how light my mood has been all day. To respond in love to someone who is unloving toward us is to emulate our Lord, and that is a wonderful feeling.

A positive and kind acting caregiver does not necessarily make for a happy patient, but it does make it possible to be a happier caregiver .

Scripture: "When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your love, O LORD, supported me" (Psalm 94:18).

More Helpful Resolutions

2012-01-04T11:19:00.000-08:00

This morning I've found a list of ten Caregiving Resolutions that are substantially more helpful than the tongue in cheek comments I posted in my December 31 entry. These resolutions focus on taking care of the cargiver, and can be found here:

http://caringnews.com/pub.59/issue.1670/article.7057/

Happy New Year to my fellow caregivers. May you find courage and renewal in the sure knowledge that the Lord who led you to this place is sure to guide you through it. Remember Jeremiah 29:11 and be of good cheer! Blessings, Linda

New Year's Caregiving Resolutions

2011-12-31T09:13:00.001-08:00

My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease nearly eight years ago and has lived with us for seven of those years. I’m always amused when people say, “I couldn’t do what you have done.” The truth is that apart from divine help there’s no way I could do what I’ve done either. My theory is that since the only materials the Lord has to work with are weak and imperfect human beings that He’s sort of used to filling in the gaps. Let’s just say that with Linda wearing the title of “caregiver,” the Almighty has had His work cut out for Him.

These past eight years I’ve learned the truth of this statement: when God has a plan, we can trust that it is a good plan; and that He will help it to be implemented. It was His plan for me to become my mother’s primary caregiver, and I haven’t done the best I could, I’ve done the best that God can do through me. And so things have gone pretty well.

This is not to say that I’m not adept at blocking the Lord’s good intentions, and so I’ve written a few New Year’s caregiving resolutions:

1. I will not be jealous of my mother’s affection for the cat even though I’m pretty sure she likes the cat best.

2. When I can’t think of a word and my mother instantly supplies it for me, I will not lapse to morbid fears regarding my own cognitive functioning.

3. I will spend more time being grateful that Mom is still with us and less time worrying about when she will leave this world for the next. God is in control.

4. I will stop worrying about whether or not I will get Alzheimer’s. God really is in control.

5. I will exercise and watch my diet so that I can lessen my risk of getting Alzheimer’s, but I won’t obsess about it because God really and truly is in control.

6. I will think of new ways to make sure that Sandy (our respite caregiver) knows how much we appreciate her.

7. I will stop explaining to store clerks that the Depends I’m buying are not for me.

8. I will spend more time just sitting with my mother and enjoying her conversation, which is still witty and spiced with nuggets of wisdom.

9. I will waste less time feeling sorrow over what has been lost and more time being grateful for what we still have.

10. I will thank God daily for my co-caregiver extraordinaire, my husband, even though I’m pretty sure Mom likes him best.

On Feeling Invisible

2011-12-20T09:55:00.000-08:00

As a caregiver do you ever begin to feel invisible?

Sometimes it seems to me that my own needs, worth, dreams, and desires have become not only invisible, but unattainable; crushed beneath the weight of the needs of others. My mother, former champion of everything Linda, no longer sees me as the object of her affections; I am now the meeter of her needs. "What would I do without my Linda?" she asks, smiling seraphically. And then, "Honey would you get me some coffee (Kleenex, an afghan, some crackers, sit down and talk, come see me more often, etc. etc. etc.)?"

This is not who my mom was pre-Alzheimer's. She is not being lazy or selfish. "In Alzheimer's disease the ability to ask for help outlasts the ability to perform the multiple steps required to carry out a task for oneself." That last sentence is straight out of the PowerPoint presentation I've given to several groups in the past couple of years. I wrote those words and I know they are true.

But I am caught in that "sandwich generation" time of life, a time when I consistently am called to place the needs and desires of others above my own. Resentment and bitterness are dangerous snares for those who feel they've been made invisible through caring for others.

This morning I realized that I've once again fallen to resentment, but not toward any human being. Resentment and anger toward the Lord have crippled my walk with Him of late. I finally confessed this to Him. I feel like the middle child who is flanked by a more accomplished and worthwhile older sibling on one side and a cuter and needier baby on the other. Ignored. Invisible.

Here are the thoughts that flowed through my mind in the wake of my confession:

God knows you completely. He has accepted you, and He loves you. He loves you because you belong to Him; you were sculpted by the artist who is perfect and all He creates is good. You have resented the feeling that you are nothing apart from Him because you know you are good only because of Him. That is true, but only in the sense that a perfectly cut crystal is not beautiful if there is no light. He is your light, there is no other who can illuminate you; all other so-called lights are either counterfeit or so inferior that they are scarcely light at all. Apart from Him, you can do nothing, but in Him, you are beautiful; don't you see this precludes pride and creates gratitude? It isn't so much that you are nothing without Him as it is that you are invisible apart from Him. There is tragedy in the thought of a beautiful jewel trapped in darkness. Stretch out your arms in the warmth of God's light, and rejoice in the fact of the beauty He has provided you, beauty that is of God your creator; rejoice in what He has wrought in you by His hand, rejoice in His light.

I don't need my mother's appreciation or approval. I don't need the attention and applause of human beings at all. I can serve because I am loved by my Creator, who saw what He made and called it "good." When I abide in His light I can bask in His approval, and that's all I need.

Becoming a servant offers the opportunity for me to rid myself of pride and to emulate the Lord Jesus Christ. It means reflecting His light and giving up the attempt to shine with a light of my own. It means putting the needs of others ahead of my own. Frankly, I'm not equal to the task. But the blessed fact is that when I come to the Lord and with tears of grief over the demise of my own carefully constructed plans for the future yet say, "Thy will be done," He goes to work in my heart and mind.

Sometimes it just takes my pea brain awhile to get on the same page. I'm here, Lord, and I'm willing to be made willing to give up my rights to myself in order to be more like You.

One of those Caregiving Weeks...

2011-12-12T05:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was "one of those days" that followed immediately behind "one of those weeks" in my caregiving journey. Mom had been crotchety and critical, and my store of patience and kindness were at an all time low. I am sorry to say I had sunk to the level of feeding her bad attitude with a queen sized bad attitude of my own. I'd stopped bothering with such niceties as a cheerful smile or kind and cajoling words of encouragement and love, and thus was feeding Mom's determined belief that she was not being treated well. I told my husband that she acted as though she believed herself to be paying for service in a luxury hotel and that she was being cheated because the workers in this place just were not up to par.

Last night I went into Mom's room to deliver her evening snack. I was emptying her trash cans when I noticed she had thrown her head back in a somewhat dramatic looking pose and had one hand limply draped across her brow. I thought, "Oh for goodness sake."

"What's wrong with you?" I snapped.

She sat up straight, surveyed me and said, "I was praying for you!"

I could tell she was telling the exact truth, that she had noted my grim expression when I entered the room and had surmised that I needed prayer. She was right.

I laughed and apologized, then said, "Well, maybe you'd better continue on."

She laughed too. I was humbled by my mother's prayer for me.

Alzheimer's shrinks the world of its victims. When memories become like isolated and disconnected islands, the patient has only the moment she is in from which to draw conclusions about her circumstances. Those conclusions are going to be inaccurate much, if not most of the time. A good caregiver understands this, and ministers to the patient in the moment she is inhabiting, soothing fears and gently reshaping inaccurate impressions. This week I'll be praying for the strength and wisdom to rise above petty irritations and to be the good caregiver my mom needs!

The Fear Stops Here

2011-11-30T04:15:00.000-08:00

Note: I've posted the entry below here at my caregiving blog because it has to do with fear, and for most caregivers, learning to deal effectively with the discomfort of fear is a necessity. Fear arises because of uncertainty regarding the the future. Most of us have had to grapple with fear of falling to the same disease that has incapacitated our loved ones, and we fear being so overwhelmed by responsibility to others that our own hopes and dreams are smothered. The story below is, essentially, the story of my life as a fear filled person, and of how God has been so gentle with me. I am being gently led to freedom from fear.

I am afraid of anesthesia. The fear goes outside the normal realm of dread that precedes surgery or a medical procedure requiring sedation. I experience a physical sensation of pressure reminiscent of the feeling of the mask that was pressed over my 7-year-old face a half century ago for a tooth extraction. The hallucinations I experienced with that mode of anesthesia were so horrendous that in the months following I suffered what we now call post traumatic stress.

Since that time I've struggled with fear, and not just fear of medical procedures. Fear can't be kept in a tidy compartment; it is just extremely difficult to manage. I started out with fear of the dentist, and this expanded to include all things medical. After awhile the list of things that frightened me grew.

I've managed over the years to appear relatively calm when circumstances force me to a hospital or the dentist for treatment for myself , but the story was different when the procedures involved my children. I'll never forget my daughter's first (and thus far only) filling. She was not quite seven-years-old, approximately the same age I had been when I'd had my own negative experience in a dentist's office. Sitting in the examination room with my daughter as the dentist's drill whined, I came as near to fainting as I ever have. I was seated on a stool that had casters on the bottom, and as I lost consciousness the stool began to roll out from under me. I regained control just in time to keep myself from hitting the floor, and no one noticed my gymnastics. To make matters more interesting I was largely pregnant at the time. The office staff at that dental office never knew how close they came to having to deal with an unconscious pregnant lady blocking traffic on the examination room floor.

My children were mostly healthy growing up and neither of them needed anesthesia for surgeries or dental procedures, thankfully. But next week my 3-and-a-half year old grandson is scheduled to have his adenoids removed and ear tubes inserted.

I am amazed at the intensity of the fear I'm experiencing on my grandson's behalf. Fear does not take the Almighty God into account. I've walked with the Lord long enough to recognize the difference between a stop He's placed in my spirit and the Holy Spirit's nudge to to move forward. When I have a "move forward" signal from the Lord but nevertheless stand frozen and paralyzed with fear, I know I'm off base. That's what has happened here. Everything from expert advice to my own deep awareness of God's nudge to go ahead with this procedure have been in agreement. The only discordant note is my fear.

Shortly after my daughter told me my grandson would be undergoing this procedure, I became extremely ill with a stomach upset. The oddest thing happened as I lay on the bathroom floor in between bouts of illness; as I drifted in and out of a semi-conscious state between sleep and awake, I once again saw the terrifying hallucinations I'd suffered as a child when given anesthesia. I did not give way to fear, but held to the sure knowledge I've gained over the years that God is with me no matter what. My head hurt horribly and at one point I wondered if I was having a stroke from the stress and strain of being sick, but even that thought did not bring panic. When the illness had passed, I felt the Lord's gentle approval. I had not turned back. He'd shown me that even in the midst of suffering that I could remain true to Him. I understood that He was saying, "It is time to give up this fear that has tainted your walk for so many years." Not only is the time right, but I've finally been strengthened to the point that I am able to give up the fear. A hidden lesson here is to be very gentle with those who are afraid and weak (even if that person is you!). Being strengthened takes time, even when the strengthening process is being directed by God's hand.

As I convalesced, the Lord led me to watch two current superhero movies. I just felt this persistent nudge to watch these movies and so went ahead and paid the rental fee to watch them on pay-per-view, which I rarely do just for myself. The first, The Green Lantern, contained a quote that spoke to me, paraphrased here: "You were not chosen because you are not afraid, but because you have the courage to overcome your fears."

For the Christian, faith in Christ overcomes the power of the enemy. "This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith" (1 John 5:4). Our courage comes from belief in who He is.

I then watched Captain America. Before the hero is zapped into a buff and strong superhero type, he is short, skinny, and physically weak. As a test of character, a dummy grenade is thrown into a group of soldiers in training of which our hero is a part. The soldiers scatter but this tiny little wimp of a person falls on the grenade, curving his body around it, motioning everyone away. When I saw this scene the Lord spoke to me, "I know you are not strong, but I will enable you to contain this fear and keep it from poisoning anyone else." And so I've prayed for strength to do that. It has been hard.

A few days ago my daughter called and her voice was trembling a bit as she asked, "Do you think we are doing the right thing, Mom?"

"You are being courageous to do the right thing for Daniel although it is difficult for you," I replied. "This procedure could help him to breathe better and may prevent him from learning problems that can arise from sleeping poorly. God will bless him whether he undergoes this procedure or whether he doesn't, but the only thing that would keep us from choosing the path of greater blessing is our fear. How much better to place our trust in the Lord and move forward."

When I hung up my heart was pounding and I felt physically ill. Spiritually I'm a 98 pound weakling. But I am a 98 pound weakling who knows in Whom she has believed.

Scripture: “But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings. And you will go free, leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture" Malachi 4:2, New Living Translation

Don't Borrow Grief

2011-11-26T16:58:00.000-08:00

Today I attended the funeral of a close friend of my mother's. In addition to being my mother's friend and prayer partner, Kathleen was the mother of one of my high school chums; and I was in her home often during my teenage years. I remember card parties, platters stacked with her special chocolate chip cookies, and most of all, her kindness. Kathleen was a Christ-centered woman who shed the Lord's light on everyone who came within her circle of influence. I loved her.

During the service I suffered a sense of claustrophobia. When they brought the casket in my knees went weak. I felt there wasn't enough air in the room. I felt nauseated.

I cried in the car on the way home and was mean to my husband. I told him that when my mother died he by golly had better be nicer to me than he was being right then. He gazed at me with an absolutely astounded look on his face but said nothing. I could hear him thinking, "What in Heaven's name did I do wrong now?"

I came home in a vile mood and began a text conversation with my cousin, Pam. Pam is a baptized in the Spirit Christian who also is a social worker, is trained as a health coach, and has worked with Alzheimer's patients. Plus that, she loves me. All caregivers should have a Pam to turn to for counsel and care; she is a wonderful blessing to me.

After a few texts regarding my husband's lack of empathy Pam explained, "Men keep things in boxes. One event has little to do with another. Women weave webs of connection. He had no idea that you were relating Kathleen's death to your mother's."

Well, that made sense. But I still wasn't happy.

A few texts later Pam said, "Take the following or leave it as the Lord guides you, but..."

"Do not borrow tomorrow's grief today. The Lord gives dying grace to the dying AND to those left behind. He gives it when it is needed, not when we borrow the grief from tomorrow..."

I trust Pam's analysis of this subject because she was holding her husband's hand when he went home to Jesus at age 51, having succumbed to esophageal cancer.

The gentle peace that came with her words affirmed that this was indeed a word from the Lord. I felt a confidence that when my mom goes to glory that I will be given what I need to walk through the valley of the shadow of her death.

Scripture: My life verse: "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" (Isaiah 41:10).

Farther Along We'll Understand Why

2011-11-06T09:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a little bit of imagination gives us a closer approximation of reality than facts. I'll explain how this pertains to Christian caregiving in a moment, but first I'd better mention a few of the difficult facts of a caregiver's life.

One of the great challenges of providing care to a dementia patient who is also a loved one is the sad and difficult fact of changing relationship roles. It is a daily challenge to release the parent (spouse, child, sibling) you once had, and accept who that person has become. And it is an even greater challenge to respond to that person from the perspective of a caregiver rather than taking a loved one's negative comments and behaviors as blows to the heart. Sometimes it is nearly impossible not to react to a hurtful situation based on the relationship roles of the past rather than to respond from a caregiving perspective.

Here's an example: My mother insists upon eating all her meals in her chair. When she is finished with her meal she stacks her plate, cup, and silverware on the table next to her, and the next time I come through, I pick up the dirty dishes. Now, Mom always has a bottle of water by her chair. She has gotten into the habit of giving the cat a drink of water from this water bottle, usually by filling whatever dish or container is available to the brim with water. Cats love falling water and Kitty has learned that mom will pour water for her if she begs for it.

Problem is, Mom is adept at filling a plate or saucer to the very edge with water so that it is invisible, and like Charlie Brown and the football, I never learn. I come rushing through preoccupied with some task that needs my attention elsewhere, scoop up Mom's dishes---and water goes everywhere. It is truly amazing how much water one of these small vessels can hold.

I tried being extremely vigilant to remove Mom's dishes the instant she finished a meal. She then began giving the cat a drink from the lid to her water bottle. After awhile she would replace the lid onto the bottle, and drink from it happily for the rest of the day. Ewww. Now what to do? I can't take away her water!

It is hard for me to avoid the feeling that Mom doesn't care how much trouble she causes me, does not listen or respect my repeated requests that she not give the cat water at her chair side table, or even does this on purpose just to aggravate me. If she was the Mom I had 25 years ago and behaved like this, all these things would be viable possibilities. But my mother's cognitive processing and ability to remember have been severely damaged by Alzheimer's disease. It isn't so much that she isn't the person she was, but that my mother, whom I love, has suffered brain damage as a result of a disease. I don't like people to make comments such as "That person isn't my mother." I think this is an unhealthy (and unkind) way of detaching emotionally from a loved one. My mom is a victim of Alzheimer's disease. I'm not going to detach from her.

But this very commitment I've made not to detach makes caregiving painful at times.

Now. Back to the imagination versus reality statement at the beginning of this post. The Lord has provided me a way to think about my mom's Alzheimer's that has helped. I know that it isn't exactly accurate, but the fact of the matter is, we can't see clearly things of the Spirit with exact accuracy. We can't read God's mind or fully understand the workings of His ways. But if we will pray for the Lord to enlighten our imaginations with His Holy Spirit, we can arrive at a closer approximation of spiritual truth. I've used this strategy to good effect on my caregiving journey.

When I felt Alzheimer's to be a tragedy and the assignment to provide care to my mother as being a ball and chain around my ankle; this prayerful, imagined dialogue between my mother and the Lord helped me:

Lord: Anna Ruth, I'm going to ask something difficult of you, but it will bless your beloved Linda greatly.
Mom: Anything, Lord, anything for You, anything for my Linda.
Lord: I'm asking you to accept a journey through Alzheimer's. If you were to come home to me suddenly, Linda would be greatly damaged emotionally and would need years to recover. A gentler leavetaking will enable her to release you by stages. And, as a bonus, she will learn patience, long suffering, and humility; all traits that she badly needs and is now lacking.
Mom: If it will help her...
Lord: It will.
Mom: All right Lord. I can do anything with you at my side.

A flight of fancy? Probably. But I believe this flight of fancy has given me a closer understanding of my mother's heart and the Lord's great love than any other way of thinking about this Alzheimer fiasco has done! My mother had (and has) many aggravating faults, as does every human being; but I never once in my entire life have doubted her love for me. Although she has Alzheimer's, my mother still loves me. That isn't going to change, no matter her outward behavior. God, in His perfect wisdom, loves me. And I know He will work this Alzheimer journey to my mother's blessing and mine, and through the power that enables Him to bring everything under His control He will work everything out for our good and His glory (Philippians 3:21, Romans 8:28).

When I spilled water on the library book on Mom's side table this morning, I smiled at Mom and said, "It's ok, I'm figuring this out!" She smiled back.

Mom: I hate to do that water trick one more time, Lord, it's hard on my girl.
Lord: She needs to learn patience. She will be blessed.
Mom: OK, then Lord. But when we all get to Heaven you'll explain this to her, right?
Lord: Absolutely.

It's ok, Lord, I think I'm getting it. Praise Your Name!
****************
Here are the lyrics to the chorus of the wonderful old hymn Farther Along:

Farther along we'll know more about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brother live in the sunshine,
We'll understand it all by and by.

Praying blessings for you today, my fellow caregivers,

In His Love, Linda

Scripture for Caregivers

2011-11-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

My heart goes out to those who are seeking encouragement from Scripture as they transition into the role of caregiver for a loved one. I want to comfort with the comfort and help God provided my mother and me as we faced this difficult transition.

Below you'll find selected Scripture references for passages used in my book, My Mom Has Alzheimer's: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers.

I have linked the references to Biblegateway's NIV 1984 version of the Bible. You can of course go to Biblegateway yourself and look up the passages in the version of your choice, or use your own Bible.

I pray these verses provide you comfort and strength in your caregiving journey. I recommend you begin with the references from the Psalms. May the eyes of your heart be opened to receive the strength and support the Lord has for you today.

1 Cor. 1:9

1 Cor. 13:4-7

2 Cor. 4:7-9

2 Cor. 12:9

1 Pet. 3:8

1 Pet. 3:9, 4:9

1 Pet. 5:7, 4:1

1 Cor. 15:54

2 Cor. 1:3-4, 1:10

2 Cor. 5:5

2 Cor. 4:7-12

Col. 3:13

Col. 3:23-24

Col. 1:10-12

Deut. 31:8

Deut. 33:26-27

Gal. 6:2

Eph. 2:8-9

Eph. 4:2

Hab. 3:17-19

Heb. 10:23

Heb. 12:2

Heb. 12:10-15

Isa. 41:10

Isa. 42:16

Isa. 46:4,

Isa. 48:17

Isa.53:4a, 5b

Isa. 58:11

Isa. 61:2b-3a

Jer. 29:11

James 5:16

Josh. 1:9

John 6:35

John 15:5, NLT

John 16:22

Luke 1:78-79

Luke 6:37

Neh. 4:14

Phil. 1:6

Phil. 2:13

Phil. 4:6

Phil. 4:13

Prov. 16:9

Prov. 17:17

Prov. 17:22

Prov. 19:2

Psalm 23

Psalm 27:10
Psalm 31:9

Psalm 31:14-15

Psalm 34:18

Psalm 57:2

Psalm 72:12

Psalm 84:5-7, NLT

Psalm 103:2

Psalm 116:5-7

Psalm 118:7

Psalm 138:8

Psalm 139:13, 16

Psalm 147:3

Rom. 15:13

2 Sam. 22:2

1 Thes. 5:16-18

Feeling Not Bright

2011-10-28T12:10:00.000-07:00

When something happens that makes me feel not very bright, I don't handle it well. When I have to depend on the greater skills and understanding of others it makes me feel incompetent, and I lapse to self-condemnation.

Today I was mapping my route to Abilene, Kansas where I will attend an authors' gathering at the community center from 1:00 to 4:00 p.m, October 29. Come if you live nearby; it sounds like a neat event; a gathering of about 20 Kansas authors. John and I will be sitting behind a basket of mini-Snickers, offering signed copies of my caregiving book for sale for just $9.25 plus tax--a bargain! You can read more about the event here: Abilene Author Roundup

Preparing for this event required me to figure sales tax and map a route, and let's just say that math skills and directionality are not my areas of expertise. I knew I wanted to charge $10 including tax for my book, and that the sales tax in Abilene is 8.15%.

I tried algebra. I was not terrible at high school algebra, a fact that occasionally leads me to bursts of over confidence.

On the first post-it note I wrote: .0815x + x = $10.00.

On the second post-it, I divided both sides of the equation by x.

I wadded up both post-its and started over. I thought maybe I had two variables. Maybe it should have been .0815x + y = $10.00. I realized I did not know how to solve for two variables. I had a vague notion of what you already know; I was being dense. I wadded up that post-it.

I decided to use words. I am good with words. .0815 times what I want to charge for the book is the sales tax I'll charge and to that I'll add the cost of the book and that will equal ten dollars. So the variable is the pre-tax cost of the book. One variable after all.

I swallowed my pride and texted my daughter, who more quickly than I can finish word processing this sentence, texted me back with the answer (charge $9.25 for your book, Mom, .75 sales tax). Before she became a stay at home mom she was a junior high math teacher. Any one of her former students could have undoubtedly helped me out.

"How did you do that?" I texted back.

"10 divided by 1.0185," she replied.

"Oh. Thanks."

There's the ever present fear I might be getting Alzheimer's but then I decided, no, I've always been dense at math.

So then I began to plot my course to Abilene. We live only a couple hours away, it shouldn't have been difficult. I went to Google maps. I poured over the directions. Not hard. But I became suffused with a familiar, helpless sense of directionality confusion as I tried to think my way through east and west and right and left, and even though I own a Tom Tom (a GPS device that plugs into my cigarette lighter and gives me directions in a calming, British accented voice) I felt that sense of apprehension that always attacks when I have to navigate to an unfamiliar place.

My husband came home for lunch and said, "Guess what! I can go with you tomorrow, so don't worry about finding your way." I should have felt happy and relieved. Instead I had to swallow irritation. I wanted to be able to manage by myself. I will be glad, very glad for his company and the day will be so much more pleasant because he is along, but I felt incompetent.

