Today I went into Mom's apartment and saw that she was napping. There was a Post-it sized notepad of paper with a floral design laying beside her chair, and she'd covered several of the notes with script. The tiny pages required her to crimp her handwriting into a minuscule version of its usual size, and she wrote, "This pad of paper is pretty, but a little bit small. Unique!" She went on to describe her lunch menu, her cat's green eyes, and the beauty of her Christmas tree.
I rummaged through the stack of books and papers on the side table and found her spiral notebook. I placed it atop the pile so she would find it when she reached for her pen again, and as I returned to my part of the house I marveled at Mom's calm acceptance of the incongruities that she encounters so often through her day. I don't know where she found that little bitty pad of paper, but she was neither frustrated or angered by the lack of writing materials that would have better fit her needs. "Unique!" she wrote, and went about her day.
I pray for grace to accept the circumstances God has provided for us with childlike faith like my mom's.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Holding My Breath
I have been suffering from writer's block. I submitted a book proposal to an editor and invited her to read my blog. Immediately I found that I was nixing every idea for a new entry. No thought was profound enough and no composition adequately crafted for editing eyes to see! But I've felt blocked in other areas as well. Several days ago I was in prayer and I felt the Lord say, "Stop holding your breath."
I understood. My daughter is expecting her first child in early February, and I feel an increasing sense of dread on her behalf. My impulse is to pretend nothing is worrisome and to go on as before. My way of coping with this anxiety is to think that I can just "hold my breath" until her labor and delivery are over. And, my mother's Alzheimer's disease is a marathon. I might be able to get through a short ordeal by pulling into myself and refusing to interact with others or with the Lord, but the sheer length of labor required to see a loved one through to the end of a battle against Alzheimer's requires that I learn to breathe deeply of the Lord in the midst of the ordeal.
I have a mind picture of Mom and our family in river rapids… whoa... whhoooaaa… WHOOOAAAAAA! God is the raft. We're hanging on! This raft won’t flip over and can’t be torn by rocks…we might get a little battered and bruised but if we just cling tightly to the Lord we'll be o.k. We are tethered to this raft as with seat belts; Holy Spirit power has us even if our hands are torn loose.
(whine) I don’t wanna go on a ride in the rapids with my precious daughter…here is my fear, here is my fear…
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze...Isaiah 43:2 NIV
(whine) I don’t wanna go through the valley with my mom.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil , for you are with me....Psalm 23:4 NIV
The Lord is with me. I choose to partake of His Word, to seek out fellowship with other Christians, and to give praise to His Holy Name. I will breathe deeply of Him.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Anna Ruth and Her Brothers in 1945
These lovely young people have now morphed into lovely old people! They each have lived lives worthy of the Lord. From left to right above: Anna Ruth (Sunday school teacher, youth group leader), Fred (deacon in his church, witnesses in order to win souls for Christ), Clark (deacon in his church, active in mission work in his community). The Length of our days is seventy years, or eighty if we have the strength...teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:8, 10 NIV
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Avoid Escapism (Escape Avoidism)
Yesterday afternoon I watched a movie. There's nothing wrong with that but for the fact that my reasons for closing myself into the upstairs T.V. room didn't hold up to the Lord's light. I wasn't taking a much-needed rest so much as I was attempting to escape from a conglomerate of negative emotions.
I was feeling upset and resentful toward Mom because though I did so much for her on Saturday morning, I was unable to muster a sweet and accepting attitude. I was short-tempered. As we drove home from Mom's hair appointment, I snapped at her for nearly spilling my cup of coffee as she reached out to pick up a stack of library books that I had checked out for her. She made no reply but after about a sixty second silence she said, "You know, I just love Sandy. Sandy is a jewel. When will she be back?" Sandy is our respite care lady who cleans Mom's apartment and chats with her and never, ever snaps at her! Alzheimer's patients aren't known for finesse. Mom's point was clear. She wished I was more like Sandy.