Awhile later I went in to my mom's apartment to help her shower. I was feeling stung over my incompetence at math and maps, and as we went through the preliminary steps to the bathing ritual I suddenly realized how often Mom must have to endure these same kinds of emotions. How soul crushing to feel that you are being treated as though you aren't even bright enough to know which body part has been washed and which hasn't! Mom doesn't remember that she doesn't remember, and so when I give her directions she must feel that I'm being patronizing. When we were new to the roles of caregiver and patient she would often say, "You must think I'm really stupid." We've come to a more comfortable place now, and Mom seldom protests my sometimes thoughtlessly phrased commands. With true humility she follows my directions even when I am preoccupied or taciturn.

It was good for me to be reminded today of how it feels to have difficulty understanding concepts that others around me comprehend easily. Dementia patients have to cope with this kind of confusion often. It is not surprising that depression can be a side effect of dementia. It is very sad to feel "not bright."

I found myself chatting comfortingly to Mom, thinking hard of ways I could make her feel good about herself. I complimented everything from the condition of her skin to how well she puts up with me. And you know what she said?"

"Well, my daughter takes good care of me and most of all, God is with me."

Well, I'm a slow study, but God is with me and has provided me people to take good care of me when I can't handle things myself. I feel humility and gratitude today, and that's lots better than pride.

Thank You, Lord.

And One More Word About the Importance of Respite...

2011-10-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

I've read so much of Laura Ingalls Wilder's writing as well as the words others have written about her that I feel I know her better than I knew my own grandmother. Her Little House books won me over when I was a third grade student at Crestview Elementary School in Merriam, Kansas, many, many years ago. As an adult I've grown to respect Laura's faith in God, her knowledge about the things that are really important in life, and the words of wisdom she wove throughout her books.

Today I found one of Laura's quotes in a book by Dan L. White. This quote reminds me of my last blog post, which talked about the little vacations a caregiver needs to weave into each day in order to avoid mental and emotional weariness:

"We can take a wonderful vacation in spirit, even though we are obliged to stay at home, if we will only drop our burdens from our minds for awhile. But no amount of travel will give us rest and recreation if we carry our work and worries with us." Laura Ingalls Wilder, quoted in Dan L. White's Laura Ingalls' Friends Remember Her: Memories from Laura's Ozarks Home

During my devotion time it is difficult for me to drop my burdens for even a little while. I know this grieves the Lord's heart. Just think of a loving Father, standing with arms outstretched, ready to carry His child's heavy load. But the little child ignores her father and stubbornly clings to the idea that she's the one who has the responsibility to carry her own burdens.

I'm thinking today of the "vacation in spirit," as Laura calls it, that we need to take every day through prayer, praise, and Scripture. Sometimes I feel that my devotion time is one more thing to be checked off my "to do" list. Thinking of this time with the Lord as a mini-vacation might just help me to partake more fully of the refreshment that's available when we sit at His feet.

Scripture: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

Need a Bit of Respite?

2011-10-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

Caregivers need to take time away from the unrelenting demands of caregiving. For the Christian caregiver, daily time with the Lord is a must. We are to find our rest in Him.

Sometimes though, I know it is o.k. to read a good book, watch a wholesome movie or take a nap. We caregivers don't get many opportunities to take a true vacation, and so small periods of respite within the course of each day become important.

I have a collection of books that provide me this kind of respite. Jan Karon's Mitford series, James Herriot's tales of veterinary work in the Yorkshire Hills, and Laura Ingalls Wilders' Little House books are some of my favorites.

I also love to write funny or entertaining stories and share them with others. If you are a caregiver in need of a little bit of light reading, you might enjoy my farm blog. When my teaching job was discontinued by the school district, I chose to take early retirement and spend more time helping my husband on the farm. To say I'm out of practice with such pursuits is an understatement. My friends are enjoying the blog's description of my mishaps! You might too. If you need a little respite today, please accept my gift to you of a funny story or two at Back Home on the Farm.

If the link doesn't work, cut and paste this into your browser: http://heopensanother.blogspot.com

Something's Not Quite Right Here!

2011-10-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

During Lenten season the spring before my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, someone draped a simple purple stole over the Cross at the front of our church's sanctuary. The first Sunday of Lent we found our seats in our pew at church, and as soon as Mom looked up she became very upset by the fact that the stole did not hang evenly. It wasn't supposed to be even; it was arranged artfully so that one side hung about a foot higher than the other. I explained this to her repeatedly, but each week she would become oddly disturbed when she focused on the stole. "It should be even!" she said angrily. "I don't know what they think they're doing."

This was one of the early signs of Mom's dementia, but in the seven years since her Alzheimer's diagnosis her upset over small things that are not as they should be has remained.

"Would you straighten the window shade...the print on that white board is smudged...one slat in the blind is bent...can you turn that cushion on the couch so the design is right side up...." Mom surveys her world from beneath a ferocious frown and makes comment on things that aren't quite right.

If there were a list of rules for caregivers, "Don't take things personally" would be ranked at the top, and is certainly the caregiving rule I break most often. It is unfair for me to respond as though Mom is deliberately being hurtful when I know that her behaviors are dementia related. And yet, I work hard to keep Mom's environment pleasant, and it seems to me that she spends an unreasonable amount of time commenting on small things that aren't quite perfect. I can't help but feel a little hurt when she seems to constantly focus on things that are wrong instead of commenting on things that are right.

However, there is a cognitive basis for this behavior. Dementia patients have a tremendous struggle to make sense of the world. So many things are difficult for Mom to understand; her questions reveal the depth of her confusion: "Why am I here? Who takes care of me? I know you are Linda, but who is your husband?" In the face of so many confusions, the ability to notice small things becomes like an anchor she can cling to. Mom knows that writing is easier to read if it is not smudged.   The shade should not be crooked. The pillow looks better right side up. She comments on such small things because these are things she knows, and on a deeper level, I think her attempts to put small things to rights reflect her ongoing struggle to make sense of a world that is increasingly incomprehensible for her.

I'm praying today for patience and understanding as Mom works hard to set her crooked world to rights.

God and Alzheimer's

2011-10-06T13:44:00.000-07:00

People wonder about how a loving God can allow bad things to happen, but when the bad thing is Alzheimer's disease, the question of "why" is not usually the first one that comes to mind. There is an initial panic, and the questions run more like this: "What am I to do? Where do I find help? Who will make decisions? How will I survive?"

When my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I cried out to the Lord with these kinds of questions.

I've learned that great emotion of any sort--grief, pain, or fear--can keep us from hearing God's voice clearly. It is at times like this that having a history with the Lord is extremely helpful. The first time a terrible crisis of grief or pain is encountered reminds me of the caliber of fear I experienced as a child when I suffered a bad dream. The first time I awoke in the night following one of these bad dreams, I believed the nightmare was real and my terror was intense. But although I went through a phase during which I suffered recurring nightmares, the fear was never again so all encompassing as on that first occasion. On a subconscious level I had become aware that the bad dream was not real, I would wake up; and everything would be alright. Similarly, although I was miserable and afraid at the time I was told my mother had Alzheimer's disease, I had a healthy confidence that the Lord was going to help me simply because I knew He had helped me in the past.

When we've walked with the Lord for awhile, we learn that even though we may not be able to hear him clearly, He is with us nonetheless. God's presence with us does not depend upon our ability to perceive Him. His power, presence, and provision in our lives do not depend on us at all, but on Him. When we belong to Him, we have the right to cry out to Him; and He isn't particular about how we do it. Eloquence is not required. The prayer might take place while on a solitary walk, in a roomful of people, or leaning with one's head on the steering wheel of a parked car sobbing out broken words of anguish, as I found myself soon after my mom's diagnosis. He hears our prayers.

If you are in the midst of your first major life crisis as a Christian, please trust what I tell you now; the Lord will help you. He will help you in ways you can't see or imagine. As you trust Him and cry out to Him the path before you will be made clear. Don't be afraid. He loves you, and He will take care of you.

Here is comfort from Scripture:

God does not willingly bring grief or suffering (See Lamentations 3:33;) His will flows over all that is grievous and changes darkness to light (See Psalm 18:28;) all things are incorporated into and transformed by His perfect will (See Romans 8:28;) where time and eternity touch, His will is done on earth as in Heaven (See Matthew 6:10;) we can’t yet perceive what we will one day see clearly because we walk by faith and not by sight. (See 1 Corinthians 13:12.)

Back in April I wrote a post entitled "Where is God in Alzheimer's?" and included the guidance the Lord has provided me these past seven years as I've learned to live with my mom's failing memory and to trust the Lord day by day for the path that lies ahead. If you are hungry for more comfort and help from the Lord in the wake of a diagnosis of dementia for yourself or someone you love, I pray you will be helped by what you find here. Clicking on the title of the post at the beginning of this paragraph will take you to the April post.

Respite Care

2011-10-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

I believe there is often confusion about the meaning of respite care. It must be understood that respite care is relief provided to the caregiver. There is a tendency even among caregivers and respite care providers to think that respite should consist of care provided directly to the patient. This isn't necessarily so. Respite care is any task that would provide the caregiver stress relief, including (according to my respite caregiver, Sandy) cleaning my kitchen floor. Each week Sandy appears, visits for a few minutes with my mom, and bids me goodbye (even if I'm only going upstairs to work on writing assignments or to rest). She then works her way around my home doing any housekeeping task she can see that would make my life easier. Meanwhile, for that brief time she is here, I am completely free of responsibility to my mom. During Sandy's work hours in our home , if Mom calls, Sandy answers; and meantime household chores that have gone undone are taken care of for me. Respite indeed!

We sometimes fail to take into account the fact that caregiving brings emotional burdens that many times--no, I'm going to say MOST times--outweigh the physical work involved in taking care of someone who is infirm. Caring for someone who is dying is the most emotionally stressful form of caregiving. When we are involved with a disease such as Alzheimer's and the dying process is lengthened over a long period of time--it has been 7 years and counting for us--well, let's just say that respite is sorely needed.

The most valuable services Sandy provides for us don't have to do with the time she spends with my mother, but with the thoughtful things she does to make my day-to-day life easier. She recognizes that I am the one who carries the grief and burden of caring for my mom, and that her job is to lighten my load wherever she can. We are blessed by her presence in our lives; thank you, Sandy.

The following is a list of Sandy's stellar qualities, and can be used as a guide for understanding what constitutes good respite care:

Prays for the caregiver and care recipient
Recognizes that the job of respite caregiving is to lighten the load for the primary caregiver and focuses on the caregiver's needs
Understands that the caregiver bears burdens that can't be seen and is accepting of grief and stress related behaviors (aka, grouchiness)
Empathizes with the terrible grief of seeing a loved one behave in aberrant ways and never makes jokes about the patient's disease related behaviors
Does not repeat stories--humorous or otherwise--about the patient or caregiver, and practices complete confidentiality
Does not criticize the primary caregiver's caregiving decisions, recognizing that while the respite care provider spends just a few hours each week in the caregiving environment, the primary caregiver is there 24/7.
Remembers that the patient's current condition not an accurate portrayal of the person he/she once was, and does not judge him/her for disease related behaviors.
Is honest and trustworthy
Treats the patient with kindness and empathy, aka, love

If you are the primary caregiver for someone who is infirm, please do be proactive to find time away. Whether the respite care occurs in one's home or entails finding a nursing home or daycare provider that will take your loved one for a regular time away from the pressures of caregiving, respite care is a vital part of providing long term care to a loved one.

Mistaken Identities

2011-09-10T20:59:00.000-07:00

Recently I attended a party given by a local family whose children had attended school with my children. The adult daughter of that family, a young woman the same age as my daughter, greeted us at the door. She resembles her mother, and for a brief moment I was confused. The daughter is now about the same age as her mother had been when we'd first met years ago, and I stumbled just a bit before I greeted the daughter by her correct name.

In that moment of uncertainty, I experienced just a taste of the kind of confusion my mother has to deal with every day. I believe (please, Lord) that my confusion at the party was a normal side effect of being old enough to have known two generations of a family as they each progressed from childhood to adulthood. For people with dementia, this type of normal, momentary mental glitch becomes magnified many times over.

For the past seven years my mother has struggled to remember whether I am her daughter or her granddaughter. Before I had made that treacherous emotional transition from daughter to caregiver, I was devastated by this kind of confusion. Just last evening she said to me, "Now, who is John married to?" (John is my husband of 37 years). Mom had her notebook in her lap and her pen poised to write down my reply.

I always say that I respond "properly" to Mom only about ten percent of the time, and this was one of those less-likely-to-happen responses. I paused a moment, prayed to respond in a way that would protect her dignity, then replied, "Well let's see, it's John and Linda, and Mindy and Brian. Linda is your daughter, and that's me." She was writing furiously to try to keep up as I spoke. I leaned over and patted her hand. I said, "That generational stuff is confusing when you get just a little bit of dementia, isn't it?"

She smiled and nodded, then, consulting her notes, repeated the information back to me, "So, you are Linda, and you're married to John, right?"

I said, "Yup, and we looovvvve each other!" She giggled at my silliness, and all was well.

This is very different from the exchanges that took place early in our caregiver/patient relationship. Early on I would remonstrate with Mom for not knowing me. I was likely to say things such as this: "How many children do you have, Mother? I'm your only child and who the heck else would be taking care of you?" And of course just beneath such a rude response were much deeper and hurt filled questions which went unspoken but for a long time fueled my actions and demeanor toward my mom: "How could you possibly forget your only child? Why don't you express gratitude to me for providing you care, but just take it as your due? Why do you often remember casual acquaintances better than you remember me? How could you betray the relationship we've had by failing to recognize who I am?"

I've come to understand that Mom's confusion about who I am runs deeper than with other people because our relationship has changed so much. We've undergone a role reversal. She is no longer able to cook, buy presents, plan family gatherings, or any of a myriad of other acts of service she performed for me as my mother; thus many of her familiar ways of relating to me have evaporated. Of course this is confusing for her. She often thinks I must be her granddaughter, Mindy, because she recognizes me as a beloved family member, but the daughter she knew did not give her instructions about when it is time to bathe or take medication.

I really don't think we give dementia patients enough credit for the reasoning processes they utilize to make sense of an environment that is often puzzling for them. Mom's reasoning probably goes something like this, "I recognize this girl as being dear to me, and I'm sure she is a family member, but this isn't how Linda acts toward me, so it must not be Linda. Maybe it is Linda's daughter, Mindy, all grown up and taking care of me now."

Caregivers must learn to respond to hurtful behaviors from a clinical rather than an emotional perspective. It is a difficult transition, made easier by the recognition that although the rules of the relationship change, love remains. I am blessed just now because my mom still recognizes exactly who I am when I give her a hug and say, "I love you, Mama."

There will likely come a time when my mother no longer knows me at all, but a hospice nurse who cares for dementia patients once told me, "The ability to love and to receive love remains until the end of life." As we continue this Alzheimer journey together, I pray for the strength to act toward Mom in love and to dependably and graciously receive the love she's still able to express.

The Rhythm of Our Days

2011-08-28T15:16:00.000-07:00


Mom had picked up one of the Anne of Green Gables books and had recorded the title and author here. She'd also spilled her water on the notebook!

Routine is important for Alzheimer patients. I remember during the early days of my caregiving journey that it was difficult to establish those very routines that would later provide my mother security and a sense of peace. We both had challenges to face as we learned to be caregiver and care recipient. Mom's challenges came because she could not remember, but my difficulties were mostly because I lacked experience and was learning as I went.

It is a common misconception that Alzheimer patients cannot learn new information. In my experience with my mother's Alzheimer's disease, I've found she is able to learn, but she requires many repetitions and visual prompts to do so. Keep in mind that my mother is still in the-mid stages of Alzheimer's--approximately early stage 5.

Here are some of the ways we have established routines that have made my mom's days run more smoothly:

She receives her medication, meals, and snacks at about the same time each day.
I use a large white board placed in her direct line of vision to record the day's events. This helps her to remember that she has had interactions with other people. Otherwise, she begins to feel that she might be neglected.
A clock and a calendar are very important for my mother's peace of mind. And so these have been placed within her direct line of vision.
Easy access to a notebook and pen is a must. My mother already had established the habit of journaling, and so this was not a new behavior. Dementia patients are greatly helped if they can form the habit of recording the day's events. Mom was in early/mid stages of A.D. when she came to live with us, and was able to establish the habit of keeping a running record of the day's events as a memory aid.
I've established a regular sequence of events for rituals such as dressing and bathing. We follow this sequence every day. Mom never remembers the sequence well enough to anticipate what she should do next, but she is able to remember that she can ask me. Her initial resentment at having to take direction from me has dissipated over the years. I'm her go-to information source now; I really think she has a similar relationship to me as I have with the Google search engine. Anything Mom needs to know makes her think of me (sigh).

When I first became Mom's caregiver, her resentment at needing my help was a real barrier to achieving positive interactions between us. If the caregiver can remain calm and kind it's possible this initial resistance to accepting help will fade. I've found that if I exude an attitude of calm confidence that what I'm asking Mom to do is best, that this often helps. If I get irritated I may as well give up and come back later.

For me the rockiest days of caregiving thus far have been those early months of adjusting to one another in our new roles as caregiver and patient. It took nearly a year for the adjustment to be complete. During that first year Mom suffered a fall that broke her collar bone followed immediately by a bout of pneumonia. Who would have thought that seven years later my caregiving duties for my mother would actually be lighter than they were then? There have been no more falls, and at 87 years of age, Mom is in good physical health. I share this to in order to encourage new caregivers not to give up too easily. Some dementia patients can experience improvement and adjust to a new living situation, given proper medication and time.

Weddings and Other Slippery Slopes

2011-08-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

Mom and I posed for a photo a couple of hours before Jonathan and Nicole's wedding ceremony. Jon is Mom's only grandson.

I borrowed the title of this post from my daughter, Melinda. She once wrote a blog entry entitled, "Birthdays and Other Slippery Slopes," detailing the emotional roller coaster of family celebrations.

I've thought of Melinda's blog post title often these past few months as we navigated the "slippery slopes" of the joyful but stressful days just prior to the wedding of our son and beautiful daughter-in-law, Jonathan and Nicole. I was so worried about Mom because, for reasons not fully understood, holidays and other special occasions are often a catalyst for a downward turn in functioning for dementia patients. Emotion, especially emotion that recalls other very sad or very happy times, does a number on the Alzheimer diseased brain.

Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's just a month after Melinda and her husband, Brian, were married seven years ago. During the busy days preceding that wedding, Mom's dementia symptoms became more pronounced.On the day of the wedding she needed my aunt's help in order to style her hair and to make it to the wedding on time. Melinda and Brian were married in March, and Mom moved in with us in early November of that same year. She was no longer able to stand the stress and confusion of living by herself. I've always felt that the emotions surrounding Melinda's wedding somehow triggered Mom's transition from mild dementia into the early/mid-stages of Alzheimer's.

And so I was vigilant to be protective of Mom as this latest celebration approached. I shielded her as much as possible from the hoopla surrounding this exciting, beautiful, emotional event, and felt trepidation on the day of the wedding as Mom fielded three separate caregivers who arrived at designated times to serve her a meal, fix her hair, and help her dress.

She came through like a champ.

She was cheerful and good natured. She joked. She smiled. She seemed to enjoy the proceedings. We brought her to the church for the three hours preceding the wedding and she smiled for many photos and apparently loved interacting with the bride and groom as they greeted her and coaxed her to her feet for a series of formal photos.

Go figure.

Mom and her grandson, Jonathan.

Alzheimer's disease can't be charted or predicted with perfect accuracy, and the course of the disease varies greatly from one individual to the next. The past seven years have brought Mom improvements in nutrition, weight, and medication. These things, in combination with a comfortable, generally predictable environment where she feels secure, have evidently combined to afford Mom the capacity to cope with the slippery slope of a wedding celebration.

I am afraid of her next downward turn. I am so grateful that Jon and Nic's wedding did not trigger that much dreaded transition.

Here are a few more photos of the wedding:

This one's titled, "Oh my gosh, I'm dancing!!!" Blessedly, my son is a gifted dancer and all I had to do was follow. I didn't expect quite so many twirls and turns, though.

They are so beautiful. We are so blessed. God is so good. *Sigh.

Prayer Trumps Intellect

2011-08-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

Farmer John and me, dancing at our son's wedding. My smile proves that happiness is possible even after doing something not very bright, such as locking oneself into a closet at a wedding reception.

Years ago I watched a television interview with a famous movie actor. At one point in the segment, the host asked whether there was anything in day-to-day life that got under the actor's skin. "What really bothers you?" the interviewer asked.

The actor answered tersely and succinctly, "Stupid. I can't stand 'stupid.' He leveled his piercing gaze upon the hapless reporter and paused a moment in order to heighten the dramatic impact of his words, "Stupid really bothers me."

And that was that. The interview came to a close and I had the feeling that the actor's impression of the interviewer was probably very close to the sentiment he expressed in that one word, "Stupid."

I've thought of this exchange often over the years, particularly whenever I do anything that is, well, stupid.

Like the time I drove really close to the railroad tracks in order to cautiously look both ways just as the bells began to ring and the arms descended. I panicked, couldn't find the gear shift, and ended up with a three foot long scratch along the side of our brand new Ford Escape from one of the guard arms.

Or the time, in an art class, that I thought "Versailles" was pronounced the way they do it in the Ozark Hills of Missouri, where there is a town of that name. In Missouri they don't call it "Vair-sigh," but it is "Ver-sales", just like it looks. I betrayed my hillbilly upbringing right there in front of a lot of very cultured art students.

And then there was the moment just a couple of weeks ago when I managed to lock myself into a room sized closet during my son's wedding reception. The noise of the crowd kept anyone from hearing as I tapped on the door. I began to shout and finally kicked at the door repeatedly, until suddenly all 250 people in the reception hall fell silent, and with a sort of unified crowd perception, heard my cries for help. My son-in-law unlocked the door and I emerged, red-faced, to the sound of laughter and applause.

I could go on for quite some time with memories of times my lack of intellect or inability to think quickly landed me in an embarrassing situation. I am certain that famous man I quoted at the beginning of this post would not be able to bear my presence for long. Lots of times I'm just not very bright.

But that's OK, because I have a hookup with the Creator of the Universe. I almost feel sorry for people who, through their own grit, determination, intellect, and hard work, are able to gain success; only to see some not-quite-up-to-par sap like me experiencing peace and comfort I don't deserve, just because I prayed.

Most recently one of my near misses with disaster occurred when, after following the Lord's lead to give up my teaching job earlier this spring, I could not find a way to provide health insurance for my husband and myself . We are in our late fifties, and in a situation that would not have surprised someone who is better informed about the health care crisis in this country, I found that private carriers would not accept us, and business carriers would not recognize us as a legitimate small business since we are "just" farmers. Furthermore, the premium quotes we had received were so astoundingly expensive that we could not afford them, even if they would accept us. At three in the morning this past Wednesday, I fell to my knees and cried out to the Lord for help. I received the clear impression that we already possessed both the funds and the solution to an insurance carrier that we needed. I racked my brain and, being not bright as I've clearly established above, couldn't think where in our assets we possibly could find additional monthly income that would cover horrendously expensive insurance premiums.

It is time to make this long story short, but here is the solution we found through a series of serendipitous discoveries that came, not by my savvy, but by God's grace. I found that because I am over 55 and have more than ten years of service as a public employee, that I can retire and begin to draw my pension. I then found that as a retiree with more than ten years of service, by Kansas law both Farmer John and I can continue with the group insurance plan we've had for 22 years through the school where I worked.

Godly wisdom is one thing, human intellect entirely another. By God's grace I can participate in His wisdom and provision, even though I could fairly be categorized as "not quite bright" in the eyes of the world!

Scripture: "It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them" (Psalm 44:3).

What Lies in Us

2011-07-10T16:37:00.000-07:00

I have never met a person I could despair of, or lose all hope for, after discerning what lies in me apart from the grace of God. Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, June 17 reading

A treatise on the innate sinfulness of human beings in general and this blogger in particular may not seem an appropriate subject for a caregiving blog, but stay with me. Caregivers and their care recipients are human, and so sin is going to cause trouble in patient/caregiver relationships. This post is about how the Lord would have us to deal with the sad fact of sin in the people we love. Accepting the fact that we ourselves are sinful is the first step in this process.

I've learned today that I really can't trust my own motives. During prayer time I was forced to the admission that my "selfless" mothering of my adult children is, to some degree, a cover for a need to assure that I am accorded the honor and loyalty I feel I need from them.

I resisted at first, denying vehemently that there was any wrong in me in relation to my children, and then engaged in a sort of tug of war against the Almighty. Guess Who won that contest? Yes, I was finally convinced of my own black-heartedness as the following thoughts broke through my complacency:

When you demand loyalty, love takes second place. You do yourself a disservice, because your true desire is for your children’s responses to you to be directed by love rather than guilt-induced loyalty.

Their sense of guilt when they fail to accord you adequate respect gives birth to resentment, which engenders a feeling of entitlement. They sense that the negative feelings they harbor are your fault, and this justifies, in their minds, a demand for repayment from you.

Appalled, I asked, "How do I make this right?"

You do not make it right. You are unable to fix what you have broken. God is the healer of hearts, the repairer of broken walls. Trust Him and stay out of His way.

Release your self-imposed sentence of making your life a sacrifice for your children. You have accepted this burden as a sort of insurance against being abandoned; but see the terrible fear you have taken on along with your burden of service? You fear that when you are no longer able to be of service to them, they will not continue to love you.

You have confused loyalty with love. Let go your demands for their loyalty, and leave their love for you to grow under the Lord's hand.

Did you catch the sentence above that might make someone who cares for an elderly parent more vulnerable to the sin that has captured me? You fear that when you are no longer able to be of service to them, they will not continue to love you. Such astonishing demands have been made on my time and my life by my mother's Alzheimer's disease. It is difficult for me to imagine anyone being willing to make this kind of sacrifice for me. I fear being abandoned if the same disease that has rendered my mother helpless should attack me. My twisted sin-based logic would have me weave a web of obligation in my children's hearts that would provide insurance for me against disease-induced helplessness.

Of course this attitude dishonors God. The Lord is my strength and my provider; I need no further guarantee of future care than this. It's time I release my children from the obligation to be loyal to me "no matter what." All I really need from them is their love, which, because God is merciful and covers my sin, I already have.
*****************************************
My son's wedding is in six days. He and his beautiful bride-to-be share a love for country music and also for swing dancing, areas of life completely foreign to me! When the mother/son dance song was selected for me by a friend I thought, "Wow, that doesn't sound like me at all, but oh well." At our one practice session, my son took me in his arms and, because he is so good at two-stepping, I found I could follow his lead and do a good enough job for the 3 minutes of the song. The twangy, heart rending number we will dance to is called, "I Won't Take Less Than Your Love," by Paul Overstreet. It is amazing to me that the Lord provided this song for us weeks ago and only now do I understand; my son doesn't owe me a thing, but loving and being loved is the best gift of all. You can listen to the song here.

Following Christ's Example

2011-07-03T13:52:00.000-07:00

During devotion time this morning my mind wandered to a scene from a science fiction movie my husband and I recently watched. In this scene the hero is using his powers against an ugly and terribly frightening alien. The alien has been assigned to kill our hero, but as the hero valiantly fights, he looks up to see his comrade in desperate need of help as she battles with a flying beast. He makes the decision to turn his back on his own opponent and uses his powers to give aid to his comrade in her life and death battle. He saves her, but while doing so, his own enemy revives and nearly finishes him off.

I brought my mind back to my daily Bible reading with a sense of guilt for my inattentiveness, but then as I opened my heart and mind to the Lord, I realized why this movie scene had come to mind. These past seven years as I've cared for my mom, I’ve turned my attention to the needs of another. In so doing I’ve taken my eyes from my own dreams and goals; in fact, I’ve let go not only my wants but also some things that could be categorized as needs. It's interesting how that scene from the movie took root in my subconscious and then presented itself to me as an illustration of the sacrifices I've made for my mother.

As caregivers we must attempt neither to fall to resentment because so much has been asked of us, nor to dismiss as being unimportant the things we've given up. I've erred on both sides; in fact, I tend to vacillate between the two perspectives. Some days you'll find me saying things like this: "Mom is relatively easy to care for, and the Lord's been with us throughout this journey. I have no cause for complaint."

Other days I clench my jaw shut and seethe--yes, seethe with anger because I feel so unappreciated for all that I've done for Mom. Seven years ago I cut my job to half time to take care of her, and then, this spring, at least in part because of the gentle withdrawal I began from duties at my job at the time of Mom's Alzheimer's diagnosis, I found myself with no real role to play for the coming fall at the K-12 school where I'd taught for 22 years. I'd subbed and taught summer school for ten years before I was under contract, and a few years prior to that had attended high school at the same attendance center where I later taught. Thus, walking away from my job entailed letting go of a place that had been a part of my life since I was 16 years old.

When I walked into Mom's room yesterday morning she first called me by my daughter's name, then by mine, then felt confused and finally asked, "Now, who are you?" I see that we are coming to the end of Mom's mid-stages of Alzheimer's and are poised for the final act. And with this cursed disease who knows how long these final stages will take, and what new agonies await?

I cried all this out to the Lord, citing before Him my grief over what I've freely given for His sake not only to Mom, but to others I love. As I prayed, I wrote this reply as from the Lord to me and to every caregiver who reads these words:

You made this commitment, Child. You have submitted your will to Me for the sakes of these others you love, those precious ones I have loved first and best. You have become a willing vessel for My love to bless the lives of others. You are dying to self, and dying is not pleasant; but death must precede resurrection. You will yet see My goodness in the land of the living; allow hope to be kindled in your heart. I will not leave you or abandon you. I have seen your suffering, I have counted your tears, and I will not just “make it up” to you; I will bless you richly beyond anything you have earned.

Whether the blessings God promises are for this world or for the next, in the words of the old hymn, "I know whom I've believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that I have entrusted unto Him against that day" (from the Hymn "I Know Whom I Have Believed" at hymnsite.com). I can trust Him with this caregiving journey as well as with all I've let go in order to hang on tightly to Him.

Scripture: "I have no regrets. I couldn't be more sure of my ground—the One I've trusted in can take care of what he's trusted me to do right to the end" (2 Timothy 1:12, The Message).

"I know the one in whom I trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him" (2 Timothy 1:12, New Living Translation).

God is So Good

2011-06-25T07:23:00.000-07:00

Amidst all the hoopla surrounding our plans for our son's rapidly approaching July wedding, our family paused to celebrate my mother's 87th birthday yesterday. At one point during the evening my daughter, Melinda, said, "Let's take a four generation photo, Mom." And so we placed three-year-old Daniel on his great grandma's lap, I scrunched my aging knees into an excruciatingly uncomfortable position in order to move closer to my loved ones,and our son-in-law, Brian, snapped the photo.

The result made me realize I've not been seeing the blessings God has placed right in front of me. I've been indulging a "Woe is me I'm so busy and stressed" state of mind, Lord forgive me!

So this is me saying, "Thank you Lord for my many blessings!"

I'm inviting you to do the same today. Just take a moment with me now and acknowledge that God is in control of the present, He knows the future; and that all will be well. Let's pray together today for our eyes to be opened to the blessings the Lord has placed right in front of us.

Scripture:
"From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another" (John 1:16).

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows" (James 1:17).

The Lord Doesn't Turn Away

2011-06-06T07:22:00.000-07:00

Most of us learn early to hide emotions that make us appear weak in the eyes of our fellow human beings. However, there is a hidden trap in the practice of constantly suppressing emotion, because grief and fear can't be completely contained. The stress of an emotional event such as a wedding, a funeral, or even a Hallmark commercial will release that suppressed flow in an embarrassing tide. Who hasn't seen a strong man completely dissolve into a tearful mass of quivering jello on the occasion of a beloved daughter's wedding?

Other people are indeed made uncomfortable and will turn away from a display of weakness, but we do ourselves a grave disservice when we assume that the Lord feels the same unease or disgust toward our pain. When we extend the skill of hiding emotion into our relationship with the Lord, we rob ourselves of partaking of His compassion and acceptance.

The Lord does not turn away. He feels the pain with us and accepts us even as we fall on our knees in sorrow and fear.

It is particularly important for caregivers to spend time in God's presence daily. We must stay in His light until the deep wells of frustration and underlying grief have been tapped, and then partake deeply of His solace through Scripture. If any part of this process of purging and partaking is left undone, we not only rob ourselves of peace and strength; we rob our care recipients of a clean vessel through which the Lord can minister to their needs.

Scripture: "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise" (Psalm 51:17).

Caregivers' Prayer: Thank you, Lord, for the reassurance that You do not reject or disapprove of my frustration and grief. My heart is broken, and so daily I drag myself to Your throne, knowing that I’m a shaking, pitiful excuse for a child of God. Thank You for Your compassion for my trembling and grief; thank You for helping me and not turning away. Be in how others perceive me, and strengthen me so that others may partake of Your solace and strength through me. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Life Changes

2011-05-31T04:34:00.000-07:00

Retirement, like death, is one of those things that happen only to other people; but as of May 26^th, it has happened to me. I have taken a year of family leave in order to provide care to my mother, and probably won’t return to the teaching career I’ve loved. As our family’s needs grow and change, home on the farm is where I need to be; however, I’m having a little bit of trouble adapting. I had thought the role of “teacher” would define my identity, if not until the day I die, well then at least for another ten years or so.

When I’m preparing meals I often slip a familiar movie into the disc drive of the computer that sits on my kitchen desk. The day after my retirement party, my selection was one that many women who read this will find familiar, as will many men since they’ve probably seen it under duress. It was “You’ve Got Mail” with Meg Ryan (yes, guys, it is a chick flick; but hey, Tom Hanks co-stars...). I was peeling potatoes when I heard Jean Stapleton's character say, "You are being very brave. You are daring to imagine that you could have some other life."

It really has taken a fair amount of bravery for me to walk away from the career that I’ve loved. The passion to help little ones become successful readers gave my life shape and meaning; in short, I felt useful. I’ve been a teacher since 1978. It truly is a challenge to imagine that I could have some other life.

A dear friend wrote these words to me in her own hand, “Your teaching days are not over, but perhaps in the capacity with which you have become accustomed, they are. God dreams bigger than we can ever dream, and He has plans for you…I feel great peace as I think of the coming years for you. There will be new endeavors and new opportunities to teach and to learn.”

Life is full of transitions, and most of us don’t like this fact. We would prefer to attain a place of comfort and safety and clutch it to our hearts to keep, but we are not allowed to do so; sometimes there has to be an ending before there can be a new beginning. As another close friend said to me, “A chapter completed does not mean the story is ended.”

Here’s to new beginnings!

A Proposed Change of Focus

2011-05-24T13:56:00.000-07:00

I waste a lot of time feeling angry with my mother because she asks me to do things for her. Even though it has been seven years since Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, I don't think it will ever become automatic to me to respond to her as a caregiver rather than as the daughter I was to her for the first 40-some years of my life.

"Would you close my drapes...get me a diet coke...adjust the temperature because I'm hot (or cold)...get me a box of kleenex...bring me some crackers to enjoy with my coke..." Each one of those innocuous requests causes me to press my lips into a thin line and to act annoyed with my mother.

When Mom is too warm, it doesn't occur to her to remove her sweater.When she is too cold, she doesn't consider covering her lap with the quilt that lies draped over the arm of her chair. She is, however, able to discern that she is uncomfortable and to ask me to do something about it.

Dementia patients tend to develop a pattern of responding that, in the general population, might be labeled "demanding," or even "lazy." The problem is that the ability to ask for help outlasts the ability to perform the multiple steps required to complete a task independently. Asking for help is a one step cognitive process, while performing a task independently requires the ability to carry out several steps in a process. However, when a patient requests a caregiver to do something that the patient is physically capable of doing, the natural caregiver response is annoyance.

The problem is compounded when the patient is someone who once provided nurture and support for the one who has become the caregiver. Role reversals are a hallmark of the difficulties experienced when a daughter or son becomes the caregiver for a parent.

I know all of this.

But I still become annoyed when I'm treated like a servant rather than a daughter.

This morning Mom called me into her room and asked me to adjust the volume on her music channel. Before I made my escape she added, "And I'd like my coffee warmed, please." I complied with her requests somewhat ungraciously, and then headed to the kitchen to make cream cheese mints for my son's upcoming wedding reception. I made this task into a mini-holiday in the midst of my busy day by watching a movie on my laptop computer as I worked. Nipping an occasional taste of the minty-sweet dough as I formed lilies and leaf shapes, I enjoyed the respite.

The movie I watched was The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. As I shed tears over the farewell scene at the end of the film--it is so evocative of the goodbyes we must say to loved ones at the end of life--the Caspian character uttered this line, "I've spent too long wanting what was taken from me, and not what I was given."

I found myself frozen, staring at the computer screen, and replaying those words in my head. I am very good at describing in wearisome detail the exact nature of what I've lost. But what about the gifts I've been given? There've been many these past few years, even in the midst of Mom's Alzheimer's.

I consider myself to be at a transition point on the timeline of my life. Because my position as Reading Recovery teacher has been phased out due to budget cuts, I've chosen to quit my job after twenty-two years as a teacher. My son is getting married this summer, and I find myself with a rather unacceptable amount of angst over giving my youngest child in marriage. My mother fades day by day due to Alzheimer's.

I've done an awful lot of talking and writing about the things I've lost.

What if I focused on what I've been given, instead?

I'm trying, Lord, I'm trying. I'm working hard today to see the gifts I've been given in the midst of the final scenes of so many chapters of my life.

Scripture: "You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy" (Psalm 30:11).

Keep Running!

2011-05-14T14:47:00.000-07:00

So often it seems that when I begin to follow more closely to the Lord, something happens to stop me. I’ve grown almost superstitious about this, and dangerously close to playing into the devil’s hand through a mindset that would say, “Why try to be more Godly; it just paints a big target on my head for the devil.”

For example, I’ve just completed a 60 day program that emphasizes Christian discipline. About ten days into this endeavor, I ran a thorn into my hand which instantly became infected, requiring antibiotics. A few days after this I got a toothache and had to get a root canal! My efforts at walking according to the Spirit and not the flesh were effectively derailed, although I did struggle to my feet again and finally completed the program—taking about 70 days to complete the 60 day plan! Ignoring the fact that the antibiotics may have protected me from a terrible toothache and subsequent infection during the root canal procedure (hmm, maybe God really was in control?!), I felt frustrated with the Lord.

I was writing all of the above in my prayer journal when I heard the Lord say,

“He can’t keep it up.”

I understood this to mean that the devil can’t keep up an effort to derail us from following hard after the Lord, and so we shouldn’t quit at the first sign of opposition. Picture a runner pounding along a clearly marked path. A vindictive opponent picks up a rock and throws it at the runner, whacking him hard on the shin. The runner stops, hops around saying, “OUCH” for a few seconds, but almost instantly begins running again because he is so intent upon winning the prize. He is quickly out of reach of the disgruntled rock thrower. But what if the runner, fearing more pain, had just sat down on the path? The first thing that would have happened is that he would have remained within easy range of his opponent, who almost certainly could find another rock to toss at a stationary target.

Furthermore, opposition makes us stronger. A muscle doesn’t grow unless there is resistance; we must lift weights in order to become strong physically. In our spiritual journeys the Lord allows some obstacles along the path in order to strengthen our faith.

We have to keep our eyes on the finish line, where our Savior awaits. But remember, He also is with us on the path.

Scripture: “...let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God...” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

The Lord sat down, but not until He had reached His goal. Lord, grant me grace to follow your example and not to be too easily discouraged from running hard after You!

The 60 day program I followed was The Lord's Table, a Christian weight loss program that is a part of the Setting Captives Free Ministry. Founder Mike Cleveland has a program for about anything that ails you (or sin that besets you) from alcoholism to pornography addiction to overweight. These are Spirit filled, Christ-centered programs that rely on peer volunteers to shepherd fellow sojourners to freedom from habitual sin. Check out this ministry at settingcaptivesfree.com.

Blind Spots

2011-05-09T07:28:00.000-07:00

There are certain points on the timelines of our lives at which we are blind to the possibility of future blessing. I'm at one of those points in my life now. This morning during prayer time I began to grieve and weep before the Lord over sorrows past. When the future seems unclear, our human tendency is to attempt to project the future based on past experience. When the past has included grief (and who of us has not suffered grief or loss), we may find ourselves trapped in a space between grief over sorrows past and fear of future loss.

And an odd thing about a new grief is that it tends to tap the well of past sorrows. Have you experienced this? As I grieve over the loss of my teaching ministry to children, I find myself remembering details surrounding my father's death from cancer with more clarity than I've experienced in the thirteen years since his death. Unpleasant! Grievous!! It's as though experiencing the emotion of grief over leaving my twenty-two year teaching career has resurrected the memory of all the major sorrows of my life. Just this morning I re-experienced the moment I understood a dual blow of loss: my mother would no longer nurture me, and at the same time new caregiving responsibilities were about to crash upon my shoulders. I was now going to have to take care of her! I hadn't thought about that moment in eight years.

I'd come in the back door of my mother's house. I had been stopping by every morning in an attempt to help her to regain some of her former independence; her Alzheimer's had not yet been diagnosed. As I came in the door she said, in a sing-song, little girl voice, "There's a monster on my ceiling and I hate him."

I walked to her side and looked up to see a large spider perched in the corner of her ceiling. I drug a chair over, prayed, and killed the spider.

The history behind this incident is that the mother I'd had all my life knew that I am terrified of spiders, and would have tried to protect me from the horrors of that eight legged creature on the ceiling. She would have killed the spider for me, warning me away from the area until the deed was done. This was the first moment that I knew that I had irretrievably lost my mother as I'd known her. Grievous! Painful!!!

This morning as I cried out to the Lord with the discomfort of the cumulative weight of my life's sorrows, several truths came to mind.

I've not borne these sorrows alone. Through each time of grief, the Lord has strengthened and provided for me (Psalm 29:11).
God has promised me a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
The Lord is sovereign over our sorrows and our joys. In each one we should give Him praise. Regardless of the current circumstances of our lives, He is worthy of our adoration (Romans 8:28).
From every great sorrow I've experienced, great blessing has come. He brings gold from ashes (Isaiah 61:3)!

If you have some weeping and praising to do today I recommend Don Moen's "I Will Sing." That song expresses perfectly the fact that even when we can't see a shred of hope, the Lord is worthy of our praise. Remember today and rejoice: whether or not we are able to see it just now, there is hope for the future when we place our trust in the Lord.

Starting Over

2011-05-04T13:35:00.000-07:00

Life is full of transitions. My sentiment about this fact can be summed up in a single word:

"Bleh!"

That was one of Frog and Toad's favorite expressions in the Frog and Toad stories by Arnold Lobel. It perfectly describes my emotions today, as after twenty-two years of teaching, I clean out my desk and pack my personal possessions. I am preparing to walk away from my beloved classroom for the very last time.

BLEH!

And of course there is the ever present, long goodbye of my mother's Alzheimer's disease; a major life transition that has stretched into a seven-year-and-counting journey. Most of us who become caregivers for a loved one experience a major life transition that has to do with changing relationship roles. It is heartbreaking to give up the support a loved one provided in the past while simultaneously dealing with an increased workload. And then there is a shock when we realize that not only have our loved ones stopped providing us with love and support, they now need US to support THEM.

All together now...BLEH!!

However, I think the Lord has been trying to get a message through to my addled, bleh-focused brain today. Two unmistakable Holy Spirit nudges have led me to a tentative little thread of hope that even if all I've known is going to change, the future might hold something even better.

The first nudge came this morning when I read an article stating that people tend to underestimate their net worth, because they forget to include their own potential earning power. They look only at what they have saved, and forget to take into account what they might be able to accomplish in the future. In other words, they look at where they've been and not at where they might be able to go. The thought occurs that maybe I've undervalued myself. I know that for some incomprehensible reason the Lord values me...

Hmmmmm.

Then, as I was packing a stack of personally owned children's books into a storage container, I came across the book The Ox Cart Man, by Donald Hall. This is the story of a New Hampshire farmer who lived in the eighteenth century. The oxcart man packs the fruit of his year's labors, including crops he has raised, wool from his sheep, a shawl his wife made, birch brooms carved by his son, and feathers from his geese. He travels to a nearby town and sells his possessions one by one, finally selling even his cart and his ox. The reader is made to understand that all this is not an easy task. The farmer even appears to feel a bit of a wrench at leaving his beloved ox; he kisses the ox on the nose by way of saying goodbye! He then returns home with coins in his pocket and with his only potential for future gain lying in his own strength and wits, he begins another year of fruitful labor.

Well, I don't have much strength and my wits are pretty much addled, but the Lord loves me and has promised me a future and a hope. Right now I am allowing this promise to kindle a small spark of anticipation for what the future may hold. Perhaps my "bleh" will transition into a resounding "Yippee!" at some point in the future.

My future doesn't depend on me, but upon the Lord, and therein lies my hope.

Scripture: "Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father." (Galatians 4:6).

"Thus we have been set free to experience our rightful heritage. You can tell for sure that you are now fully adopted as his own children because God sent the Spirit of his Son into our lives crying out, "Papa! Father!" Doesn't that privilege of intimate conversation with God make it plain that you are not a slave, but a child? And if you are a child, you're also an heir, with complete access to the inheritance" (Galatians 4:6, The Message).

Help When I Need It

2011-04-23T04:51:00.000-07:00

This blog is written primarily for Christian caregivers, but I welcome all comers. I don't ever want to exclude anyone on the basis of belief or non-belief. Since my friend from Germany expressed her exasperation with the fact that I always and forever have a Christ-centered (her word, "moralistic") solution to the most knotty of problems; I've been aware that if I write exclusively to Christians, that I risk hurting hearts and minds of those who do not share my beliefs. Yes, as Christians we are in the business of sharing the knowledge we have and the peace we've found. When we know that we KNOW that we've been given eternal life, we want to share the news! But let's not be obnoxious with it. Conversion is the work of the Holy Spirit. I won't say that no one's ever been scared, coerced, or enticed by pious moralizing into the Kingdom of God, but I will say that these are not the preferred ways for us to share the peace we've found and the joy we know.

ANYWAY...

I've gotten online this morning in order to share the Bible verse I've just found; one of those "When'd they put that in the Bible" revelations for me today. (And, since Biblegateway updated their 1984 NIV Bible to a brand-new-for-2011 version, I really am finding stuff I didn't see before because, by golly, it wasn't THERE before...)

Here's the verse.

"You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me" (Psalm 18:35 New International Version c2011).

Isn't that great?

As an Alzheimer caregiver, I often feel completely overwhelmed. Beyond that, the Lord seems to be placing me in the role of a servant/caregiver in other areas of my life.

I couldn't do it without the Lord. His saving help is my shield, and He sustains me.

That isn't moralizing--it's the truth as I've come to know it! God bless each person who reads these words today.

Where is God in Alzheimer's?

2011-04-19T21:18:00.000-07:00

I have been speaking and writing about Alzheimer's disease since my mom was received her diagnosis in April of 2004. During these seven years I've been asked several times, "Where is God in Alzheimer's?"

All I can do in the face of such a soul wrenching query is to attempt to comfort with the comfort I've received from the same God who allowed my mother (and your mother/ brother/ father/ sister/ husband/ wife/ friend) to be afflicted with this grievous disease.

Here are quotes from my book and accompanying Scripture that might help someone who is trying to find the Lord's presence and purpose in the midst of a struggle with a loved one's dementia:

God is sovereign over life, death, and everything between. There is great peace in accepting this fact. “In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).

Common sense based upon the facts of the expected progression of Alzheimer’s disease will lead to despair. Faith based upon the reality of Jesus Christ offers hope.

The future is in God’s hands, and you can trust Him. No one but the Lord knows the future. Follow Him in your present and leave tomorrow in His hands.

"The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deuteronomy 33:27a).

Anchor your heart to the Lord. Although everything around you may be in a state of upheaval, God does not change.

God is mighty to act on behalf of those who cry out to Him. I must avail myself of the healing balm of Gilead. Expressing pain and grief won’t kill me—but repressing it just might.

“The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simple-hearted; when I was in great need, He saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you” (Psalm 116:5-7).

God is with you. If you act burdened and communicate your stress to your loved one, you are in sin against the Lord, who has provided for you.

In all of our trials large and small, God is present with us.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

“The LORD is with me; He is my helper” (Psalm 118:7).

God is the Provider for your loved one, and He will provide for you too.

“The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge”
(2 Samuel 22:2,3).

I was comforted to be reminded that the Lord is in control even of events that are devastating to us. Because I knew Him to be a loving God, there was great peace in this reminder that He was in control. We cannot comprehend the why of distressing events, but we may always find solace when we come to the Lord. It is a difficult truth that our only hope of deliverance from the pain of grief lies in the arms of Him who allowed us that grief.