And I was worried about my son. He has recently passed two major life milestones. Two weeks ago he turned twenty and on the same day he broke up with his girlfriend, who lives just a few miles down the road from us in a neighboring town. I had thought I would be relieved at this separation because they are young, and though they had taken a purity vow they had seemed to me to be more seriously involved than a pair of teenagers should be. Curiously though, I felt unusually grief-stricken as my son pulled out of the driveway to return to college today. I realized that without the emotional attachment to a girlfriend that he was free to stretch his wings a bit. He'd talked about going off on a mission trip next weekend and home with a college friend the week after that. Nothing wrong with that. But I realized that I'd been depending on his connection to his girlfriend to draw him back home in a predictable, week-by-week pattern. When he left today I felt for the first time that he was truly leaving home.
Instead of taking my troubles to the Lord, I took my grief and my resentment up to the T.V. room and stuck a movie into the DVD player.
In the night last night I woke up feeling disturbed in my spirit. We'd pulled my computer desk away from the wall as the guys began to lay new laminate flooring in the kitchen. Robbed of access to my word processor, I rummaged in the cupboard and found an old spiral notebook. As I flipped through the pages looking for a blank section in which to record my thoughts and prayers, I just happened to see the following entry:
There is no comfort for those who have turned their backs on the Lord; there is only escapism. They can't get rid of their fears, they can only bury them. That's why the Lord is so upset when his children use the same methods of escape used by people of the world. He died so that we could cast our cares on Him.
Isn't it amazing how the Lord provides us what we need when we need it? I hadn't used that notebook for months. And yet when I opened it last night my own words served to bring me back to the Lord in order to cast my cares upon Him.
Scripture: I was pushed back and about to fall, but the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and my song, He has become my salvation. Psalm 118:13-14 NIV
I was feeling upset and resentful toward Mom because though I did so much for her on Saturday morning, I was unable to muster a sweet and accepting attitude. I was short-tempered. As we drove home from Mom's hair appointment, I snapped at her for nearly spilling my cup of coffee as she reached out to pick up a stack of library books that I had checked out for her. She made no reply but after about a sixty second silence she said, "You know, I just love Sandy. Sandy is a jewel. When will she be back?" Sandy is our respite care lady who cleans Mom's apartment and chats with her and never, ever snaps at her! Alzheimer's patients aren't known for finesse. Mom's point was clear. She wished I was more like Sandy.
And I was worried about my son. He has recently passed two major life milestones. Two weeks ago he turned twenty and on the same day he broke up with his girlfriend, who lives just a few miles down the road from us in a neighboring town. I had thought I would be relieved at this separation because they are young, and though they had taken a purity vow they had seemed to me to be more seriously involved than a pair of teenagers should be. Curiously though, I felt unusually grief-stricken as my son pulled out of the driveway to return to college today. I realized that without the emotional attachment to a girlfriend that he was free to stretch his wings a bit. He'd talked about going off on a mission trip next weekend and home with a college friend the week after that. Nothing wrong with that. But I realized that I'd been depending on his connection to his girlfriend to draw him back home in a predictable, week-by-week pattern. When he left today I felt for the first time that he was truly leaving home.
Instead of taking my troubles to the Lord, I took my grief and my resentment up to the T.V. room and stuck a movie into the DVD player.
In the night last night I woke up feeling disturbed in my spirit. We'd pulled my computer desk away from the wall as the guys began to lay new laminate flooring in the kitchen. Robbed of access to my word processor, I rummaged in the cupboard and found an old spiral notebook. As I flipped through the pages looking for a blank section in which to record my thoughts and prayers, I just happened to see the following entry:
There is no comfort for those who have turned their backs on the Lord; there is only escapism. They can't get rid of their fears, they can only bury them. That's why the Lord is so upset when his children use the same methods of escape used by people of the world. He died so that we could cast our cares on Him.
Isn't it amazing how the Lord provides us what we need when we need it? I hadn't used that notebook for months. And yet when I opened it last night my own words served to bring me back to the Lord in order to cast my cares upon Him.