I will close this post with a quote from my mother's journal, dated July, 1962. I pray that each person who reads these words finds the strength and comfort they need to move forward through their own Alzheimer's journey:

Continually look for things that remind us that God is in all things we see or experience. Don’t hold back from life in fear of being hurt—or of seeing or feeling things that are devastating to us. Sometimes these are the things [in which] we may find some of God’s work for us.

Where is God in Alzheimer's? Right where He has always been, sovereign over every circumstance of our lives, and present with power, provision, and comfort for His own.
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If you feel your relationship with the Lord isn't one that will afford you the peace promised in the Scripture and quotes above, check out this link.

I Think I Can't/Please pray for Me!

2011-04-15T14:12:00.000-07:00

I am tired. This morning I took a long look at myself in the mirror and said aloud, "I can't do this."

"This" is an all encompassing term that refers to:

giving up my job as teacher
facing retirement at age 57 with a laughably small retirement fund
becoming dependent upon Farmer John (my husband) for all my financial needs, and by extension, upon the farm itself; which I've learned is an undependable source of income.
watching my mother continue to fade away from me
carrying an increasingly heavy caregiving load
coping with the fact that the much anticipated (and thus far one-and-only) royalties check that I will receive from my publisher will be for a grand total of $144.00. I am being paid approximately fourteen cents a copy for the books my publisher has sold for me.

I could go on. And on and on and on. But I'll spare you. Suffice it to say, that unlike the Little Engine That Could, I don't think I can.

If you are annoyed by Christian platitudes, as is at least one of my readers, please stop reading now. You may go about your business, leaving me in the depths of depression (gloom, despair, and agony on me...).

Now.

I'm praying as I write this gloomy post, and here is the verse that comes to mind:

"Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you" (1 Kings 19:7).

These are the words that an angel spoke to Elijah, who, even I will admit, was in worse circumstances than mine. He'd fled for his life from the evil King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, he was the only prophet left alive who was a true spokesman for the Lord; and now they were trying to kill him too! When the angel spoke to him, Elijah got up, ate, rested some more, and then ate again. He was then able to continue his journey.

I don't need physical food right now, I really don't. I've just imbibed a 23 grams-of-protein power bar. And so what kind of intake will truly strengthen me for the journey ahead? Of what can I partake that will kick the whine out of my voice and put a sparkle back into my eye?

Wait, I know this one...

Prayer. Praise. Fellowship. Scripture.

That's the formula I taught my students back when I used to teach Sunday School, and it is a formula that has usually worked for me in the past. But there is one more element not listed here, and that is intercession. It's hard to ask others to pray when we are in need. It takes humility, and a willingness to admit we can't pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps.

This morning I was at just that point of despair. After I'd proclaimed to my own reflection the impossibility of the path before me, I went to my computer, composed a pathetic little "Please pray for me" email, and sent it winging on its way to three dear friends who are my closest prayer partners. When I arrived at work about an hour later, one of those precious intercessors was sitting in my classroom, praying. She gave me a hug, held my hand and prayed aloud for me, pledged to continue to pray and was gone.

And I'm ok now.

The point of this rambling entry is, dear fellow caregivers, that you really cannot do what you need to do all by yourself. Cry out to the Lord, and humble yourself to ask others to intercede for you.

Because even if you think you can't, the Lord can; and the intercession of others will help you to go forward in His strength and not your own.

Scripture: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me" (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Change is Hard

2011-04-08T07:22:00.000-07:00

I've felt so angry with my mother the past few days. I don't believe I'd better describe in detail the reason for my anger; but my fellow caregivers understand. The anger is justified.

What's that? I don't blame my mother's negative behaviors on the disease?

No. I blame her inability to hide her "negative behaviors" (aka, sin) on the Alzheimer's disease. Sin is sin.

However today I had a little bit of a revelation. (I always think of the line from one of my favorite movies, Hook):

Smee: "I've had an apostrophe!"
Hook: "I think you mean an epiphany..."

This particular epiphany should have occurred for me much sooner. I've written a caregiving book, for Pete's sake. Here, belatedly, is my renewed understanding: In a caregiver/patient relationship, if change is needed, the caregiver is the one who has to change.

I am the one who must make the necessary changes to accommodate my mother's needs. Admonishing her won't help, because she can't remember what she did wrong. Becoming irritated by her behaviors might be justified, but doesn't help the situation at all!

The challenge comes because Alzheimer's disease progresses so slowly. My mother has spent a long stretch of time at roughly the same level of functioning, and this allowed me to become used to the status quo. But recently Mom has lost the ability to monitor impulses that she previously was able to control. The behaviors I now see that are disturbing and inconvenient aren't patient issues, they are caregiving issues.

Change is not easy, particularly not for someone like me. I am the proverbial stick-in-the-mud, clinging stubbornly to antiquated ways of dealing with my world in the face of change. (Who prefers a teakettle to heat water anymore, when the microwave is faster and easier? I do!) However, as an Alzheimer caregiver, I must resign myself to the fact that my mother's condition will continue to deteriorate, and that I must accept the responsibility to change my patterns of responding to her as her needs increase.

*Sigh.

I'm feeling comforted today by this Scripture: "I, the Lord, do not change..." (Malachi 3:6).

And by this line from the old hymn "On Christ the Solid Rock:"

In every dark and stormy gale my anchor holds within the veil...

What a relief to depend on the Lord, who does not change, in the midst of all the uncertainties of life. If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to go heat some water for tea.

Transitions

2011-03-29T14:05:00.000-07:00

When I was writing My Mom Has Alzheimer's, I prayed almost constantly for guidance. I worked hard to accurately record messages of comfort and help as I transitioned into the role of being my mother's caregiver. Now, seven years later, I am facing the major life change of moving into early retirement after a career of teaching. For the first time in over twenty years, August of this year will find me at home rather than at the school preparing frantically for the imminent arrival of a group of six-year-olds who need to learn to read. Additionally, my son and his lovely fiancee have planned a July wedding. Faced with this dual challenge to my emotional equilibrium, I've been revisitng the truths God has given me about making successful life transitions.

As my son prepares to embark upon his new life, I remember my feelings when his older sister left for college:

"I came to recognize that if my daughter had difficulties beyond how to cook a pot roast or what cleaner to use on the bathtub, that I was no longer the key designed for that particular lock. She had outgrown me. All mentor/child relationships are temporary—the child grows up. The fact that my daughter no longer required me for sustenance was not a reason for grief, but rather, an indication that I had done my job well. Because of my close emotional tie to her, this was also a gift and a blessing. I was free of my responsibility for her; free to enjoy her" (My Mom Has Alzheimer's: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers, p. 27).

I wrote the following quote in reference to my changing relationship with Mom, but it holds true for the change I am facing in my relationship with my son as he honors the commitment he has made to his beloved wife-to-be:

"It is a difficult transition, made easier by the recognition that although the rules of the relationship change, love remains" (introduction, p.xiv).

And finally, a reminder of the fact that change is a normal part of life:

"Life is full of transitions, and most of us don’t like this fact. We would prefer to attain a place of comfort and safety and clutch it to our hearts to keep, but we are not allowed to do so. Just as ocean tides ebb and flow, our lives are always in motion" (p.28).

Nothing unusual is happening to me. Children grow up and get married, people retire, and loved ones get Alzheimer's disease. However, I learned awhile back that simply because many people undergo the same sort of sorrows, that this does not diminish the caliber of compassion our Heavenly Father holds for any beloved one of us. I know the Lord weeps with me, but I also know He has promised me a future and a hope. It will be interesting to see what the future holds as I prepare to turn the next page in my life's story.

Insight: Anchor your heart to the Lord. Although everything around you may be in a state of upheaval, God does not change.

Scripture: "I, the Lord, do not change" (Malachi 3:6)."

Not What I Had in Mind

2011-03-11T21:59:00.000-08:00

When my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease almost exactly seven years ago, my first response was an overwhelming sense of empathetic love for her. I spent a lot of time researching the latest treatments for dementia. I gladly adjusted my schedule to accommodate her escalating need for my presence. I treated her with teary-eyed solicitousness. No need of hers was too inconsequential to warrant my attention and concern. I gave no thought for myself.

That was a
very
        long
                 time
                          ago.

We are told that Alzheimer's is a terminal disease and also that it is a long goodbye. As caregivers, we don't fully understand either of those concepts when we are at the beginning of our journey through Alzheimer's. The shock of the diagnosis itself along with forced acceptance of the fact that a loved one is going to require escalating levels of care is overwhelming. However, once the ho hum day-to-day routine of taking care of the loved one is established, it is inevitable that at some point a thought such as the following occurs:

"This is not what I had in mind!"

As a Christian I've tried to squelch such thoughts. Although taking care of my mother for seven years and counting is certainly not what I'd have planned for myself, it is obviously the Lord's will for me. There came a point at which I had to choose to give up my ineffective faunching at the bit of my circumstances. This was not an entirely selfless decision; I was uncomfortable, and I was making those around me uncomfortable. There is peace in submission, not to the circumstances themselves, but to the Lord who authored the circumstances. Being able to trust that God is in control is far superior to waking up at 3:00 a.m., trembling with fear of what is going to happen during the next few years.

Unfortunately, this exchange of fear for trust has not been a one time transaction for me. I am sorry to say that even when I am doing my best to abide in the Lord, I am prone to fear. It's not for nothing that Isaiah 41:10 is my life verse: "So do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Another favorite is "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your path straight" (Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV 2011).

If, as a caregiver, you are sometimes overwhelmed by the thought that "This is not how I thought these years of my life would be spent," I pray you can find peace and comfort in the fact of the Lord's authorship of your caregiving journey.

Scripture: "They submitted themselves...like Sarah, who obeyed...You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear (italics mine)" 1 Peter 3:5b-7.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me" (Philippians 3:12).

Dark Thoughts

2011-03-04T07:46:00.000-08:00

A lady from Germany reads my blog occasionally. Through one of her comments on my posts, I followed her link back to her website. It was written in German! I noticed my name and the title of my blog within a string of otherwise incomprehensible-to-me words, and so I copied and pasted a portion of the text into one of those translator sites. Not thinking I would ever read her words she'd written something like this, "Linda Born has helpful things to say about caregiving, if you can get past her conservative religious perspective."

I had a laugh over this, but my next thought was a hope that if anyone who reads my words needs to get past my faith perspective in order to receive the help and encouragement I have to give, that they can do so. Indeed, it is my prayer!

That said, here is my word to you today; don't let shame over dark thoughts keep you from the sustaining, forgiving presence of the Lord. It's not that He loves you despite the sin, but rather that He loves you enough to have provided an escape from the sin. That way is forgiveness. If we don't acknowledge the sinfulness of the negative feelings of resentment, anger, and even hatred, we instead justify those dark feelings by saying that the person who is the target of the dark thoughts deserves them. An Alzheimer's patient is a victim. The old adage "Do not blame the victim" comes to mind.

I've had some very dark thoughts of late toward my mother. Yes, I have in my heart of hearts wished for this trial of caregiving to be over. Nearly seven years of my life have been given in service as a caregiver. The emotional and spiritual burdens of the time have thus far outweighed the physical work of caring for Mom. I've read the experiences of other caregivers, and I am aware I could have it much much worse. Although it has happened occasionally, I have not routinely had to change adult diapers or scrub bodily fluids from the floor or linens. But, I do bathe my mother, provide all her meals, and carry out housekeeping chores for her. She sometimes expresses gratitude, but just as often she is somewhat demanding. My heart takes a daily beating. I can't be gone overnight or even for an evening out without making special arrangements for her.

I'm not always nice to her. Although I know better than to try to reason with a dementia patient, sometimes the injustice of my situation overwhelms me and I try to explain to her why she can't have unlimited crackers and pretzels (she has a bad knee and is overweight), or that the fact that I forgot to change the date on her whiteboard doesn't mean that she is being mistreated. Sometimes she acts as though she is in a luxury hotel and that the paid help is not providing the expected level of service. At those times I feel like her servant rather than her daughter. It is hard to be nice. It is hard to be Godly. It is especially difficult not to react to her negative behaviors with anger and a raised voice, and then later to suffer overwhelming guilt. She is completely dependent on me for all her needs. I am the one who carries all of the power in our relationship. I determine what she eats and when, what she wears, and how much social interaction she will receive during a given day. It is always a sin to misuse power one carries over someone else.

But through all of this I have a deep knowledge that my negative feelings don't remove me from God's love for me.   By continually bringing my resentment, anger, and yes, my sin into God's light, I've been able to accept that while I am not perfect, God is yet able to minister through me to meet the needs of His beloved Anna Ruth. I have been aware throughout this caregiving journey of how precious she is to the Lord. This awareness of the incomprehensible value of my mother's life in God's eyes has been the motivating force behind my willingness to continue to provide her care beyond the length and breadth of human love. And it is my confidence that He loves me with the same intensity that He loves my mother. This assures me that He does not forget me. He's asked this service of me, He has provided strength and resources, and He will see me through it.

My dark thoughts are not acceptable, but they are forgiveable!

So are yours.

Scripture: Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you will rescue me...the LORD will perfect that which concerns me" (Psalm 138:7-8 NKJV).

Sunday Morning Meditation

2011-02-27T05:45:00.000-08:00

This morning I read Isaiah 49. The first few verses of this passage always make me smile, because my last name is "Born." And so when I read, "...before you were born, I called you," the words carry a double meaning for me. I'm always reminded that before I was Mrs. Born, even when I was just Linda, I was loved by the Lord. The same love of God that was with me from childhood carries me now. I am not lost in my roles of wife, mother, teacher, and caregiver; to Him I am loved uniquely and am specially chosen beyond any roles I fill.

For those of you who are feeling lost in your role as caregiver, I would encourage you this morning. The Lord's love for you is not bound to your service to others. He sees beyond your present station in life to the unique heart of you. To Him you are still the child you once were before the burdens you now carry became so heavy. The Lord sees your heartache, He understands, He weeps with you.

Caregiving is a temporary role that we will someday outgrow. Thank God for His strengthening and sustaining presence through all the times of our lives.

Scripture: "Before I was born the LORD called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name... But I said, “I have labored in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing at all. Yet what is due me is in the LORD’s hand, and my reward is with my God” (Isaiah 49:1, 4).

For Lo the Winter is (almost) Past

2011-02-13T09:23:00.000-08:00

I've suffered a virus this week, one of those aching, sneezing, feverish colds that depletes the available supply of Kleenex at an unbelievable rate. Despite liberal use of germ gel and Clorox wipes, this morning my husband, John, woke up with unmistakable signs that he too had fallen victim to this virulent rhinovirus.

"I've caught your cold," he accused.

"It is not MY cold," I replied grouchily. I was a victim. Do not blame the victim!"

And so our morning went.

After John left for work with a thermos of hot tea tucked under his arm, I came back upstairs thinking I would rest awhile longer. I paused at the doorway of my bedroom and surveyed with distaste the crumpled wrappers from cough drops, wadded tissues, and rumpled bed linens. I decided to purge the area of all germs, and as I began to clean I raised the window shades and looked outside. After days of sub-zero windchills and too much snow, the temperature had reached a balmy 45 degrees. Letting go of a negative mindset is not easy, but as I gazed at the melting snow, I allowed myself to feel a hope of spring. I looked at the propane tank that holds fuel for our house furnace, and just beyond it noticed the neat stack of firewood. I thought about how inclined I am to focus on the storms life brings me rather than to thank God for the protection He provides from those storms. Warmth, heat, and light were all ours in abundance throughout this bitter winter.

I turned from the window and came into my little upstairs office room, noticing signs of comfort all around. The little electric heater that warms my feet as I word process...

And the afghan made by my cousin's wife as a Christmas gift about thirty years ago. It has survived many washings intact, and is our go-to source of warmth when the bed doesn't have quite enough blankets. We wander around the house looking for it, because it quite often gets carried to wherever someone wants to settle down to read or watch TV. "Where's that afghan," John will ask, "You know, the one Carol made..."

After several weeks of grousing and complaining about my lot, today I'm willing to admit that God has been very good to us. Life brings its storms. My mom's Alzheimer's disease is just one of the challenges we've faced over the past few years. But when I focus on how God has seen us through, I feel hope. Winter can't last forever, but while it lingers the Lord's comfort and provision will see us through.

Scripture: "You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm..." (Isaiah 25:4)

"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come..." Song of Solomon 2:11-12, KJV

The Unnecessary Embarrassment of Dementia

2011-02-07T20:08:00.000-08:00

This post is the most recent article submitted to our community newspaper for my monthly caregiving column. It is based on the January 19 blog post here at God, Mom, Alzheimer's, and Me; but I thought it worth re-posting because it contains a few additional points. And, I have to admit that I spend more time editing the column than I do the typical blog post. It is a bit more polished. Hope you find some encouragement here today. Blessings, Linda

Most of us remember feeling embarrassed by a parent during our teenage years. One of the times it happened to me occurred the summer I was 13. My best friend arrived at my house unannounced, and my father answered the door wearing what we used to call Bermuda shorts. My excessive humiliation seems laughable now; how silly to be so embarrassed by the fact that my father had legs. Even worse than the embarrassment itself was the horrific guilt over feeling ashamed of my father.

When a loved one is stricken with Alzheimer's disease, there can be a similar sense of guilt-producing shame on the part of the caregiver. Most caregivers attempt to "cover" for their loved ones who have dementia, and a few take it so far as to avoid an official diagnosis. This can't go on indefinitely, because untreated Alzheimer's disease tends to progress in ways that become hard to hide.

When dementia strikes, the patient may no longer respond appropriately in social situations because behavior characteristics that might accurately be labeled “sinful” can no longer be hidden. Since there are no perfect people, this is a universal problem.

I love my mother fiercely and protectively. I remember her as she was pre-dementia, when she was my closest confidante, my number one admirer, and the person who could be depended upon to pray for me any hour of the day or night. When I look in the mirror I am blessed to see a strong resemblance to my mother. I love her so much that when she is gone from me, the ways that I resemble her physically will be a comfort to me; a way that she will remain with me for all of my life. I am determinedly glad for all the ways I am like my mother.

Occasionally, someone will respond to Mom’s dementia related behaviors with disapproval or misplaced humor. When this happens I always wish I could stage a showing of a home movie of my mother as she was 25 years ago. The person who responded negatively to her would be forced to admit that my mother was admirable back then, and that behind the facade of dementia and old age, she is admirable still.

I guard my mother carefully and sometimes keep her separated from social interactions in order to protect her. However, just as I once felt humiliation over my father’s choice of summer attire, I now sometimes experience a sense of unnecessary shame concerning my mother. There are times when it is good and right for me to shield my mother from situations that I know might trigger a negative response, but at other times, I am guilty of being overprotective. My hope for myself and for other caregivers is that we can release the sense of misplaced responsibility that causes us to attempt to control how our care recipients are perceived by others. There is nothing shameful about being afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease.

Right Where I'm Supposed to Be

2011-02-04T07:21:00.000-08:00

When I first began taking care of my mom, I remember struggling against a restlessness that made me feel that caregiving was robbing time from other responsibilities. At first I saw providing care to Mom as an interruption in my life's plan, rather than a holy purpose assigned to me by God. I came to understand that the Lord desired me to have the same kind of commitment to caregiving as I had experienced in my dedication to teaching children to read during my career as a teacher.

I've since learned that it is a mistake to define myself by the job assignments I am given. Back then I thought of myself so strongly in terms of my identity as a teacher that it was difficult for me to cut my job to half time in order to assume the new role of caregiver. And now, as I prepare to retire from my teaching career a few years early, this message has been reiterated to me again and again: I am never to think of myself as being defined by the job I do, but rather in terms of the relationship I have; I am a child of God.

Flexibility is not and has not ever been my strong point. The transition to the role of caregiver was difficult for me just as letting go of my teaching career is hard for me now. I tend to resist new roles until the Lord sort of knocks me upside the head and says, "I am in this! Stop resisting! Blessings are in store!!!"

One of my newer roles is that of grandmother. I love my grandson dearly, long for him when I don't see him for more than a few days; and delight in him when he is with me. However, I'm ashamed to admit that I do not enjoy babysitting. Tending to the needs of a toddler always elicits in me that restless feeling described above, as though I am not doing what I'm supposed to do.

Yesterday my husband and daughter went on a grocery shopping expedition together, and I was left behind, taking care of not quite three-year-old Daniel. We were having a wonderful time, but beneath my enjoyment of this precious child lurked the the oppressive weight of all of my other responsibilities. That restless, ever-present voice in my head whispered that I ought to be accomplishing something else.

I'd pulled out an old teaching unit and found a folder full of colorful, laminated photos of different kinds of birds. As I pulled each photo from the folder, Daniel named them. I was laughing in delight at the fact that he knew "flamingo," when three die cut letters fell from the folder.

"Probably a caption from an old bulletin board," I thought. I looked through the folder to get a clue as to what the caption might have been, but found no more letters.

"D," said Daniel, picking up one of the letters.

"D is for Daniel!" I smiled, once again amazed at my grandson's knowledge.

And then I picked up the other two letters. Slowly, and with the strong feeling that the Holy Spirit wanted me to pay attention, I set them out.

"S for Scott," I said. Daniel's middle name is Scott.

With goosebumps, I put the final letter in place. "Here is an R for your last name, Daniel."

Sure enough, my grandson's initials, DSR, lay before us. There were no other letters in the folder or in the box from which they came. I have no idea why those three letters were placed in the folder initially, because that file hadn't been opened for at least ten years. I know the Lord was telling me there will be opportunities still to use the materials and experience I've gained over the past thirty years as a teacher. Most of all, I understood that yesterday afternoon as I sorted pictures of birds with my precious grandson, I was right where I was supposed to be.

As human beings we long so much to attain a place of security and to remain there. When we draw feelings of self-esteem from any source but the Lord, we will be disappointed. In this life there is no consistency apart from Him. I continue to learn that I am secure only when I find my identity in the Lord.

Scripture: "I, the Lord, do not change..." Malachi 3:6.

Sunday Morning Encouragement for Caregivers

2011-01-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

In one of the Lord of the Rings movies, the elf princess Arwen's father urges her to take the ship to what is the elven version of Heaven, the Undying Lands. Arwen sets out to obey her father, whose desire is to spare her pain. But she sees a beautiful child in a vision, and understands that in addition to the inevitable grief and death that are part of being human, there will also be joy and life. She chooses a mortal life instead of embarking on a journey to what is essentially Paradise.

I remembered this movie scene this morning as I lay in bed, exhausted; asking the Lord's permission to stay home this morning and rest.

As a caregiver I have chosen only to postpone Paradise, not to forgo it. In my imperfect way, I have attempted to follow the example of St. Paul, caregiver extraordinaire. In Philippians 1:20-26, Paul says that he will choose to stay and minister to the people the Lord has entrusted to his care, even though to depart would be much better for him. Paul was talking about whether to die or to live, but I think his words can be extended to include the choice made by all who accept the anointing of caregiver; whether to choose the 'life' of going our own way and pleasing ourselves, or the 'death' of laying down our lives for the sake of someone we love.

As caregivers we have a unique opportunity to follow the example of the One who is the ultimate provider of care to those who are in need, the Lord Jesus Christ. Christ's example of dying in order to live is a template for all Christians, but as caregivers I think we have a special opportunity to learn how to give as Christ gave.

I think the Lord set Arwen's story into my mind this morning to remind me that there is also joy. Being needed is a great blessing. Like most of you, I serve in the role of caregiver not just to my Alzheimer's patient, but to a number of others as well. Sometimes the care I provide is more as an intercessor and confidante than in terms of actual physical labor, but the commitment to be fully present for those who need me is definitely there. It is as though once we as caregivers say to the Lord, "Here I am, take me and use me as you will," that He wants to double and triple and quadruple the blessing He is able to provide through us. And aren't we blessed as a result!

I get tired and cranky. Worse than that, I become afraid, and fear blinds me to the Lord's comforting voice. But this morning I'm aware of His gentle compassion and the warmth of his approval, and I remember that in this caregiving journey, there is indeed joy. I pray each of you can find the joy today.

Shame

2011-01-19T06:34:00.000-08:00

When a loved one is stricken with Alzheimer's disease, there is almost always an accompanying sense of guilt-producing shame on the part of the caregiver. In response to emerging aberrant behaviors in one who was formerly competent and admirable, the caregiver's shame creates a desire to protect the loved one from being unfairly judged by others. Most caregivers attempt to "cover" for their loved ones who have dementia, but some take it so far as to attempt to avoid an official diagnosis. This can't go on indefinitely, because untreated Alzheimer's disease tends to progress in ways that become hard to hide.

Another sad secret is that when dementia strikes, the patient loses the ability to hide sinful behaviors. These tend to emerge and, depending on the individual and the specific nature of the negative behavior, cause varying degrees of difficulty. Since there are no sin-free people, this is a universal problem, and it is one that has caused sorrow for me; not because I was previously unaware of my mother's sins, but because now other people can see them clearly as well.

I love my mother fiercely and protectively. I remember her as she was pre-dementia, when she was my closest confident, my number one admirer, and the person who could be depended upon to pray for me any hour of the day or night. When I look in the mirror I am blessed to see a strong resemblance to my mother. I love her so much that when she is gone from me, the ways that I resemble her physically will be a comfort to me; a way that she will remain with me for all of my life. I am determinedly glad, too, for the ways I resemble her spiritually.

However, Mom has become, in a word, crotchety. She peers at her world from beneath a ferocious frown that I know to have been borne of suffering, but is interpreted by others as anger. Just recently a young nurse responded negatively when Mother barked out a cranky sounding remark and then, in a failed attempt at humor, uttered an expletive when the nurse helped her to the scales and Mom was told how much she weighed. The girl was shocked, and acted thoroughly affronted. I just wanted to pull out a home movie of my mother from 25 years ago and force this young woman to watch it through and to admit that my mother was admirable then, and behind the facade of dementia and old age, she is admirable still.

And Lord preserve me from people who would corner me to tell me of the latest strange or amusing thing my mother has done. I am aware of my mother's oddities. I wish that other people who interact with Mom would understand that, during the rare times I am not the front-line recipient of Mom's dementia related behaviors, I can be kept on a need-to-know basis!

I guard my mother carefully and sometimes I keep her separated from social interactions in order to protect her. I try so hard to protect her from the judgments of other people. Sometimes I have fear that other people misinterpret my commitment to keeping Mom apart.

During prayer time one morning I felt the Lord say to me, "You have false guilt concerning your mother. There is a sense of shame I would have you release to me."

This morning I understand that my commitment to protect my mother is praiseworthy, and not shameful. My prayer for myself and for caregivers who read these words is that we are able to pray for our care recipients, love them, and then to leave in God's hands how they are perceived by others.

Count Every Moment

2011-01-07T08:51:00.000-08:00

Over the past few months, I've become uncomfortably aware of the passage of time. I feel helpless against the inexorable flow of an ongoing parade of moments that can never be recaptured, moments that are bringing me closer to final partings that will cause my heart grief.

This morning during prayer I heard the Lord say,

"Stop trying to make every moment count, and instead, count every moment."

This led me to a feeling of despair, because I envisioned a brow furrowing focus on the passage of time; a helpless observation of days that can never be recaptured. But further clarification came:
"As a teacher, you have striven to recognize the value of each individual child; treasuring their unique characteristics. You have not looked at them as a mass of unidentifiable grains of sand. You have sought to treasure them individually, as the Lord treasures them."

"Individual moments of time can be likened to the students you have cherished. Each of them has value in God's sight. Each is unique, and precious."

"Indwell each moment, and you will see that not one of them is lost. It is more as though each moment well spent is placed in God's bank. The only moments that are lost are those that are not counted. Count each moment as being precious to the Lord."
For today, I will abide in the Lord in the moment I am in, and pray to see the beauty of each precious moment He has gifted to me.

Scripture: "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (Psalm 90:12).

The Confinement of Caregiving

2010-12-22T21:57:00.000-08:00

All of us find ourselves dealing with difficult people from time to time. In fact, I’ve noticed that once in awhile, I am the difficult person with whom someone close to me has to cope!

A few days ago I received a prayer request from a friend who has the daily challenge of interacting with a difficult person of her own. As I prayed, the story of Jonah came to mind; and I remembered the strange way the Lord made provision for him: “But the LORD provided a great fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was inside the fish three days and three nights” (Jonah 1:17).

I wrote an email to my friend saying, “Being confined by any situation not of our choosing can be viewed as a provision from the Lord. God has gifted you through your difficult person. As you've learned to cope with her, you’ve gained virtues of patience, long-suffering, and forbearance.”

As I proofed the email I’d written to my friend, I realized that my words could be applied to a caregiver’s relationship with his/her care recipient. Taking care of someone who has dementia is certainly confining emotionally and usually physically as well. To think of my caregiving duties as a situation the Lord has provided for me reminds me there is no circumstance He has not designed. This is a liberating thought that gives freedom from the misconception that “If only this situation was different, I could be happy.”

If you have been provided a difficult caregiving situation, I hope you are encouraged today by the thought that God plans blessing for you and not harm through the circumstances that seem so confining now. Jonah didn’t stay forever in the belly of that fish! For caregivers, the knowledge that caregiving responsibilities will someday come to an end is bittersweet, because when that day of freedom arrives it will mean that our loved one has departed. God is with through these confining days of caregiving, and He will be with us when this time is done.

An Encouraging Word for Christian Caregivers

2010-12-15T07:41:00.000-08:00

The loneliness of caregiving is intensified by the fact that we tend to think something is wrong when we are in relationship with other human beings but still have a sense of isolation, of not being understood or truly seen; of being alone.

We need to accept that as long as we are at home in the flesh, we are away from Christ; and that this terrible homesickness and longing we feel can’t be satisfied by other human beings. We must accept as a fact of earth-bound life that we will feel lonely; that the only satisfaction for our heart’s needs is in our Savior’s face. We can access Him now, through the Spirit. Things that feed the flesh tend to weaken our perception of Him. Once we recognize this it becomes easier to discipline the flesh.

It’s difficult to accept that happiness--true, complete, lasting happiness--does not exist for us apart from Jesus. We can begin to participate in that happiness now, but flesh wars with the Spirit; and not until we leave the flesh behind will we be truly at home. Accepting this doesn’t have to do with spiritual maturity so much as it has to do with faith and the willingness to accept that on this planet, we are never going to have things just like we want them. Perfection can be found only in the Lord; it does not exist in the material world.

This acceptance is necessary before we can truly let other human beings off the hook for satisfying that aching emptiness within our hearts.

When circumstances require us to assume caregiving responsibilities for a fellow human being, there is a spiritual and emotional transition that must occur. We must come to understand that mature Christian love is Christ’s love, and Christ’s love makes no demands based on personal need. His only demand of us is that we become perfect as He is perfect. We can be perfected because we are perfectly loved by the Lord. That process will not be completed until Heaven, but it can begin now.

When I was a little girl, a dear friend of my mother's, Ruby Roberts, lost her husband to cancer. I was around eight-years-old and could not fathom living alone, as Ruby was doing following her husband's death. I asked her, "Are you lonely?"

She smiled and said, "I am alone, but never lonely. Jesus is with me."

As Christian caregivers I pray that we are able to participate in Christ's presence to the degree that we can say with Ruby, "I may be alone, but I am never lonely."

Name Game

2010-12-04T06:23:00.001-08:00

An occupational hazard of taking care of a loved one who has dementia is fear. Almost every day some minor memory glitch finds me grappling with a low level anxiety that doesn't ever completely recede. I'm afraid that what has happened to my mom will happen to me.

I've never been great with names, which is unfortunate, because I've been a teacher for 30 years; and an almost universal pet peeve of students and former students is running into a teacher who does not remember their name.

Wal-mart is a treacherous place under the best of circumstances, but during the Christmas season everything that oppresses me about the store is multiplied about tenfold. Crowded aisles along with a ridiculous over-abundance of color, lights, and purchasing choices all combine to cause me sensory overload. I tend to retreat inside myself to the point that I might not immediately recognize my own children if I met them cart to cart in the produce section. Unfortunately, it is when I am rushing through the aisles in my Wal-mart induced haze that I am most likely to meet a former student.

Teachers are not helped when parents choose to bestow similar names upon their offspring, who almost always resemble one another. I think of three little boys in our community who are named Tyler, Timothy, and Trent*. These three little T's do not only have names that begin the same; their resemblance to one another is strong. I have actually prayed not to confuse these guys' names, only to find myself calling Tyler, Trent; and then running through each name in succession until the child in question (often with an air of resigned disgust) corrects me.

Last night at Wal-mart a tall, rangy young man with a full beard and long, blond hair asked the dreaded question, "Mrs. Born, do you remember me?"

I actually thought that I did. "David?!" I said.

"Close," he responded. I'm his brother, Daniel. We do look alike. I chatted pleasantly with him for a few minutes and went on my way. I actually felt somewhat self-congratulatory that on a moment's notice I'd managed to find a family resemblance in the 20-year-old I'd last seen when he was six.

In the very next aisle a beautiful young woman approached me. "You probably don't remember me," she said.

Sherie???" I said.

"No, Sheila," she replied. Sherie is my sister and she's over in the clothing department if you want to say "Hi."

In retrospect I don't know whether to feel happy that I was able to remember the correct families or sad that I did not instantly recall the right name for each of those precious young people who greeted me last night. Perhaps I'd best choose to accentuate the positive.

One strong positive has just occurred to me; after approximately 15 years (and 15 pounds or so) they were still able to recognize me!

My former students each possess a portion of my heart, and I hate when I don't recognize them or fail to call them accurately by name. Once again I fall back on God's grace as today I say a prayer for Sheila (and her sister Sherie) and Daniel (and his brother David).

Scripture: "...though she may forget, I will not forget you!" (Isaiah 49:15).

*The children and their same first letter names are real, names are changed.

Alzheimer's is Bad, but God is Good

2010-12-01T05:21:00.000-08:00

Years ago I saw a TV show that contained a scene I've not forgotten, although I have no idea now of the plot surrounding the imagery that's stuck with me over time. An infant was lying inside a special containment area because the child had to be protected from environmental dangers. When medical personnel needed to minister to the child, they placed their hands into long gloves through specially designed portals in the clear box that held the sleeping infant. The baby was completely shielded from bacteria and allergens that might be in the room. Oxygen and food were somehow given through sterile and sealed portals such as the ones that held the gloves.

That scene has been in my mind today as I think about the saying, "Everything comes to us by God's hand."

Sometimes, people who have been terribly hurt by life events take exception to this and similar statements. I don't blame them. If I believed that God had afflicted my mom with Alzheimer's as a sort of blessing in disguise, I would certainly object to the idea that life events that cost us terrible sorrow are actually good in some cosmic way we can't yet see.

In my early days as a caregiver, I struggled with the facts of my mother's suffering and the burdens I carry because of her Alzheimer's disease. I cried out in prayer and sought help through Scripture, aware of the Holy Spirit's comfort and help. In chapter ten of my book, My Mom Has Alzheimer's: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers, I recorded the guidance God graciously provided in response to those prayers:

God does not willingly bring grief or suffering (See Lamentations 3:33;) His will flows over all that is grievous and changes darkness to light (See Psalm 18:28;) all things are incorporated into and transformed by His perfect will (See Romans 8:28;) where time and eternity touch, His will is done on earth as in Heaven (See Matthew 6:10;) we can’t yet perceive what we will one day see clearly because we walk by faith and not by sight. (See 1 Corinthians 13:12.)

We are like that infant in the scene I described at the beginning of this post. No outside influence touches us that is not covered by the protection of God's Hand.

Alzheimer's is not in any way a good thing, but the Lord has blessed us through it. The blessings have come by the Lord's protective power and not from the disease itself.

Good Medicine for a Weary Caregiver

2010-11-29T07:08:00.000-08:00

This family of four penguins graced the tree skirt and child's rocker next to last year's Christmas tree.

During my devotion time this morning it occurred to me that as a caregiver, my emotional and spiritual energy is most often directed toward cultivating perseverance as I navigate my way through grief of loss. This could be likened to a physical diet of meat and vegetables with nary a dessert in sight.

This morning I've remembered that God’s “foolishness” is wiser than the best wisdom of human beings. God is sometimes whimsical—how else do you explain penguins? The Lord’s playfulness is never heavy-handed or awkward, as when an old college professor makes an attempt at humor that he does not truly feel; but is as delicate as the perfect choreography behind the spring dance of hundreds of dragonflies in the air above my front yard. A book could be written about the “foolishness” of God, and it would be a beautiful book.

Last year at Christmastime, I purchased some appealingly funny, nearly life-sized penguins and placed them around my Christmas tree. This afternoon I think I'll put forth the effort required to dig through the back of the storage area beneath the eaves of our old house to find where I've stashed those penguins.

I'm praying for each of my readers right now: may the sweet relief of humor lighten your caregiving burden today.

Scripture: "For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength" (1 Corinthians 1:35).

Caregiver's Dilemma: Coping With Apathy in Dementia Patients

2010-11-19T06:37:00.000-08:00

Note: the following entry is my December column for our community's local, online newsletter, thus the difference in tone from my usual blog entries.

On Easter morning, 2004, I slid into my customary pew at church with several minutes to spare before services were scheduled to begin. I noticed that my mother’s space at the end of the row was empty, and felt a glimmer of worry. She was a stickler for punctuality and never missed church. She taught me always to arrive early, especially for holiday services.

I excused myself and called Mom. “Oh, I just decided to stay home today,” she said. When I reacted with shock, she complied with my wishes and came to church, arriving twenty minutes late. This incident was one of many that let me know something was wrong with my mom.

Apathy is a common side effect of dementia, and is sometimes the first symptom noted. Dementia patients may display indifference regarding schedules in combination with an apparent lack of emotion toward concerned loved ones who object to their behaviors. Symptoms of apathy probably cause more conflict between caregivers and patients than any other early warning sign of dementia. A caregiver may have an intellectual understanding that the care recipient should not be held accountable for disease related responses, but it is difficult to transfer that “in the head” understanding to the heart. The tendency is to react to the loved one based on the relationship that existed before dementia occurred rather than to respond from a caregiver’s perspective.

Apathy may be a result of the physical damage that occurs as the characteristic plaques and tangles of Alzheimer’s disease wreak havoc in the brain, but there is a psychological and emotional basis as well. Forgetfulness and confusion cause dementia patients to lose confidence in the ability to successfully perform everyday tasks. Repeated failures can result in a reluctance to make the effort to try. People who suffer dementia often ask others to carry out tasks they are still physically able to complete, a behavior that in the general population might be labeled lazy or self-centered. However, for the dementia patient, requesting help is actually a viable coping mechanism that helps to compensate for failing memory.

When I respond to my mother’s requests with irritation, I take from her the dignity of retaining a measure of control over her environment. She has learned a new way to get what she needs—she asks!

It is only in recent years that Alzheimer’s disease has been widely recognized and diagnosed. There are doubtless a number of readers who remember a parent or grandparent becoming stubborn or demanding, and only in retrospect have understood that Grandpa’s “hardening of the arteries” and Grandma’s stubborn streak were dementia related. It is my hope that our current, more accurate understanding of the physical basis for the behavioral changes of dementia will ease the sad memories some of us have of the puzzling or hurtful behaviors a loved one exhibited toward the end of life. When my own mother goes home to be with the Lord, I pray to remember her as the vital and loving person she was before dementia robbed her of the ability to think clearly and respond appropriately.

Trusting

2010-11-10T07:38:00.000-08:00

A friend's mother died earlier this week at age 85, after a ten year struggle with Alzheimer's disease.

My mother is 86.

This morning I went into Mom's room to perform my usual morning chores; I opened the shades, changed the date on her whiteboard, and filled the carafe with freshly brewed coffee. I used the TV remote to select the "easy listening" music station, and adjusted the thermostat to Mom's preferred 72 degree level. With the changing season and fluctuating temperatures, it is difficult to keep the room temperature just right; and it doesn't occur to Mom to put on a sweater if she is cold or to open the window if she is too warm. Furthermore, it is an effect of her Alzheimer's to make her believe that however she feels in the moment she is in is how it always is. So if she is too warm (or too cold) she feels exasperated and upset because she thinks this discomfort is her usual state, and not a seasonal anomaly.

Today things were unusually quiet in Mom's bedroom. I usually hear her on the baby monitor as she talks to the cat, or she will call out a greeting when I come into her room. This morning I did not hear so much as a cough.

You may think this odd, but I did not go into her bedroom to check on her. I left her apartment, came upstairs into my part of the house, and began making my bed and straightening my room. It was a blatant denial of the possibility that Mom might have passed away in the night. All the while the baby monitor remained silent.

In the corner of my bedroom is a basket filled with supplies I've prepared for my mom's funeral. I compiled these items at the time that we bought her prepaid burial plan five years ago, when I was asked to write her obituary for our funeral director to keep on file. He said that at the time of a death, people often are not thinking clearly, and it is good to give this necessary task thought and prayer ahead of time. And so, being forced to face facts, I went ahead and gathered items that I thought would make a nice service for my mother. There is a slide show of photos of her life, a collection of picture stands that will hold some of her oil paintings on display, a box of the pink, engraved cards that she included with each picture sold at the arts and crafts shows she attended, and a few of her journals with meaningful quotes highlighted.

Of course, as I cleaned my bedroom I tripped over this basket. "You can run but you can't hide," I thought ruefully.

It is human nature to seek escapism from things that are unpleasant. It is an ongoing challenge to balance the grief of losing my mother with the need to enjoy her in the days that remain.

Awhile later I did open the door to Mom's room and found her enjoying coffee and toast. She greeted me with her usual smile and so, for today, we have one another still.

Prayer: Lord grant me grace to enjoy my mother while she is here. Grant me freedom both from fear of losing her and from fear of being increasingly burdened by the care she may require. I place my faith in You, Lord. I know that You will support and sustain me through joy and sorrow, and through all the days in between. Amen.

Scripture: Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka (bitterness) they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion (Psalm 84:5-7).

The Pitfalls of Being Nice

2010-11-05T18:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of posts ago I wrote about overextending myself to the point of exhaustion as I cooked, cleaned, and cooked some more for my son and a group of his friends. In the midst of my labors I caught a glimpse of insight into my own motivations, and not all of them were selfless. A good portion of my hard work was aimed toward gaining the admiration and appreciation of my son and his friends. I loved taking care of them and seeing them around my table, but did I need to prepare a huge Sunday morning breakfast that none of them really wanted to get out of bed to eat? No.

I have gained a new blogger friend named Carol Noren Johnson, who saw the aforementioned post, and in response shared her book, entitled Getting off the Niceness Treadmill. In the book, Carol writes:

"We get pumped up on our niceness treadmill thinking of what we can do for someone else to the exclusion of our devotion to the Lord, who never needed us to do His work anyway...by helping others we may have short-circuited our own needs and responsibilities" (p. 7).

"I am narrowing my focus on Whom and What I please. Whom is God and What is what He wants" (p. 47).

"Good deeds have to come from godliness purified by Jesus Christ as summed up in Titus 2:11-14" (p. 63).

"Now I dare to care not whether my giving is recognized or even outstanding. Why have I needed that glory! Off the treadmill! I surrender to the Lord and His glory" (p.64).

"I can always say and mean it, "I will pray about my involvement with your need" rather than rush to help. We need to see how the Lord will supply their needs" (p. 66).

"We crown Him, tremble before Him, offer our lives to Him. We do not need praise. We glory that He is praised" (p. 68).

Aren't these great quotes? You can find Carol's book at Amazon.com. And, if you head over to her blog, you'll see that she has reviewed a caregiving book that you may find to be of interest!

Changing Relationship Roles--Stressful!

2010-10-26T07:17:00.000-07:00

Making the transition to the role of caregiver is especially difficult when the care-recipient is someone who once took care of you. When the loved one is a spouse or a parent, becoming that person’s caregiver brings a burden of grief as well as an increased workload. The combination of these two stresses can cause clashes between the caregiver and patient as each suffers through difficulties associated with changing relationship roles.

During the early days of my mother’s struggle with dementia, she suffered confusion and feelings of failure. She understood that her inability to pay bills and remember appointments was causing inconvenience for those around her, and she felt a deep sense of shame. As a new caregiver I was more likely to scold than to provide comfort and reassurance. Despite Mom’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I continued to respond to her as though she was the mother I’d always known.

One of the little frustrations I experienced with Mom was that she struggled to fasten her seat belt, and I had to help her. I didn’t say a word, but Mom had to know from my exasperated sigh and grim expression that she had failed once again. During that time I happened to read an excellent publication entitled “Pocket Reference of Tips and Strategies” by Coach Frank Broyles, whose wife, Barbara, was an Alzheimer patient. When his wife had difficulty fastening her seat belt, Broyles saved her dignity by telling her that all cars have seat belts that fasten differently. This one helpful tip served to be a catalyst for a change in my attitude toward my mother.

When Coach Broyles’ wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, he approached her disease utilizing the same positive approach that made him the winningest coach in Arkansas Razorbacks football history. His “Coach Broyles’ Playbook for Alzheimer’s Caregivers” and the companion pocket reference book that was so helpful to me are available for free download at http://www.alzheimersplaybook.com.

When a loved one is diagnosed with dementia, there must be a release of who that person has been in the past, and acceptance of who they have become. This release is a process and not an event, but with much prayer and a network of support that includes guidance from caregivers such as Coach Frank Broyles, the transition can be made successfully.

Linda’s book, My Mom Has Alzheimer’s: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers, is available at Amazon.com. If you would like a signed copy, contact Linda through her website at http://www.godmomandme.com.

Tired Monday

2010-10-18T08:07:00.000-07:00

My son, Jonathan (front) and his friend Nathan. In November Nathan will be married to his fiance, Becca. What better way to celebrate an upcoming marriage than by shooting targets and fishing??! They do have some incomprehensible-to-me male characteristics, but they are Godly young men of whom I'm very proud.

Our son hosted a large gathering at our home this past weekend in order to celebrate the upcoming marriage of his friend, Nathan. A group of young men gathered for a weekend of hunting, fishing, and skeet shooting; and I chose to have them gather around our table for meals rather than sending them to a restaurant. The most I fed at any one meal was seventeen; and honestly, I loved it. I cooked and baked and cooked some more, but I wore myself out in the process.

God's grace has seen me through. I don't feel well physically today but I know from experience that the Lord is going to strengthen me from His deep well of grace as I walk the path before me.

In the midst of all the hoopla this weekend, Mom sat placidly; reading, listening to music, and enjoying a somewhat higher quality and variety of food than usual as I brought her samples of my baking projects. Thankfully, I've moved beyond resentment toward her for lack of support in my labors as she would have given me in the past. Throughout this weekend I felt only gratitude that she had no issues that would have cost me additional labor.

There are times in life when other people place burdens on our shoulders. Sometimes, the freewill choices of those who love us cause them to need our support, sometimes there are accidents or diseases that could not have been avoided no matter what precautions were taken; and once in awhile, as with my cooking and cleaning frenzy of this past weekend, we place ourselves into jeopardy out of good intentions that we end up lacking strength to see through. Whatever the cause--and most times it is probably a combination of reasons--we can find ourselves depleted and feeling taken for granted.

I'm always a little bit surprised that the Lord rushes so quickly to my defense when I'm aware that at least a portion of the discomfort I'm experiencing is self-inflicted. No one forced me to overeat this weekend! But this morning I'm feeling so much gratitude to God for His unmerited grace. Today God's grace brings with it strength that is going to see me through this tired day.

Thank You, Lord!

Mother-In-Law Addition

2010-10-05T22:33:00.000-07:00

Mom's window, her personal source of light therapy. The furry lump curled in the dry sink is Kitty, who provides pet therapy.


Our house. Mom's addition is on the right, with its own entrance and wheelchair accessible ramp.

One of the many serendipitous outcomes of our somewhat impulsive decision to have mom come to live with us is the fact that her apartment is flooded with spirit-lifting light. I had seen a bay window our builder had done in another home, and asked him to recreate a similar window for Mom. I was thinking only that Mom would enjoy looking out at the bird feeder, and didn't give much thought to the fact that the window would face to the south. The resulting brilliance sometimes causes me to have to stand and blink for a few moments while my eyes adjust to the abundance of light when I walk into my mother's room.

And so, on the few occasions someone has approached me for advice about how to build a "mother-in-law addition," I have recommended southern exposure and a large window. Light therapy is one of the experimental treatments for preventing "sundowning" in Alzheimer's patients. I am convinced that this abundance of light is one of the reasons Mom has done so well.

In the 1920's, my grandparents built a "granny house" for my grandfather's mother. It was a little square building that sat about 20 feet from the main house. I often think of how similar my mother's situation is to her grandmother's, albeit with a few more amenities. Mom's living quarters are separate from the rest of the house, and so we have our privacy and yet are close by. She rarely comes into our part of the house, mostly because she is so much more comfortable in familiar surroundings, but also because we have cultivated the feeling that she is in her own apartment. She has trouble remembering who lives in "the other part," as she calls it, and has learned that we respond to her as though she were Goldilocks checking out someone else's accomodations if she wanders into our part without our knocking first.