Scripture: I was pushed back and about to fall, but the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and my song, He has become my salvation. Psalm 118:13-14 NIV
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Though She May Forget...
Sometimes I feel a sense of abandonment over losing my mother's support. Mom was a willing helper to me for so many years. She babysat my kids so that I could grocery shop or go out for a few hours child-free. She prepared Sunday dinners for us, helped me to grade school papers, and counseled me when I was angry or hurt. Mama still expresses approval of me, but the keen interest is gone. Her responses to my stories are warm and polite but the spark of parental pride has faded. Occasionally, although she still knows that she has a daughter named Linda, she is not positive that I am the person who is that daughter. And I have found that there is no one who cares about me the way my mother used to care for me. Since Mama sat down in her chair and became the recipient of care rather than the care-donor; there isn't one other person on earth who is as happy as I am when I receive an award, survive a root canal, or decorate the front porch in fall colors. I am fifty-three-nearly-fifty-four-years-old and I miss my mama.
Isaiah 49:15 (below) is full of rich comfort no matter what age we are when we lose our mother's care. Even as my mother fades from view I hear a beloved voice say, "I care. I provided the fall flowers that you arranged on your porch, and I stood by your side as you stepped back to view the work of your hands. I admired the beauty with you, and I am proud of the way My light shines through you."
When my mother was always available to me, I often turned to her if not instead of the Lord, ahead of the Lord. He waited patiently to become my #1 confidant, and in the meantime He cared for me lovingly, at times using my mother's hands to deliver acts of service that blessed my life. Sometimes we have to get to a place where there is no one else to turn to before we can recognize that if we have Jesus, we truly do have all we need.
I miss my mom. But my heart's needs are fed through the Lord. He will never leave me.
Scripture: Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! Isaiah 49:15
Isaiah 49:15 (below) is full of rich comfort no matter what age we are when we lose our mother's care. Even as my mother fades from view I hear a beloved voice say, "I care. I provided the fall flowers that you arranged on your porch, and I stood by your side as you stepped back to view the work of your hands. I admired the beauty with you, and I am proud of the way My light shines through you."
When my mother was always available to me, I often turned to her if not instead of the Lord, ahead of the Lord. He waited patiently to become my #1 confidant, and in the meantime He cared for me lovingly, at times using my mother's hands to deliver acts of service that blessed my life. Sometimes we have to get to a place where there is no one else to turn to before we can recognize that if we have Jesus, we truly do have all we need.
I miss my mom. But my heart's needs are fed through the Lord. He will never leave me.
Scripture: Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! Isaiah 49:15
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Fear Not
Today the Lord has given me a living illustration of how vital it is to follow His command not to be afraid.
My daughter and I made an hour's drive to the city this morning, returning home early this evening. To those accustomed to traffic, this mid-western city is not difficult to navigate. Most times even I, the quintessential country bumpkin, have no trouble making my way around this nearly-but-not-quite-urban area. But today we traveled by the turnpike, and there was roadwork. My daughter is six months pregnant, and I felt protective of her and even more unsure of my driving skills than usual. The maneuvers of weaving around orange pylons in order to stay in the correct lane of traffic raised my anxiety level.
By the time we reached the city my stomach was knotted with anxiety from several sources. En route I had remembered that my respite caregiver for Mom had told me she wouldn't be coming today. This would leave Mom alone for a longer time than usual during the afternoon and early evening. My son has suffered a heart hurt as a relationship he's been in for over a year is coming to an end, and I am worried about him. And my daughter's pregnancy has caused her to seem to me to be both more precious and more fragile than ever before in her life, except perhaps when she was a newborn herself.
As we exited the highway I saw a woman sitting at the side of the road. With one hand she was holding an illegible cardboard sign in front of her face and the other hand repeatedly raked through her shiny brown hair. I was impressed by how clean her hair looked, and how it glinted in the sunlight. As I looked at her she raised her eyes to mine and they were full of misery. There was an instant when I could have grabbed a $20 dollar bill from my purse and rushed to her side--the traffic had momentarily cleared and I was at a red light. I let the moment go by, and I drove away. And then, Father forgive me, I forgot about her as we shopped for baby supplies and clothes. It wasn't until I was safely back at home that I remembered those eyes, and when the memory returned I recognized that I had left someone I love at the side of the road, because at this moment as I think of that poor woman's eyes, I see the eyes of Christ.
Jesus commands us to care for those He loves, and today I let Him down. I have asked for and received His forgiveness; but the remorse I feel continues to break my heart tonight. As I prayed not to sin in this way again I asked the Lord what had caused me to be oblivious to that woman's suffering to the degree that I was able to so completely dismiss her from my mind that I didn't even pray for her. I recognized that fear was the culprit. I was so tense with anxiety (which is just another word for fear) that I couldn't see that woman clearly. It wasn't until I felt safe at home that I remembered the agony in her eyes and knew that had I prayed, that the Lord would have shown me a way to reach out to her.
Scripture repeatedly instructs us to refrain from fear; the King James Version of the Bible uses the phrase, "fear not," 62 times. Today I learned that a fearful heart can cause a blindness to the suffering of others that breaks the Lord's heart.
Scripture: For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you." Isaiah 41:13 NIV
My daughter and I made an hour's drive to the city this morning, returning home early this evening. To those accustomed to traffic, this mid-western city is not difficult to navigate. Most times even I, the quintessential country bumpkin, have no trouble making my way around this nearly-but-not-quite-urban area. But today we traveled by the turnpike, and there was roadwork. My daughter is six months pregnant, and I felt protective of her and even more unsure of my driving skills than usual. The maneuvers of weaving around orange pylons in order to stay in the correct lane of traffic raised my anxiety level.
By the time we reached the city my stomach was knotted with anxiety from several sources. En route I had remembered that my respite caregiver for Mom had told me she wouldn't be coming today. This would leave Mom alone for a longer time than usual during the afternoon and early evening. My son has suffered a heart hurt as a relationship he's been in for over a year is coming to an end, and I am worried about him. And my daughter's pregnancy has caused her to seem to me to be both more precious and more fragile than ever before in her life, except perhaps when she was a newborn herself.
As we exited the highway I saw a woman sitting at the side of the road. With one hand she was holding an illegible cardboard sign in front of her face and the other hand repeatedly raked through her shiny brown hair. I was impressed by how clean her hair looked, and how it glinted in the sunlight. As I looked at her she raised her eyes to mine and they were full of misery. There was an instant when I could have grabbed a $20 dollar bill from my purse and rushed to her side--the traffic had momentarily cleared and I was at a red light. I let the moment go by, and I drove away. And then, Father forgive me, I forgot about her as we shopped for baby supplies and clothes. It wasn't until I was safely back at home that I remembered those eyes, and when the memory returned I recognized that I had left someone I love at the side of the road, because at this moment as I think of that poor woman's eyes, I see the eyes of Christ.
Jesus commands us to care for those He loves, and today I let Him down. I have asked for and received His forgiveness; but the remorse I feel continues to break my heart tonight. As I prayed not to sin in this way again I asked the Lord what had caused me to be oblivious to that woman's suffering to the degree that I was able to so completely dismiss her from my mind that I didn't even pray for her. I recognized that fear was the culprit. I was so tense with anxiety (which is just another word for fear) that I couldn't see that woman clearly. It wasn't until I felt safe at home that I remembered the agony in her eyes and knew that had I prayed, that the Lord would have shown me a way to reach out to her.
Scripture repeatedly instructs us to refrain from fear; the King James Version of the Bible uses the phrase, "fear not," 62 times. Today I learned that a fearful heart can cause a blindness to the suffering of others that breaks the Lord's heart.
Scripture: For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you." Isaiah 41:13 NIV
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