Other factors that I believe have helped Mom to maintain her level of functioning for the past six years:

Prescription Medication: Aricept, Namenda, and an antidepressant
OTC supplements: Fish oil, a decongestant, and a multivitamin
Music, most often the "easy listening" channel on DISH TV, but sometimes Christian music or jazz.
Books--favorites include the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder and, always, her Bible.
Spiral notebooks and an abundant supply of pens.
A refrigerator full of diet coke and a carafe full of coffee; caffeine has been shown to improve cognitive function
Her own furnishings and photos surround her, most of which pre-date her Alzheimer's by many years so that she remembers them and is comforted
A pet that provides companionship
Frequent visits from great grandson Daniel, age 2
My husband and I are in and out an average of 6 times a day with meals and/or meds
Friend and respite caregiver Sandy visits twice a week
Handicapped accessible shower and grab bars in the bathroom add to safety and convenience when I bathe Mom or when she uses the bathroom

This has been a wonderful solution for us. If you are considering building a "granny house" of your own, feel free to contact me through the customer contact page at my web site. I will email you with further details of how we made our plans for Mom with the advice of an elder law attorney, and although I won't advise you what you should do in your own situation, I will be happy to answer questions about our way of handling Mom's Alzheimer's disease.

Our solution would certainly not be right for everyone. Mom does not wander, has never been combative; and although she sometimes discusses my negative personality characteristics with the cat, she is rarely openly rude. She is still cognizant enough of what we do for her to speak words of gratitude. This set of characteristics makes her somewhat rare, as far as Alzheimer patients go. But I like to think that at least a portion of her easygoing ways has to do with the fact that she feels content and secure.

Any decision that impacts a loved one's living situation must be surrounded with careful thought and much prayer. Every situation is unique. If you are struggling to find solutions for a loved one who has dementia, my prayers are with you.

Blessings Await

2010-10-01T07:12:00.000-07:00

My son-in-law and grandson

It's interesting and a little bit shameful that I am so suspicious of God's intentions toward me.

It's no excuse that I am stuck on a finite timeline, imprisoned by a body suit, and perceive the world through physical senses; because the Lord has explained that what is really real (eternal) is spiritual and not physical.

Well, that sounded a little bit convoluted, didn't it? I'm sorry.

Let me explain: we walk by faith and not by sight, and when we take our eyes off the Lord we find ourselves walking blind.

OK, I admit it. I've taken my eyes off the Lord and have fallen into fear. Once again I'm struggling with fear of my mother's death, and that fear brings with it dread and depression over the fact of my own mortality. And yet, at the very same time Mom is fading away from me due to her Alzheimer's disease, the Lord has touched my heart with the knowledge that my future holds blessings.

This morning I felt the Lord speaking these words of comfort to me:

Receive my assurance that nothing is amiss. No health crisis looms, no trial awaits; this time of preparation is not meant to prepare you for distress but for blessing. Blessings require preparation as well.

As I contemplated this assurance, a memory from over 25 years ago came to mind.

It was Christmas morning and our three-year-old daughter, Mindy, had been awakened from a sound sleep and instructed to come downstairs to see what Santa had left for her. I was at the foot of the steps, calling her name; camcorder in hand. Mindy slowly entered the room and cast an anxious look around her at a space made unfamiliar by stacks of gifts, which included a huge rocking horse wearing a bow on its head. Overwhelmed, she sat down on the bottom step and began to cry.

If our girl had been awakened gently and given forewarning about the abundance of gifts that awaited her, she would have been been prepared for the blessing of Christmas morning. The abrupt transition from sleep to being confronted with a stack of presents was overwhelming for her.

Sometimes the Lord awakens us gently by providing a time of transition such as the one I'm so suspiciously inhabiting now, as my mother fades from view. During times such as these, He does not need us to train for battle so much as He needs us to be well rested so that the blessings He has prepared for us can be enjoyed to the fullest extent.

Transition times can include grief. The promise that blessings await does not lessen the terrible grief of losing my mother, but it does give me hope for the future.

"In the bulb, there is a flower;
In the seed an apple tree;
"In cocoons, a hidden promise:
Butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter
There's a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season,
Something God alone can see."
from Hymn of Promise by Natalie Sleeth: Copyright © 1986 Hope Publishing Company

You can listen to this beautiful hymn here.

What if My Loved One is Not Saved?

2010-09-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

This beautiful photo is from FreeFoto.com

Last week I received an email through the customer contact page on my website. The man who wrote told me a heart-rending story of his mother's struggle with dementia. She suffered early onset Alzheimer's, the most devastating form of the disease, often striking its victims before the age of 60. His grief over his mother was more intense because he felt uncertain of her salvation.

I felt great compassion and spent time in prayer for this man and his family. In my reply to him there may be comfort for others who feel uncertain of the salvation of a loved one who is ill, or who has died. In the end, our confidence in the Lord's love and perfect plan overrides our fears that we may not see someone we love in Heaven. Here, in part, is the reply I sent:

Our salvation comes through believing in Christ, not through any works or even a formal profession of faith. It is the belief itself that constitutes the faith in Christ that saves us. "This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe (italics mine). There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:22-23).

Although you didn't say so, I imagine that your mom is exhibiting behaviors that are not Christlike, and that this increases your concern over whether or not she is saved. The "all have sinned" portion of the Scripture above is always reassuring to me. My mother, too, exhibits unlovely, un-Christlike behaviors. And because Mom has declined cognitively, she no longer recognizes that she's done wrong. I don't believe she confesses the sins she commits now. But I have no doubt of her salvation. She has believed in Christ Jesus.

We enter into the Kingdom of Heaven by grace and grace alone. It was Christ's blood, the Father's will, and the Holy Spirit's power that purchased our salvation. Nothing is required of us but that we believe in what Christ has done. Of course it is desirable that our faith bears fruit. But Acts 16:31 says, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved."

You have prayed fervently for your mother's salvation. The Bible says, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him" (1 John 5:14-15). And so this leads me to believe that the Lord will assure your mother's place in Heaven.

I would like you to let yourself off the hook for not having led your mom more fervently to the Cross. If you really feel you have sinned in this area, then ask the Lord for forgiveness. Pray that He will heal any sins of omission you committed, and that He will show you how to make restitution if necessary. However, I really don't think this is the case. I think you are experiencing a normal cycle of grief as you lose your mom, and that remorse and guilt tend to be a part of grieving. It must feel like your mom is drowning and you just aren't quite a good enough swimmer to get out there and save her. But please remember that saving sinners isn't something we as human beings are able to do. I remember a story about Billy Graham saying he never saved one sinner. He gave all the credit to the Lord. Jesus said, "But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself" (John 12:32). The Lord Himself is the one who does the "drawing." As human beings the most powerful thing we can do toward salvation for our loved ones is to pray. Your mom has had the salvation message presented to her. She knows of Christ and of His death and resurrection. What has transpired in her heart is between her and the Lord.

I pray God's peace for this man, and for any reading these words who suffer fear or uncertainty over the salvation of a loved one.

Scripture: "But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus...For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast" (Ephesians 2:4-6, 8-9)

What God Pours Through Us

2010-09-02T19:05:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, I was filled with fears of various sorts. This morning, as I prayed about my grief over losing Mom, it occurred to me that everything I feared most as a child has happened to me; I've lost my parents. The unthinkable has become reality, and yet I am fine because of the Lord's abiding presence with me.

My dad died 12 years ago, but my mother lingers as a sort of living memory of who she was. It is sometimes almost uncanny that she still has the same voice and mannerisms, but much of who she was is absent.

Once, not long after my father went home to the Lord, I had a vivid dream of him. It was incredibly painful to see him and to be so clearly reminded of him in that dream. It made me understand the wisdom of the mandate in Scripture that we not seek to interact with the dead. Alzheimer’s disease creates a situation for the caregiver that is reminiscent of the sorrow I experienced as a result of the dream of my dad.

The most difficult aspect of caring for my mother is this ongoing, ever present pain that comes from seeing her face and hearing her voice, but not being able to interact with her through meaningful conversation. She's not able to support me as she once did because she has lost the ability to grasp the nuances and depth of meaning that has to occur for mutually supportive interactions take place.

In spite of all of the pain, it has been sweet to learn of the Lord in the midst of it. A life of comfort would not have brought me to the knowledge and awareness I now have of Him.

With these thoughts still lingering in my mind, I read today's reading from My Utmost for His Highest, by Oswald Chambers, that includes the following quote:

If we believe in Jesus, it is not what we gain, but what He pours through us that counts. It is not that God makes us beautifully rounded grapes, but that He squeezes the sweetness out of us. Spiritually, we cannot measure our life by success, but only by what God pours through us, and we cannot measure that at all.

Ministering to my mom has been sweet, because the sweetness of the Savior is present with me through the joy and through the pain.

Scripture: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance" (James 1:2-3).

The Incredible Value of a Single Human Life

2010-08-18T17:13:00.000-07:00

Mom's beautiful bay window, just one of the many blessed features of the apartment that was built just for her.

This summer I've been reading John Piper's, A Hunger for God. Through this book, the Holy Spirit is doing a work in my heart and mind. I'm being changed in the best possible way; through the sculpting influences of God's Word and God's Spirit.

In his chapter on abortion, Piper's clear teaching on the sanctity of human life has led me to this conclusion: in order to be God's hands and heart as I provide care to my elderly mother, I must respect the value of her life to God.

There is a worldly view of human life that is gaining prevalence in our society; a view that would consider human beings to be just one life form that shares the planet with other, equally important creatures and plants. This is not the view of human life put forth in the Bible. Not only are human beings created in God's image, we are His beloved. It is the love of God for my mother that has time and again turned me from a worldly train of thought that, if followed to its logical end, would lead me to conclude that my mother's life is no longer of value.

In the eyes of the world, my mother is utilizing resources while paying back nothing, but in God's eyes she is precious. I believe He loves her scribbled praises and prayers, and that the sound of her warbling voice singing hymns gives Him joy.

When I was new at the job of caregiving, the inequality of my labor versus Mom's life of relative leisure sometimes caused me distress. The sacrificial service God was asking of me seemed beyond reason. Furthermore, I could clearly see that my mother, although in possession of many honorable traits, was not and never had been perfect; and thus did not particularly deserve such an extravagant display of love. The Lord was gracious to explain to me that I was seeing the fruit of His mercy and grace in my mother's life; she is incredibly precious to Him simply because she belongs to Him:

This was God’s love in action; the sacrificial love that allowed Jesus to die so that my mother could live the life of a beloved child of God. When I began to comprehend God’s grace toward Mom, I was helped toward greater trust in His grace and provision for me. From My Mom Has Alzheimer's: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers p.238

As human beings living in a fallen world we become so easily convinced that there should be a limit placed on the resources and sacrifice expended for the sake of one human life. But in the economy of God's Kingdom, there are no limits; His love is beyond reason. He has withheld nothing from us, not even His only Son. I've been reminded once again that we are precious in His sight.

Scripture: This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers" (1 John 3:16).

Beauty in Unexpected Places

2010-08-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I decided to re-do a little upstairs bedroom in our old farmhouse. OK, let's be honest here; I am the one who made the remodeling decision. Poor Farmer John is so busy in the hayfield and so tired when he comes home at night that he would not have initiated such a project, although to his credit he helped me with every phase of the process. At times (when texturing the ceiling, for example) he took over the work altogether.

Our house is nearly 100 years old, and has its idiosyncrasies. For example, the door to the room we refurbished doesn't belong with the rest of the house. Our theory is that the builders were one door short and so used a door from another building project, or perhaps from an older home that was being torn down. This door has only four panels while the rest of our doors have five, and there is a plate beneath the doorknob that the other doors do not have. The hinges and the doorplate had been painted over so many times that I took them off and applied paint thinner to remove multiple layers of color. As I scraped away at the doorplate, this is what emerged:

The way I carried on you'd have thought I'd won the lottery. It was such an amazing feeling to see that beautiful pattern emerging from beneath the layers of sticky old paint.

I'm sure you can see it coming. I'm about to draw an analogy here! But that's the way the Lord speaks to me, so go with me on this...

I can't see beauty in my Mom's Alzheimer's disease. The disease itself is like those layers of sticky paint that hid the pattern beneath. Alzheimer's is a travesty, an invader; a robber and a thief. It takes so much from an individual and from a family. It robs not only the memories of the patient, but also the memories of those who care for her. It is hard now for me to remember who my mother was before Alzheimer's. However, I have it on good authority that when my mother goes home to be with the Lord, that the effects of the disease will fade away much as those layers of paint dissolved. And beneath will be not only my memories of the mother I once knew, but also the beauty of the pattern of God's perfect plan. I can't see it now. Someday I will. Meantime I have faith that God has a plan, and that it is a good plan.

Scripture: "But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain" (1 Corinthians 15:57-58).

Like a Well-Watered Garden

2010-08-03T07:41:00.000-07:00


The little kitchen garden just outside my back door, with its lush crop of two varieties of basil (and non edible petunias)! Note the water hose in the upper right corner of the photo. Frequent watering has kept this little garden green and growing during the triple digit temperatures we've experienced the past few days.

My cousin Pam is a woman of God who has withstood many assaults on her heart and her faith. She nursed her husband, Brad, through the cancer that took his life at age 51, and was holding his hand as his spirit left his body. God's ways are not our own, and at the point at which a human administrator of life might have designated Pam's grief quota to be complete, she's had other sorrows to bear. And yet over the years her faith has deepened while her sense of peace and well-being in the Lord has increased.

Isaiah 58, sometimes called the fasting chapter, tells us that when we give to the Lord that we will become like a well-watered garden, bearing fruit even in times of drought. Pam is a generous person, giving unreservedly to her children and to her Lord. Recently she said to me, "I need to be cautious, because sometimes I give without praying."

In one of those Spirit driven flashes of insight into my own sin I replied, "I think I tend to pray without giving."

If we had to chose one sin or the other, I think it would be better to err by over-giving than on the side of ignoring God's nudges to meet the needs of those who are in need. If Pam's life is any indication, the fruits of a giving heart are well worth pursuing.

When we are identified with the Lord, His concerns become ours, and then our giving is sanctified by His own heart. I'm thanking God today for the presence in my life of my generous cousin, friend, and sister-in-Christ, Pam.

When you have time, stop by Pam's blog. I especially like her reading about flexibility in one's quiet time . Here is the link for the home page of her blog, which is called "Somewhere in Time." And if you would, say a prayer for Pam today.

Scripture: "The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail" (Isaiah 58:11, NIV).

Fear of My Mother's Dying

2010-07-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

Last weekend my husband and I attended his mother's family reunion, a huge affair complete with a sign-in book, name tags, an amazing variety and quantity of food, and about 250 people we were supposed to know. There are so many members of this family and they are so prolific that, apart from this biennial reunion, they would completely lose track of one another. Even so, it was common to hear whispered queries of "Who is that?" The children were particularly hard to track. They moved too fast for us to focus upon their name tags, and they tended not to stay with their immediate families!

The M.C. for the program portion of this event was Max, the family's version of David Letterman; complete with sly humor, engaging grin, and witty repartee. This year, however, Max's comments were tinged with sorrow. His father passed away earlier this year, and Max was with him when he died.

As he stood before the crowd, Max shared, "My dad fought death. And even after he was gone, his body continued to fight. I tell you, it's not just an easy 'lights out' like they show you in the movies."

I shuddered. I thought of my own father's death. My husband was with Dad when he died, I was not. John won't answer my questions about the particulars of Dad's passing and I wonder if this is why? Perhaps there was a death struggle. Perhaps it was horrifying for John.

And then I thought of my dread of my own mother's passing. I will probably be by her side. I felt fear, and no small annoyance with Max. "What I did not need here today," I thought, "Was a description of a not-so-peaceful passing followed by rigormortis."

The morning after the reunion I was especially tired. I'd painted the ceiling in one of the little upstairs bedrooms the evening before, and my middle aged muscles were aching. As I lay in bed, I stretched my tired muscles; one of those full length, luxurious, to the tips of your fingers and toes type of stretches ending in one last shuddering, tightening of every single limb and muscle; and then I collapsed into a state of complete relaxation. It was pleasant, there was nothing awful about it; it was just my physical body's response to being overworked the day before.

As I lay there the Lord touched my heart and I saw the correlation you've probably already made. Rigormortis is simply a part of the physical body's release of the spirit. It is not awful. It is not horrifying. It is a tension and release similar to my stretching followed by relaxation.

The Lord has spoken to me about this before. Here is a quote from My Mom Has Alzheimer's: Inspiration and Help for Caregivers:

I saw my body as a fragile shell housing a precious treasure. Our physical bodies are like the alabaster vase that held the nard Mary poured upon the feet of Jesus. The vase was broken to release the perfume. Each of us is headed toward an appointment with physical brokenness because no one escapes physical death. Sometimes the process of death is painful and for just a little while, we are preoccupied with the breaking of the container, but then the fragrance of Christ flows forth as the spirit is released.

Death is not lovely, but though we must walk through the valley of its shadow, there is no need to fear. In just a little while we will see Jesus and no one will take away our joy. Until that day we have the Holy Spirit in our hearts as a deposit; a guarantee of what is to come. We have a promise that will not be broken; grief will turn to joy.

I have been so afraid of what I may have to see and experience as my mother goes through the process of dying. I am beginning to rest in trust in the Lord. If He allows my heart to break, He is able to mend it together again. God is with me. I will not be afraid.

Scripture: “You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (John 16:20b-22).

God Has a Reason

2010-07-26T09:31:00.000-07:00

My mother has lived with us for six years. She is completely dependent on us for all of her basic needs, but is quite content to spend much of each day alone, reading the books we provide and listening to the music we choose for her. Caregiving duties are sometimes oppressive, but what if I change the way I think about these responsibilities? Perhaps my mother has somehow chosen to stay with me for this extended period of time because of her love and concern for me. What if I choose to focus on the blessings of this time we are spending together?

I do know that my mom's illness is blessing me with the time I need to adjust to the fact of her leavetaking.

St. Paul said that it would be far better for him to depart this mortal life and to be at home with the Lord, "...But for your sakes, it is better that I continue to live (Philippians 1:23-24, NLT)." On days when I feel so stressed over wondering when and how my mother will finally leave me, it is a comfort to recognize the ways the Lord is blessing me through her extended time with us. In so many ways it has been better for me that she has stayed.

This morning I talked with a friend whose brother has just passed away. She said, "I believe everything happens for a reason. I'm having trouble figuring out the reason for this, but I know there is one." This more positive way of looking at Mom's Alzheimer's disease leads me to a train of thought in which I begin to make conjectures about the Lord's reasons for allowing these circumstances, but the conclusions I draw may be inaccurate. God has His reasons. I won't always be able to understand, in fact, I know that as Hannah Whitall Smith says, my part is to trust, while God's part is to act.

However, today I've been comforted by imagining a conversation between my mom and the Lord that might have gone something like this:

Lord: You know, Anna Ruth, Linda is going to have a terrible time letting you go.

Mom: (With a tear in her eye) Yes, Lord, I know. What can I do?

Lord: Well, there is a solution that will ease her pain and help her to make the transition to life without you, but you may not want to consider it.

Mom: Anything Lord, what is your plan?

Lord: Alzheimer's disease.

Mom: (Scarcely hesitating) If it will help my girl and honor you, well of course, Lord. Let's do it. I know you'll be with me in it, and I've found your yoke easy and your burden light.

Lord: (Smiling) I will be with you.
***************
Thinking about my mom's illness in this way helps me accept the slow loss of the mother I knew and to cope with the behavioral changes that hurt my heart. God is with us.

A Woman of God...Sometimes

2010-07-18T13:15:00.000-07:00

This morning my daughter, Melinda, told me of a comment from a friend of hers who is reading my book. Melinda's friend is not new to the concept of caregiving, having nursed her own mother through a lingering illness until her mom passed away. Of this time in her life she said, "I just loved taking care of my mother."

This brought me up short. I love my mother. But I do not love taking care of her. The precious young woman who uttered these words is 25 years my junior, and her day (and night) job consists of taking care of her five month old twins who were born prematurely and have special needs.

I often experience an uncomfortable suspicion that I am not as good or Godly a person as I ought to be, and when I encounter such Holy Spirit fed sweetness as exhibited by Melinda's friend, I become certain of it.

This same young woman went on to say, ""I love your mom already and I haven't even met her. She has such a great way of expressing what she has to say."

In response to this kind comment I wrote the following message to my daughter via an email:

I appreciate your friend's kind words. Thank you for passing them along. I am, of course, more likable via a medium (my writing) in which one doesn't have to live with me from day-to-day. But there truly is a lot of me in the book, and because it was written with a daily prayer that it be for God's glory, the portion of me that is apparent through my writing is the part that will remain when God's refining fire gets done with me. So, your dear friend will recognize me right away when she meets me in Heaven, but stands a good chance of being unpleasantly surprised if she meets me before then! Meantime, it is sweet that she loves the person I will someday be. I love her back."

All of this brought to mind a truth the Lord has been speaking to me for some time; whenever we place our confidence in fellow human beings, we will eventually be disappointed. As a woman of God (sometimes) and a Christian author, I have more than once had the sad experience of seeing disillusionment in the eyes of someone who had admired me or looked to me as a role model. This can happen when I am overheard snapping at my husband, or being flippant, or responding with angry or hurtful words in response to some small hurt; but sometimes it happens through no sin of mine at all, merely as a reaction to the revelation that I am human. We don't like to see our role models fall from their pedestals.

A few years ago I learned that a pastor I overheard speaking harshly to his wife on a Saturday afternoon nevertheless had some Holy Spirit fueled instruction for me from the pulpit on the following Sunday morning. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that the pool of perfect people from which God has to choose contains no members. Once we become legitimate members of the family of God through the forgiveness that is ours in Christ, God begins to use us for His Holy purposes even while He is in the process of burning away the dross. And so it becomes necessary for us to recognize that God can use imperfect people to instruct or to help us, and that He can use us--while we are yet sinners--to help others. We don't have to wait to be perfect to be of use to God, and we don't have to wait for our authority figures and role models to be perfect in order to learn from them. As Christians we are not perfect, we are only in the process of being perfected.

Scripture: "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you" (Ephesians 4:32 NIV).

"Far better to take refuge in God than to trust in people" (Psalm 118:9, The Message).

The God of Little and Big

2010-07-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

It is a seeming contradiction that while Lord places a great urgency in our hearts to spread the Gospel, He is simultaneously willing to take all the time necessary to bring about His perfect will in our lives. Sometimes that entails a period of rest; but rather than restful I've felt restless during these slower-paced summer days when I am supposed to be abiding in the Lord. This summer I've chastised myself for spending time with such inconsequential pursuits as shopping for home decorations, but an incident that occurred earlier this week helped me to think differently about this and other activities that do not seem to be directly related to spreading God's Word.

I am always surprised when the Lord reveals His intimate involvement in the seemingly mundane moments of my seemingly unimportant little life. For example, last week I noticed Queen Anne's lace has burst into bloom along our roadside ditches and in the pastures. I picked a single blossom and placed it in a bud vase on my kitchen table. Intrigued by the intricacy of the stems and the many tiny blooms that make up a single flower, I photographed the blossom from the underside (above).

On Wednesday evening I took a half price off coupon and headed to a little shop near my home that offers items of surprising variety and beauty for a small town store. I found the print pictured below and was delighted to bring it home. I hung it over the mantle in my living room.

I stood back and admired it and then felt a twinge of guilt. I wondered whether the Lord approved of me spending money on such a frivolous object. I was still staring at the picture as these thoughts ran through my mind and suddenly I noticed that the white flowers depicted in the print could very well be Queen Anne's Lace, and that the blossom at the top center is depicted from the underneath side, in a similar way to the photograph I'd taken a few days earlier. I went in to have another look at the blossom that was still gracing my kitchen table, and found that it had opened further, increasing its resemblance to the flowers in the picture I'd just hung.

I think we underestimate the degree to which God's love and involvement extend to every facet of our lives. I am not, so far as I know, accomplishing great things for the Kingdom of God this summer, but rather I am immersed in the ordinary duties of my ordinary days. I am humbled and thankful to be shown that the Lord is present with me whether I'm picking a wildflower by the roadside or am involved in activities that I would judge as being more important.

Scripture: "...God is with you in everything you do." (Genesis 21:22)

Times of Refreshing

2010-06-29T22:13:00.000-07:00

I’ve been suffering a really uncomfortable summer version of the flu, complete with fever, body aches, and stuffy nose. This afternoon I’d taken meds and was laying in bed, near sleep, when I heard Mom’s voice over the monitor. She was singing hymns to herself, and in my half-awake state I had the sensation that the voice belonged to the mother of my childhood; my mama singing to me, focused on me, concerned for me. But then, in the same way one regains awareness of reality when awakening from a dream, I came to the present. In that not-quite-awake place where my conscious mind’s defenses did not reach, grief of loss had found its target. I was surprised by the intensity of the emotion. I felt despair. Resentment, anger, terrible love for my mother, and a sense of having been abandoned by her suffused me.

Miserable physically and hurting in my emotions, I cried out to the Lord. I begged him for refreshment of spirit.

Awhile later I began to chill. I lay huddled in bed awhile and then it occurred to me that just outside my front door the concrete steps were heated to egg frying temperature by the blast of the midday summer sun. I sat on the steps for awhile and then threw a blanket down onto the sun drenched grass. I stretched out and soaked in sunlight until I felt thoroughly warmed.

I got to my feet and wandered about the yard for a bit, then pulled the spigot on the hydrant and refilled the bird bath. I then turned the flow of cold water onto my bare arms to cool them from the sun’s heat. I watered the hosta and admired the beauty of its lavender blossoms, just beginning to unfurl.

When I came back inside I felt well enough to do a few household chores, and then I retreated to the couch to rest. I felt so much better. The Lord had answered my prayer.

As caregivers, I believe our most difficult and vulnerable moments occur when we feel weak or infirm. This is especially true if the care recipient is someone who once provided nurture and support that is no longer present. A time of need will cause emotions of grief over the loss of that relationship to surface. Illness, even a temporary case of the flu like mine, will cause childlike emotions; and today I longed for my mother's support.

God is so good. He heard my childlike cry and soothed my aching body and my troubled spirit with sunshine and simple beauty. Tonight, though my flu symptoms are still present, I feel peace.

Scripture: "...turn to God...that times of refreshing may come from the Lord" (Acts 3:19).

Don't Do Without Her Before You Must

2010-06-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

My Mom has lived with us for nearly six years. This has worked for us because Mom has her own space, a three room apartment adjoining our home. Over the years she's learned to think of her apartment as her "house," and her Alzheimer's has not yet progressed to the point that she habitually dispenses with deeply ingrained social rules. For example, she still understands that she should not enter someone else's house and roam around at will! Oh there have been times when, like Goldilocks, Mom has entered our part of the house when we weren't at home; but she is generally happier and more at ease in her own familiar space. And so, we have our space, and she has hers; and in this way we've all survived quite nicely.

I take good care of my mother. I bring her three meals and two snacks a day, empty her trash cans, do all of her shopping and assist with much of her personal care. I've negotiated the transition from the role of dependent daughter to dependable caregiver quite nicely, thank you.

However, a side effect of keeping too strict a perspective as caregiver is that I suffer an unfortunate tendency to detach from the emotional connection I shared with my mother in the days that I interacted with her as a daughter. I always said that my mom was my best friend, and in those days I would call and beg her to come to spend time with me, or I would show up unannounced at her house. In short, I enjoyed her company. As I transitioned to the role of caregiver I grieved over the loss of this kind of connection with my mom, and for the most part it was easier and somehow safer emotionally simply to detach. This is sad, but grief is a portion of the burden of being either a caregiver or a care recipient.

This afternoon, as a part of my caregiving duties, I sat down with my mom in her apartment. Our respite care provider is on vacation and I knew Mom needed the stimulation of conversation. She was entertaining herself by singing snatches of old hymns, and so I rummaged through a box and found the hymnal she'd used as a child at Union Church in the Ozark Hills of Missouri. About twenty minutes later I suddenly realized that I was no longer interacting with Mom in my role as caregiver, but was myself receiving nurture from my mother's voice, the familiar hymns, and undoubtedly from the presence of the Holy Spirit.

My relationship with mom will never again be what it once was, but I pray for the ability to continue to find ways to enjoy her for the person she has become, and not just as someone who needs my caregiving services.

And I Wonder Why the Cat Doesn't Like Me

2010-06-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

An unanticipated caregiving challenge has been the necessity of adjusting my life to serve not only my mother's needs, but those of her cat. It isn't that I don't like cats, it's just that this particular animal, dubbed "Kitty" by my mother, does not particularly like me. I feed this cat, groom her, and talk sweetly to her to no avail.   Kitty treats me with disdain.

To make matters worse, a sort of sibling rivalry has developed between Kitty and me. If ever I make an even faintly critical remark about cat hair on the couch or claw marks on the woodwork, Mom defends her pet vigorously and chastises me for my complaints. "She's just being a cat," Mom says, "And she's a wonderful pet."

The only time Kitty is accepting of my presence in Mom's apartment is first thing in the morning, when she perhaps feels lonely because Mom has been asleep. At night Kitty must miss the steady dose of endearments and admiration that Mom lavishes on her pet during the day. And so, when I appear early in the morning, I find a higher level of feline acceptance than at any other time. I take this opportunity to stroke Kitty's soft fur, and have found that if I take a strip of duct tape and run it lightly down her back that I can remove a lot of hair that otherwise would end up on the furniture. The animal seems to enjoy this process, arching her back and purring.

But this morning Kitty was distracted by a goldfinch that landed in Mom's feeder just outside the window, and made a sudden and unexpected turn just as I stroked down her back and tail with my strip of tape. Somehow the two ends of the tape stuck to one another around her tail. I quickly attempted to disentangle it but succeeded only in pulling it tighter. Alarmed at the tugging going on at her back end, Kitty let out a yowl and lept from the window seat. She ran under Mom's bed and I could hear her thrashing and meowing as she attempted to pull the tape from her tail with her teeth.

There ensued a fifteen minute rodeo as husband John and I chased the cat around Mom's apartment. Poor Mother was still in bed and asked, "Now, what's the problem here?" As I ran past brandishing a large bath towel with the intent of wrapping the cat in order to avoid being clawed, I tried to explain. Mom closed her eyes tightly and appeared to be praying--probably for the cat.

I finally captured Kitty who, to her credit, neither bit nor scratched me. I handled her swaddled form to John, extracted the tail, and used fingernail scissors to free her of the sticky tape.

Somehow I think that my early morning quality time with Kitty has come to an end.

A Future and a Hope

2010-06-15T19:09:00.000-07:00

I've been suffering from a discouraging, debilitating exhaustion as I struggle to lose weight. I've begun taking a statin which has caused muscle aches, I've been fretting more than usual about my ability to continue to care for Mom as her level of need increases, and I am just...so...tired.

Today in the car as we were on the way home from a grocery buying expedition, I turned to my husband and said, “How does anyone have energy to accomplish anything? How does anyone ever build a house or landscape a yard or plant a garden? How did Mother Teresa find strength to nurse the sick and feed the hungry? For that matter, how do evil dictators find the energy to take over countries and carry out their dastardly plots—think how much energy that must take? I'm so exhausted that I can't even figure out how to just take care of my home responsibilities, much less accomplish anything impressive.”

I lapsed to silence and stared out the car window. I prayed for help, and then scribbled the following words onto the back of the grocery list:

"There are no perfect solutions this side of Glory, but in the midst of every solution, at the heart of every outcome; there is God."

I came home and crawled into bed, still fully dressed. I was feeling that I'd always been exhausted, would always be exhausted, and despite the Lord's encouragement given me on our way home, my thought processes went something like this: "What's the use, why try; and really, who cares? All I have to do is to make it through this world and then head home to be with Jesus, which after all the Apostle Paul said, '...is better by far.'" I fell asleep and slept soundly for two hours.

When I awoke this Scripture was in mind, ""Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you" (1 Kings 19:7).

I didn't move. "I'm on a diet, Lord," I reminded Him.

Then, a bit nervous for speaking to the Almighty in a flippant tone, I said, "I guess You already knew that."

I pulled my computer onto my lap and found 1 Kings 19 at Biblegateway. The prophet Elijah is frightened for his life, discouraged, and exhausted. He flees to the desert and falls asleep, and an angel awakens him with instructions to eat.

And so I came downstairs, fixed myself a generous plate of leftovers from the fridge (keeping in mind that Elijah went in the strength of his angelic meal for 40 days, I assumed the Lord intends me to reinstate portion control tomorrow), and sat down in front of the TV. President Obama was just finishing his address from the Oval Office regarding the crisis caused by the oil disaster in the gulf, and I switched on the set in time to hear him say the following words, a quote from a former fisherman and priest regarding the annual blessing of the fleet of fishing boats that head out into the gulf each year, some of them for months at a time:

"The blessing is not that God has promised to remove all obstacles and dangers. The blessing is that He is with us always; a blessing that's granted even in the midst of the storm."

Tears began to roll down my face as I recognized the similarity between the thought that had come to my mind in the car on our way home this afternoon and the president's words. Sometimes I'm a little bit slow on the uptake. Today it took an affirmation of the Lord's words given through the President of the United States for me to get the message.

Thank You Lord. Thank You for being our future and our hope. Thank You for Your unfailing presence with us.

Scripture: "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,'" (Jeremiah 29:11).

Time to Rest

2010-06-08T19:49:00.000-07:00

As I came back up the driveway following my morning walk, I was greeted on the front porch by the mama cat I call "Pretty Kitty." She has five kittens living under the ramp that goes to Mom's entrance.

We had a morning rain shower just at sunrise, and so it was very humid as I walked along. The temperature had reached nearly 80 degrees by 8:00 a.m. When I got to the steep incline of the driveway that leads to the rock quarry south of our house, I was entranced by the sight of dozens of dragonflies swooping and diving just above the grass, disturbed by my footsteps. At dusk they will fly twenty to thirty feet in the air over our heads as Mom and I take our evening walk around the driveway. They are carnivorous hunters of smaller insects, and I always feel they are protecting us from Kansas mosquitoes, which have been known to carry off new calves and small children. Well, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but we do grow 'em big around these parts!

The milkweed is beginning to bloom. It fills the air with a sweet, heavy fragrance that is at its best just following a rain like the one we had this morning.

I feel the Lord has directed me to rest during June. I feel disoriented, anxious, and guilty. Yes, guilty. I feel I should be doing great things for the Kingdom, and instead I'm taking walks and literally stopping to smell the flowers! But the Lord's direction to me to rest has an edge of warning that I know I'd best not ignore. I have learned that if I don't rest when He says to rest that He is able to arrange time off for me. I remember the summer I spent with my foot in a cast. Voluntary rest is to be preferred over enforced rest! Father help me to honor You in this time of rest. Help me to be disciplined in my rest. This is not a time to pursue whatever activities I want, it is a time to move deeper into my relationship with the Lord.

Scripture: Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28).

Vindication

2010-06-03T08:17:00.000-07:00

Most of us fail to receive recognition that might be termed "deserved." I've concluded that this fact is actually a relief of sorts; because if anyone examined me so closely as to take note of my selfless acts of service, they would also see many other behaviors; the ones that are not so praiseworthy. I wouldn't want a record kept of my pettiness, rudeness, and general sinfulness.

However, I've found that my own records of my past behaviors are not so accurate as ones that would be kept by an impartial observer. I tend to excuse the the hurts I've dealt, and to magnify the ones I've endured. In this way, I've built quite a portfolio of "wrongs received," and I've bemoaned my injuries at length through prayer. Sensing God's great love and compassion, I have too often concluded that He is in full agreement with me that I am right and those I deem responsible for the hurts I've suffered are wrong. The inaccuracy of such a view lies in the fact that because God has forgiven me my many wrongdoings, He expects me to forgive others. To enjoy His grace to me but to fail to treat others with the same compassion places me in the path of His judgment. God takes a dim view of those who enjoy unmerited favor but then do not extend it to others (see the parable of the unmerciful servant).

Since my book has been published I've prayed almost daily to be protected from the sin of pride, and that nothing in me would hinder the Lord's work through me. It's my heart's desire to comfort with the comfort Mom and I have received through God's grace to us on our caregiving journey. So, yesterday morning when I felt that familiar nudge in my spirit that told me the Lord wanted to correct me, I immediately feared I'd been prideful, and proceeded to repent. I knew I wasn't quite on target and prayed for the Lord to explain to me what was wrong. Here's what came to mind, written as to me from the Lord:

It’s this attitude you have of vindication. It’s as though the recognition you’ve received for writing a book has vindicated you; proven that you are of value after all. I want for you the confidence that you were always of value. Being recognized has nothing to do with the fact that you are precious and of great worth in my sight. Your status with Me has not changed simply because you wrote a book. I remember your travail. I honor your tears; I’ve collected them all in my bottle. The writing was your labor, the delivery came by My hand; and the fruits are with Me as well.

Someone who seeks vindication is going to fall to the sin of vindictiveness. Not a nice way to be. Not a Godly characteristic. Lord forgive me for and cleanse me of a vindictive spirit, in Jesus' Name I pray.

We are precious and of great worth in His sight apart from any achievement or failure; apart from any recognition or lack thereof. I suppose that such silly, sinful people such as myself will misinterpret God's grace as being God's acceptance of our sin. Not ever. Not at all. I'm a sinner saved by grace and grace alone, as are the fallen human beings who have caused me harm. As are you.

"Not because of who I am, but because of what You've done, not because of what I've done, but because of who You are..." from Casting Crowns "Who Am I," (here is the Youtube link to "Who Am I" with lyrics).

Scripture: For the Lord will vindicate his people, and have compassion on his servants" (Psalm 135:14).

Trust

2010-05-21T06:29:00.001-07:00

I've had trouble sharing my thoughts of late because I've hesitated to belabor the point that I'm in an uncomfortable place right now. I've been waiting for some humorous incident that would elicit a lighthearted anecdote. I wanted to bring smiles to my readers' faces.

This morning it occurred to me that the people for whom I write--caregivers--are well aware that the caregiving journey includes times of struggle and tears.

All my life decisions now are contingent upon my mother's presence in our home and my continuing responsibility to her. After a time of uncertainty during which the special reading program I've run for 11 years was cut from our school's budget, I grappled first with the possibility of being released from duty after 30 years as a teacher; and then with the realities of a change in my job description when I was finally offered a contract for another year. During that time of uncertainty I struggled before the Lord, contending with fear. If I gave up my job in order to provide care for my mother, her social security check and the small salary she pays me for taking care of her would become my only contribution to our family's financial well-being. Mom's condition will continue to deteriorate, and I did not want to be financially dependent upon a source of income that will evaporate overnight if and when she needs rest home care.

I know that when at all possible, caregivers should not choose to become financially dependent on their care recipients. If this occurred due to circumstances outside my control, then, God knows best and would provide. However, as I worked my way through uncertainty and grief, it seemed clear to me that giving up my employment is not an action I should initiate.

On the other hand, I suspected myself of depending on some other source than the Lord for my sustenance, and I suffered guilt. For a time I considered resigning my job as a sort of leap of faith, to prove to the Lord I trusted Him where I could not see. This path also offered the attraction of escaping the possibility of being pink-slipped. I would resign before having to suffer the humiliation of being told I was no longer of value professionally.

This morning, having decided to sign that contract, I prayed, "I doubt myself, oh I doubt myself Lord. Maybe I refused the incarnation You were placing before me. Maybe I got to the threshold and turned back." I thought perhaps He was desiring me to launch out in faith, to give up my fear of being bound to serve my mother's needs past my physical or emotional capacity to survive the burdens intensive caregiving would bring. I prayed, "Lord, my release to You of my job and my income was not a conditional release. I was and am willing to go through the fear and grief of whatever loss You might allow me…key word, “through.” I trust You to bring me through."

But I felt concern that I'd failed some kind of a test, that the motivations behind the course of action I'd chosen were not pure. Fear of financial lack and of being stressed beyond my ability to bear by caregiving duties didn't seem to be Godly motivations. I prayed, "Please don’t let me have failed You."

In response I received this comforting word from the Lord:

I will not fail you. Trust Me. I am Sovereign over your circumstances; over your going out and your coming in. I am with you if you go and I am with you if you stay. My presence will not leave you, I will not forsake you for all the days you walk upon the earth, and afterward I will bring you safely home to Glory. Your fear is that you will lose the light of My presence. Do not be afraid, I Am with you. This is my promise to you.

Regardless of our circumstances as caregivers, we can trust the Lord to gather all our tears, to heal all hurts, to right all wrongs; to bring complete victory in a way that makes all that has been bitter, sweet.

Scripture: "This is the LORD, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation" (Isaiah 25:9).

"But I said, "I have labored to no purpose; I have spent my strength in vain and for nothing. Yet what is due me is in the LORD's hand, and my reward is with my God" (Isaiah 49:4).

"But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my God.' My times are in your hands" (Psalm 31:14-15).

Devotions for Alzheimer's Patients

2010-05-18T07:13:00.000-07:00

I want to get the word out that there are devotions for Alzheimer's/dementia patients available via my website. There is a sample devotion at the site, and a link that navigates to a page that includes ten additional devotions. If this feature becomes popular I will add more devotions. Each reading includes a link to traditional hymns at the Cyberhymnal, so that caregivers can quickly access high quality midis to use along with the devotion for their care recipients.

Music is a wonderful way to communicate God's love to dementia patients.

Lilac Blossoms and Movie Quotes

2010-05-06T13:07:00.000-07:00

One evening in mid-April, we had a rainstorm, the kind my husband calls a "thunder-boomer". Overnight nearly four inches of rain fell, and the next morning I was disappointed to find that the deluge had washed away a good portion of the sweet scent from the blossoms on our big lilac bush. Just a few days later the delicate blooms fell to the ground, leaving behind brown seed pods and green leaves. I stood at Mom's big bay window looking out at the lilac bush, and a disturbing analogy occurred to me; perhaps the sorrows I've borne the past few years have ushered in a fallow time. What if, although I still have seeds of potential, for now there are no blooms, and no fragrance? Perhaps I need a season of rest; a strengthening time, a rebuilding time.

Everywhere I turn of late, I find reminders of the deep weariness I feel in combination with the fear that I may no longer have opportunities to be fruitful in my work as a teacher. For example, while watching "The Fellowship of the Ring" the other night, I heard Bilbo say, "I feel stretched thin, like butter spread over too much bread." I'm right there with you, Bilbo Baggins!

And then a day or two later I was letting "You've Got Mail" play in the background as I worked in the kitchen, and suddenly I heard Jean Stapleton's character say, "You are being very brave. You are daring to imagine that you could have some other life."

Oh my, I think maybe I need a dose of courage.

The thought that the Lord may ask me to give up my job as a teacher led to a terrible feeling of desolation until I recognized my error. I have allowed my sense of identity to become grounded in some other persona than Christ and Christ crucified. I am a wife, mother, caregiver, teacher, friend, and author; but none of these roles defines me. I belong to the Lord. There is no job I can lose that will touch the heart of my true identity as a child of God.

I'm not certain what the Lord is planning for me, nor do I know His timetable. Today I'm praying for grace to release when He says "Let go," and for trust in Him to hold on tight to me!

Scripture: "We know that we are children of God..." (1 John 5:19).

If God is for Us...

2010-05-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, life is beyond unfair.

Sometimes, we find ourselves in situations over which we have no control.

The realities of suffering behind adjectives such as "pain" or "oppression" or "grief" defy attempts to explain. These experiences must be felt in order to be understood, and no one can truly experience pain that belongs to someone else. A cry of suffering can be misinterpreted. Sometimes we are judged to be whiners and complainers when in truth, we are experiencing pain that could justifiably be labeled "excruciating."

It is difficult to admit helplessness. When a situation defies rational argument, there remains a terrible need to avoid defeat. Even though there is no point in beating one's head against a wall of stone in hopes of causing it to fall, how often I have done myself harm out of unwillingness admit that my circumstances are as immovable as rock.

This morning as I prayed over some of the stone walls in my life, I received a clear word from the Lord: "Do not initiate a sortie on ground you are not willing to defend." This was not the word I'd expected. Given my "fed up" state of mind, I had thought I would be reprimanded for not trusting God, or that I would be moved to review the many ways God has blessed me through circumstances I could not possibly have engineered for myself. Instead, I received simple instructions such as those a commander would issue to a soldier. Fall back! Trust God! Now is not the time to fight.

I have gained access to the forgiveness that is mine in Jesus Christ by accepting what He has freely given. Because of this, He is on my side when I cry out to Him. I may be disciplined, redirected, or told to give up when I would prefer to fight my way free. But God is on my side.

Many times in my life I have seen how powerfully He protects me and provides for me. I may not like my circumstances, but I trust my Lord.

Scripture: ...If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? (Romans 8:31-32)

Don't Stop in the Middle

2010-04-26T06:15:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning I was weary from concern over a number of family related trials large and small. My son-in-law has been diagnosed with pneumonia and we are worried because the pain and fever are persisting longer than we'd expected. Grandson Daniel is teething and so neither he nor his tired Mama are resting well. And, when I'd taken Mom's coffee in that morning, I'd found her sitting on the floor beside her bed. She calmly said, "I can't figure out how to get up from here." Blessedly, son Jonathan was home for a visit, and he and my husband easily lifted Mom to her feet. What would I have done if they hadn't been here?

I headed upstairs to complete some Saturday morning chores, and stopped halfway up, sank down, and sat, leaning my head on the banister. More than just feeling tired, I was suffering a strength robbing, low level fear of what lies ahead. Midpoint of that climb to the upstairs portion of our home, I did not want to go up to face the chores ahead. This seemed symbolic of where I am on the time line of my life. I can't go back, I don't want to move forward; and quitting in the middle doesn't seem to be an option! I trudged on up the stairs.

Likewise, I must move forward in time.

This morning, I awoke to hear Mom on the monitor, telling the cat that she didn't think her bum knee would support her weight if she were to try to stand. I lay in bed, dreading this day in particular and the future in general, when an odd thing happened. Quotes from my book began coming to mind. Having recorded much of God's counsel to me in book form offers a unique opportunity to revisit lessons past. I always feel somewhat embarrassed to struggle valiantly against some problem only to hear the Lord say, "I've taught you about this before, don't you remember?"

The future is in God’s hands, and you can trust Him. No one but the Lord knows the future. Follow Him in your present and leave tomorrow in His hands (p.10).

Now, for just a little while, the Christian may endure suffering and grief, but we look forward to a future free from sorrow and pain. Despair is not the portion of those who hope in Christ (p. 39).

In every trial the Lord offers help for the present and hope for the future (p.179).

My peace of mind returned when I recognized that I did not have to worry about “What if …” I had only to remember Who is! (p. 206)

Common sense based upon the facts of the expected progression of Alzheimer’s disease will lead to despair. Faith based upon the reality of Jesus Christ offers hope (p. 10).

Scripture: “Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace” (Luke 1:78-79, NLT).

"I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me" (Philippians 3:12)

Quilting Confusion

2010-04-10T15:00:00.000-07:00

Today my daughter, Melinda, and I drove to nearby Emporia, Kansas, where I was scheduled to be the guest speaker for the Lyon County Extension Units' "spring fling." The theme this year was, "Life Can Be a Picnic." Tables were decorated with red and white checked cloths, adorable little red buckets held trail mix, and a delicious brunch of quiche, muffins, and fruit was served. My talk went well, the audience was attentive, and much to my relief they laughed in all the right places (and in none of the wrong ones, as when the slides on my PowerPoint presentation stopped progressing as I wanted).

I sold a few books and then, lest I become too big headed about the whole experience, one of the ladies confided, "You know, we really thought you were your mother-in-law when we heard your name and that you were coming to speak today."

"Yes," chimed another, "Doesn't she make quilts?"

Well, yes, my mother-in-law, Irma Born, makes the loveliest quilts I've ever seen outside of a museum display. The connection (and confusion) between my book and my mother-in-law's quilts was soon explained. A third lady told me about the Alzheimer's Quilt Initiative. She had attended a showing of the quilts in the traveling display entitled "Alzheimer's: Forgetting Piece by Piece".

It turns out that most of the ladies understood who I am and the subject matter I would cover today because they had read the article our local paper printed after I did book signing last fall. But, a few of them know my mother-in-law, and had also heard the story about the traveling display of Alzheimer's quilts--thus, the confusion.

At the end of the day, no one seemed disappointed that I had no quilts to show, my PowerPoint was a hit, and I treasured the opportunity to hear and empathize with the many and varied stories the women shared about their own experiences with a loved one's dementia. There were a few tears of empathy and lots of laughter shared.

All of this seemed to affirm the closing line of my talk: "Even when life throws things at us that are certainly no picnic, there are still joy and laughter yet to be found...because where there is love, life really can be a picnic!"

But, next time I'm invited to be a guest speaker, I think I'll take along one or two of Irma's quilts just in case!

Sad Times

2010-03-31T06:53:00.000-07:00

My heart has been heavy with grief for the past couple of weeks. As a result of budget cuts in our small school district, I've been forced to grapple with the loss of the reading program I've directed for eleven years. At this point I still have a job, but what that job will be has not yet been clarified. And so, after 22 years with this school district and a professional lifetime of feeling a strong mission to help struggling readers, I find myself facing loss of professional identity.

And then blow after blow fell on my heart. New grief can cause the memory of former heart hurts to surface again, and I proceeded to behaved badly toward those closest to me as memories of ways I've been hurt in the past rushed to my conscious awareness. This closed their hearts to me and effectively robbed them of the ability to express empathy and support for me at a time when I badly needed it.

What a sad, bad time!

At 3:00 this morning I came awake and began to examine all that has happened to me at my workplace the past few weeks. After a few moments I said aloud, "STOP!" It is difficult not to rehearse what has happened in an effort to assimilate it, but that requires attempts to analyze and categorize that are likely to result in inaccurate conclusions. And so we then rehearse a version of our reality that isn't necessarily accurate, and the rehearsal itself magnifies the hurt. We want to explain how we've ended up in the situation we are in!

This morning it occurred to me that I am a child of God, and what I need to be rehearsing should be very positive. In the same way that I hope my loved ones will give me the benefit of the doubt when my behaviors seem inexplicable, I will give my Lord the same courtesy. I KNOW the Lord means me good and not harm. I will repeat to myself the same words that I remember I once said to a friend who had suffered great loss, "I don't understand why these things have happened, but I know the Lord loves you and has a plan, and I know that it is a good plan."

It seems to me that grief, large or small, can either expand our hearts or cause us to close in upon ourselves. At some point in the grief process I think we have a choice. I can choose to characterize what has happened to me from the limited base of my own understanding, conclude that I've been wronged, and rehearse that perspective until I have learned it well and can recite it by rote. The alternative is to accept that there is a gap between that I am able to comprehend and God's purposes in my life. This entails placing my trust in what I cannot see or comprehend. It is a transition that looks much easier to make in words processed on my computer screen than it feels in actual experience when my heart aches, tears flow, and grief of loss suffuses my soul.

Years ago I used colored pencils to write Psalm 119:32 on my bedroom wall. This morning, rather than rehearsing a litany of my grief, I let my eyes rest on these words and recited them aloud : I will run in the path of your commands, for you shall enlarge my heart.

Enlarge my heart, Lord. Don’t let me close in on myself. I know You mean me good and not harm. Enable me to run in the path of Your commands.

All God's Critter's Got A Place...

2010-03-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

The title of this post is from a song my children sang years ago as members of the junior choir in our little Methodist church. The lyrics point out that everything and everyone God created have a unique role to fulfill, and if even one of those voices is ignored, we are all impoverished. Paul says much the same in 1 Corinthians 12, when he tells us that all of the members of the Body of Christ have important roles. No matter our age or stage of development, when we belong to the Lord we still have an anointed role to play for the greater good. This week, a couple of incidents reminded me of this truth.

One afternoon, my grandson, Daniel, was standing at one of his favorite perches; atop an antique lard box pushed up to the bay window in Mom's room. Little elbows resting on the window seat, he likes to lounge there and watch the outdoor cats stalk the birds at the feeder just outside the window. On this day, Daniel was watching as a downpour of rain fell from a leaden sky. Suddenly he pointed to the floor behind the couch that sits in front of the window and said, "Ah oh!"

Now, Daniel talks constantly, with both meaningful and nonsensical strings of intonations intermixed. It would have been easy to ignore him. But his mother, out of her respect for him as the intelligent little guy he is, pulled out the couch to check out what Daniel saw. Water was leaking around the window and had formed a puddle on the floor. It was a blessing that we discovered the leak when we did, before the sitting water had time to cause the floor to warp, or continued in its path to the middle of the floor where it could have caused Mom to slip and fall. On this day Daniel, just turned two, made a valuable contribution to our family's welfare by calling our attention to the leak.

Just a few hours later, my mother mentioned that the heater in her room didn't seem to be working. Mom mentions the room temperature often, and it is difficult to keep the thermostat at a level that provides her perfect comfort. She doesn't think to remove her lap robe or to find a sweater; her first mode of attempting to correct the slightest discomfort is to call me. On this day I did not feel cold in her room and assumed that, as usual, she was was being a little bit over sensitive to feeling a tad chilly. However, I did check the thermostat for her, and it's a good thing I did. Somehow, the the setting had gotten pushed down to 55 degrees. Daniel was probably the culprit--at the time we placed the thermostat just a couple of feet off the floor, we were not thinking about the fact that placing it out of reach of the Alzheimer patient would put it in easy reach of the toddler who had not yet arrived on the scene. With the apartment temperature set 20 degrees cooler than usual, Mom really had valid cause for complaint!

The lesson for me as a caregiver is that I must not dismiss my mother's comments and observations as being unimportant. Her thoughts, feelings, and observations still have value. Sometimes, when a loved one becomes infirm, we are so hurt by the fact that they can no longer be to us what they once were, that we fail to value the role they still can play. At some point Mom's ability to "sing in the choir" may become limited to a squeeze of my hand or a grateful look that says, "You are loved." I pray for grace to continue to value the place my Mom still occupies in our family, even as her physical and mental capacities decrease.

Nice Midi of "All God's Critter's" here.... Be patient--the intro sounds simple but then it blossoms into a really fun rendition.

I Know Whom I've Believed

2010-03-02T16:42:00.000-08:00

Just a few days ago, my uncle went home to be with the Lord. His cancer was predicted to become increasingly painful; and so we know God was good. But we weep nonetheless, we weep.

He was my mother's baby brother, six years her junior, age 79 at his death. He had a deep voice--a voice I won't hear again this side of Glory--and a personality and presence I will miss. Whenever he and my aunt visited Mom, their familiar, mingled voices always took me back to childhood days.

Since my uncle's death, I've once again been examining my own understanding of exactly what happens to Christians when they die. An exhaustive search of Scripture has yielded comforting affirmations of what I know to be true through faith. Nothing can separate us from Christ (Romans 8:35-40). Jesus will never lose one of those entrusted to Him (John 18:9). Departing this mortal life to be at home with Christ is better by far (Philippians 1:22-24).

When we depart from our mortal bodies, we will be safe in Christ in a similar way to how a blossom is safe inside the bud. When the time is full, the bud will open and the blossom will break forth. "The perishable will clothe itself with the imperishable" (1 Corinthians 15:42).

When I apply my mind to understanding all of this I soon come up against a roadblock, and that is the fact that I am flesh; and flesh cannot comprehend things of the Spirit. In the same way that a dim star disappears when I look directly at it, and yet can be perceived when I look a bit to the side, I must look aside to what I can perceive with the physical senses in order to attain a beginner's understanding of spiritual truth. In what has been created, the Lord has drawn for us analogies to things of the spirit. God's invisible qualities are visible for us through creation (see Romans 1:20).

In the end our comfort comes not from what we know, but from who we know. It is only as we gaze steadfastly into our Savior's face that the fears we feel in the face of death begin to subside.

Scripture: "Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day" (2 Timothy 1:12).

Listen to the hymn "I know Whom I Have Believed" at Cyberhymnal.com

Even the Happy Parts are Sad

2010-02-20T09:45:00.001-08:00

The title for this blog post came to mind this morning as I sat in my cold car waiting for my husband to attach the battery cables. I'd left my headlights on. Again.

Happy to have someone who will come and charge the battery when I call. Sad to have a mental block about turning off my lights.

Taking my mother to the beauty shop. Happy I don't have to wash and set her hair at home, sad for the stress that comes from my fear she will fall as I help her to the car.

It's lovely to have Mom's beautiful room addition on our home. Happy for the material blessing of added space and beauty, sad that my mom won't always be here to enjoy the blessing she made possible.

So much about caregiving is like this. Even the beautiful moments are bittersweet. If I allow myself to bask in my mother's love, grief is just behind the warmth of her regard. My eyes fill with tears. I am happy to have my mother still with me. I am sad to have her so dependent on me, and that she is in the process of leaving me.

Sometimes there is no happy outcome, regardless of the choice one makes. If I choose to withdraw emotionally from my mother, I will suffer grief of loss ahead of her actual death, and guilt after. If I do not withhold myself, I face the daily blows that fall on my heart as she acts out resentment toward me or expresses love for me by turns.

Sad to be at this point in my life where grief cannot be avoided, happy to remember that those who mourn will be comforted.

My mother and I are walking the valley of the shadow of her death, but the Lord is with us. There is no place to run but into His arms.

And I am happy about that.

Scripture: "Blessed and enviably happy [with a happiness produced by the experience of God's favor and especially conditioned by the revelation of His matchless grace] are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted!" (Matthew 5:4 AMP)

"You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you" (Matthew 5:4 The Message).

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Matthew 5:4 ESV).

Don't Blame the Victim

2010-02-13T11:52:00.000-08:00

Children can rarely comprehend the nature of wounds their parents have received, and I am very much a child when I respond resentfully to my mother's negative behaviors. Today I had to have the Lord's help to reach a place of compassion for Mom.

My heart had been battered once too often by my mother's acerbic responses to my well-intentioned caregiving efforts. Angry at my mother and also with God, I ran to my word processor to unleash my frustration. I felt a strong sense of righteous indignation, because I was aware that Mom's resentful attitude toward me had been well established even before Alzheimer's disease robbed her of finesse.

As I prayed, I was immediately aware that the Lord's heart was sorrowful over wounds my mother had suffered. I was led to remembrance and new understanding of two devastating heart hurts she sustained as a young adult. When she was twenty, my mother's fiance died in an air training exercise during World War II, and then just a few years later, she nursed her sister, Goldie, through a losing battle against breast cancer. Mom was in charge of administering her sister's injections for pain relief. There was no hospice care in those days, and Mom stayed by Goldie's side until the cancer took her life.

Out of the terrible grief she suffered as a result of those deaths, there was born an overwhelming fear of loss. Thus, in her mothering she gave more than she had the capacity to give. This giving broke her mind and her heart, and not in a way that was God's will for her. Rendered unable to trust by those early deaths, she could not trust God for her little daughter's life, and so she spent herself unwisely in an effort to protect me. Her mental stability and emotional health crumpled under the strain.

Having grown up observing my mother's responses, I learned to be overly cautious and yes, fearful; but there is a difference between a learned response and the front line trauma of post traumatic stress. I am able to see the truth that release of my children into God's hands is possible, and holds blessing both for them and for me. My mother was not thus enabled. This is a difference that will bring me peace that my mother was not able to attain. I must not blame her for her negative behaviors any more than I would blame a car crash victim for being injured. The crash upon my mother’s heart came from watching her sister die and from having what she perceived to be future hope of happiness robbed from her through the same portal—death, another death, that of her young fiancé. She was frightened out of her mind and withdrew from the fear of loss. I feel the Lord say to me, "She gave unwisely but Child, can you not honor the fact that she gave so much?"

Sadly, giving that is done out of a need to protect our own hearts tends to become self-centeredness. We become bound by that we cannot release, and so my mother was and is still to some degree bound by her need of my love. This is what I've found to be so repellent; this is what I found to be suffocating and has caused bonds against which I struggle. My current resentment of my mother has grown from the feeling that she has reeled me in at last; that I am now merely an accessory to her life, by turns maid, nurse, mother, friend, and daughter; I am her all in all, or would be if God would allow her to make me so. But He will not allow it. I do not need to be afraid. I am precious in His sight and He will protect me, even as He has provided for my mother.

The “caregiver’s perspective” will save me grief now. My mother takes her cues from me. I can be cheerful, positive and not unduly upset when she is not pleasant. I can respond in compassion to her, grieving with the Lord over the heartaches that cost her so much, but knowing that the Lord has taken those heartaches upon Himself. Mom is not to blame. The Lord has taken the blame.

Everyone is broken; all of us have been injured in some way. We will never know or understand the full extent of the injuries sustained by those for whom we care. This is undoubtedly the reason the Bible says "Judge not." We don't have enough information. As caregivers, we must recognize that our loved ones have received injuries from which they could not recover, injuries not of their own making. To love as we've been loved and forgive as we've been forgiven is the Lord's will for us through our faith and trust in Christ Jesus.

I'm praying for grace today to manifest love to my mom, even when she is not loving toward me.

Isn't He Amazing?

2010-02-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

Don't you just love it when the Lord shows us that He is intimately involved in every facet of our lives and that He knows us completely? This week I have received a powerful demonstration of the fact that the Lord doesn't drop one thread in the intricate weaving of the details of our lives.

The Lord has been speaking to me about release. In my last post I wrote about the reasons I felt frightened of giving God free access to every part of my life. Letting go was difficult, but the ensuing sense of freedom is wonderful! Since I let go in order to let God, I've been waltzing around as though I hadn't a care in the world; this in spite of an impending root canal, an absent son, high cholesterol readings, and twenty extra pounds that my own efforts have not banished. I've released those things into the Lord's hands! If He has to hurt me to help me, then He'll be with me in the hurt. And if He wants to bless me beyond my wildest dreams, well then, I'm not standing in His way there, either!

Now here's the really cool part of this story. Twenty-seven years ago, I wrote a short story about a woman named Lydia, who had been a follower of John the Baptist. The story chronicles Lydia's spiritual journey as she learns to be a follower of Jesus. While struggling with this transition, Lydia is helping to clean a campsite where John has spoken to a group of his few remaining disciples. She has bent to gather a discarded linen wrapper from the ground along with some crusts of bread, and when she straightens, she finds herself looking across the river to where a large crowd of people have gathered around Jesus. At this juncture John calls to those who have remained with him, and explains to them that they too must cross the river. Lydia makes the crossing, but it isn't until she meets Jesus face to face that she is able to release her allegiance to John. This is symbolized when her hand relaxes and the crusts of bread that she has been clutching so tightly fall to the ground.

This story meant a great deal to me when I was young because even then I understood that though the Lord often asks us to release to Him things we would very much prefer to keep, He always has something much better if we will only let go the past and move with courage into the future.

One day this week I just happened to find an old notebook. It was a thick three inch binder containing about five years of journal entries. I randomly flipped the book open about forty pages into the sheaf of single spaced, typewritten pages. I found myself reading Lydia's story, written so long ago. I had forgotten the details of the story, and I had forgotten where I had filed it. If you'd have asked me, I would have said it was lost. My renewed acquaintance with this story just happened to occur on the evening of the day that I wrote my last blog entry, which was about a similar spiritual journey of release. Wow!

It gets better. This morning in church we took communion. When it was my turn to receive the bread, the pastor broke an unusually large chunk from the loaf he held in his hands. I tore a smaller piece from the chunk, partook of the bread and the grape juice symbolizing the Holy sacrifice of our Lord, and returned to my seat. At the end of the service I opened my hand saw that I'd been clutching a remnant of bread. As I tossed the crust into the trash on my way out of the sanctuary, I remembered Lydia's story.

The Lord certainly is able to emphasize a point. I am aware that He is speaking "RELEASE" to me and wants to be certain I get the message. I'm newly aware of His complete knowledge of me and His deep love for me. I'm trembling a little bit because I'm silly...I'm wondering what difficult or wondrous thing might lie just ahead on my path. But an overwhelming awareness of God's power, knowledge, and love puts those fears to rest. Isn't He amazing?

Scripture: "Joshua told the people, "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the LORD will do amazing things among you" (Joshua 3:5).

What Do You Not Understand...

2010-02-05T07:13:00.001-08:00

Well, I've done it again. I have spent weeks, perhaps months, struggling against releasing myself fully into God's hands. I've resisted the release: I've struggled against the repose that is mine through the inheritance provided me in Christ.

Why?

Because although I believe that God intends me good and not harm, I'm afraid He'll harm me for my good. And so I hold the Almighty at a distance while I struggle fruitlessly to put to rights the wrongs created by my own sin.

For years the words that have sprung to my lips when I enter into the Lord's presence are, "Here I am." But of late that kind of presenting myself to the Lord for His examination has been absent. "Here I am," is another way of saying "Take me and use me as You will." I'm fine with that portion of the release, but it is the implied, "Search me and correct what is wrong," that I've resisted. I'm afraid the correction will hurt.

This morning, once again, I was struggling in my devotion time when, in my mind, I heard the Lord say, "What do you not understand about 'never again'?"

You see, I've come through some difficult times in my life--not difficult compared to the life journeys of many others, but difficult, nonetheless. There are portions of my past that, having survived once, I never want to revisit. I know that God was with me. I can see that He brought me through wonderfully and with blessing. But I don't want to revisit the kind of suffering I once endured, and it is this fear the Lord addressed with me this morning.

Of the reluctance to release ourselves fully into God's hands Hannah Whitall Smith says, "We have most of us tried to do it for ourselves at first, and have grievously failed; then we discover from the Scriptures and from our own experience that it is a work we are utterly unable to do for ourselves, but that the Lord Jesus Christ has come on purpose to do it, and that He will do it for all who put themselves wholly into His hand, and trust Him to do it" (The Christian's Secret to a Happy Life, Hannah Whitall Smith, public domain).

Another Christian writer (my mother) said, "Continually look for things that remind us that God is in all things we see or experience. Don’t hold back from life in fear of being hurt—or of seeing or feeling things that are devastating to us. Sometimes these are the things [in which] we may find some of God’s work for us" (Anna Ruth's journal—July, 1962).

It is time to forget the things that are past and to move into the future in faith and trust in my Lord and my God. He hasn't let me down yet. I'm asking His forgiveness today for my lack of trust.

Here I am, Lord.

Scripture: "You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the LORD your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed" (Joel 2:26).

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland" (Isaiah 43:18-19).

In His Hands

2010-02-03T06:49:00.000-08:00

During a reading lesson one day last week, one of my students wanted to talk about God. He said, “I think God holds us in his hands like one of those balls with the falling down snow inside.” Here, he cupped his hands and drew them near his face, peering into his imaginary globe. “I think God can put His face up close and see everything that goes on in there,” he said.

Touched by the faith that enabled this child to conceptualize God’s involvement in the lives of those He loves, I thought about my own perception of God’s presence with me. I realized that what I believe can be stated pretty much as my little student said it; I believe everything is in God’s hands and that there is no safe harbor apart from Him. Other human beings will let us down, even those who love us the most and who are most dependable. They fall prey to human frailty, perhaps through becoming so involved in their own pain that they can't see ours, or through betrayal, or they get sick; and sometimes they die and leave us all alone.

I believe that God alone loves perfectly and with sovereign power that enables Him to use even those circumstances that seem disastrous to me for my blessing. I can trust Him for myself and I can entrust those I love into His capable Hands. He won't let me down. He won't let them down. He can be depended upon to bring forth beauty and blessing from the ashes of human failure and disappointment.

I believe God puts His face up close to mine and sees everything that goes on in my mind, my heart, and my world; and that he holds me safely in His hands.

Scripture: “Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you” (Jeremiah 32:17 NIV).

Getting Mom's Perspective the Hard Way

2010-01-24T09:26:00.000-08:00

I've been experiencing sandwich generation issues once again as I ponder the adjustments my husband and I must make as empty nesters. There is a need for us to adjust to the new roles we are to play in the lives of our adult children. At the same time the struggle to strike a happy balance between the roles of caregiver and daughter is an ongoing challenge in my relationship with my mother.

These days of course, my mother is no longer able to analyze and provide for my needs as she once did because now, my mother needs me. If I am to have a successful caregiving relationship with her, I must become able to accept that the rules of our relationship have completely changed. To add to my angst, I am simultaneously experiencing a kind of prequel to my own elder years, because although my son is now an independent adult and does not need me, to my dismay I find that on an emotional level that I very much need him. I miss and long for the strength of his little boy hugs and the confidence he once had that I could make things alright. The Lord keeps using this parallel between my need of my son's affection and my mother's need for mine to teach me how to be a better caregiver, daughter, and mother.

It's VERY annoying.

Yes, I am annoyed with the Lord. I'm careful to be respectful with that emotion since He's in charge of things like lightning bolts and such, but I'm not a happy camper right now.

For example, yesterday I was upstairs when my mother called me on my cell phone (I have her phone set on speed dial so she need only press one button to call me). Lately she's been calling often and for maddeningly unimportant reasons. I was busy and let my answering service take her message, immediately dialing voice mail to be certain her need was not urgent. "I just wanted to talk to you," she said wistfully. Assured that she was physically alright, I completed my task and then forgot to go in to visit with her until much later.

Last evening this incident had been forgotten when bedtime rolled around and I felt my customary pangs of longing for our adult son, who has just recently moved out of our home and is off living and working on his own. I've found empty nest syndrome to be most poignantly painful during the evening dinner hour when we used to sit down as a family, then again and even more strongly at bedtime, when we would tuck our children in and read and pray together. I sent my son a good night text message but he didn't reply. My first thought this morning was of him, and I sent another text, but again received no answer. Late this afternoon I became concerned and tried to call him but--no reply. I was feeling very upset when the Lord touched my heart with the memory of how I had ignored my own mother's wistful longing to hear MY voice less than 24 hours earlier.

Well just great. Now not only did I feel upset because my son was ignoring me, I also felt guilty because vexingly, I could see I'd done the very same thing to my own mother.

OK, Lord, I've got it. On the one hand I'm to be more compassionate to my mother because of my recognition of the very real pain that backs the longing a mother has for her absent child. And, out of my understanding of what it is like to have one's mother call in the middle of some important activity (like swing dancing or sleeping, which turned out to be the case for my son last night and this morning respectively) I'm to cut my errant son a bit of slack. He has a new job, a new girlfriend, and a new life. My place in his heart is secure, but he's a busy young man.

OK. OK. OK.

I really don't like this sandwich generation stuff very much. But the Lord is with me. He is kind, compassionate, empathetic, loving, and very very good at His job. Thank You Lord, for dealing with me.

Scripture: "...God's kindness leads you toward repentance" (Romans 2:4).

Not By My Strength...

2010-01-20T20:41:00.000-08:00

I am not naturally patient. I am not particularly kind or empathetic. Apart from the Lord, I'm the caregiver you would hope not to have assigned to your case should you become elderly and infirm.

Before you lavish sympathy and prayers on my mother's head (well, the prayers aren't a bad idea, feel free to go ahead with those), I will hasten to let you know that I do not depend upon any natural propensity toward virtue in the time I spend with my mother. I very rarely enter her apartment without first uttering a prayer for God's help. He answers those prayers.

This gift of grace that covers my lack of qualifications reminds me of a story from my past. When my family moved to the small town where I attended the last two years of high school, I felt a strong desire to be accepted as a hometown girl. I envied the young people who had been born and raised in our little community, and while many of them could not wait to leave, I wanted nothing more than to put down roots and achieve that sense of belonging that they took for granted. I married a local boy and have lived here happily ever after, but for a time the feeling of being an outsider lingered.

When my daughter graduated from high school I was thrilled when we were asked to give the traditional greeting and response at the Alumni Banquet. This honor is accorded to a parent and child who both can call the school their alma mater, and to receive this opportunity to speak at the Alumni Banquet made me feel, at long last, accepted! As I stepped behind the podium that night and spoke my gratitude to the little town that I have learned to call home, I felt the Lord's benediction on my head, "This is the home I've provided you!" His words were almost audible to me.

A few days later someone let it slip that we were the fourth...the FOURTH parent/graduate pair to be asked to give the greeting and response. The others had declined! I took this to the Lord with a feeling of chagrin and received the calm assurance that when the Lord says you're home, you're home; no matter how other human beings feel about the matter. I didn't achieve belonging by earning it, or through human recognition; I was given this blessing by the Lord.

Seven years later I received a call asking me if I would once again do the greeting at the banquet, this time as my graduating son gave the response. I readily accepted but with a bit more humility this time. I didn't ask how many others had turned down the assignment; I just rejoiced in my Lord and Savior who was so gracious to accord me this blessing a second time.

The memory of this experience and the lesson I learned as a result has come to me often in the ensuing years, reminding me that if the Lord says I belong, then I belong. And if he tells me I'm a caregiver, then I can be a caregiver--not by my own strength or merit, but through Him!

Scripture: "No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love...We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you" Psalm 33:16-18, 20-22.