A Leap of Faith

My granddaughters were here for a few hours today, while their mother went to a doctor. Minnie, my little dog, was the center of attention for quite awhile when they first got here. The girls were both wanting to love on her so much that at one point, the dog made a flying leap from the chair where they were petting her over to the chair I was in. We're talking about a two-foot distance of being totally airborne to get to the security of my lap. It was an awesome leap of faith!

How many of us are willing to take a challenging leap like that to get to the secure arms of our Savior? How bad do we want to flee the clutches of Satan and get to the One who really loves us? I hope I'm brave enough to make that leap every day, if that's what it takes.

The "Eyes" Have It

Monday is my phone call day. Even though I know it is one of the hardest days to reach people, it just seems like the need to call falls heaviest after the weekend. I think all weekend of who I need to call and even make a list most of the time. It's a relief when all the calls have been made.

One call I made today though was not very relieving. I found out from the optometrist that I very likely do have glaucoma in one of my eyes and will be seeing an eye surgeon soon to determine if I need to treat it with drops.

This discovery prompted me to make another call. To one of my cousins who I thought might know who in my family may have had glaucoma. I knew my great uncle was blind because of it, but wasn't sure who else had the diagnosis. Turns out a couple of aunts and cousins have also been treated with it, so I was consoled that all of them had success in treating it with eye drops. I was relieved with the extra knowledge from my cousin Willa in Omaha. Thank you, Willa, for your comforting information.

I have just one more call to make before bedtime. That call to my heavenly Father with a special thanks to Him for giving me peace in the midst of my daily storms.

A Safe Environment

Who would have thought that my daughter would be trading babysitting gigs with her mom. I babysit for the grandkids one night a week, and she comes and takes her dad out once a week to give him and me a break. We seem to have something going here that works for both of us.

I think she's learning the environments that work best for her dad. Today she took him to a store (wrong choice), the library, and then to her house, where he sat in front of the television while the girls got their naps. It's just hard to get him out of that recliner even here at home. But then, do we really want to? It's his safest environment...at least for us.

Our Gifts

It sure has been an exhausting Sabbath rest day for this ol' grandma. But I treasure every minute I can spend with my two darling granddaughters. The oldest one celebrated her fourth birthday today, and we wrapped up the night with a small gathering to share ice cream and cupcakes and let her open a few presents.

I gave Jenna an old journal that was full of blank pages, thinking that she could practice her writing or draw pictures in it. But she decided it would be an autograph book, although I'm sure she's never even heard of one. She had everyone sign her book and I was pleased to see her so happy with my gift.

God gives us all many gifts, and it is up to us to figure out how to use them. With a pretty full life behind me, I hope I am bringing God a smile when He sees the way I have used His gifts too.

Mommy was the first to sign Jenna's book.

Julia picked this tomato in the garden this afternoon--I was surprised to see her still carrying it around several hours later! She was calling it "apple", but we taught her to say "tomato". 

She's treasuring her gift too!

Choking

The first question Dean's nurse had for him today was "Have you been chewing your food?" Then I remembered last week that Dean almost choked on a piece of meat from his "Meals on Wheels" while she was here. We both heard him say that his meat was too tough to cut, but we kept on with our conversation till he stood up suddenly with a scared expression on his face and we knew instantly that he was choking.

Even though Carla, the nurse, is a good foot shorter than my tall husband, I'm sure she'd have stood on a chair to give him the Heimlich any second if she had to. But he instinctively pounded his own chest and up came a gigantic piece of meat. It was a miracle it came up. And we were all shaken and thankful that the emergency was averted.

One of the first things that Dean said after it was over was that now he knows how I feel when I have breathing episodes and we've had to call paramedics. I said yes, that's exactly how it feels. It's pretty traumatic when you can't get air.

God breathed into us the breath of life. Our breath can't be underrated. Each one is a gift of God. I feel sorry for those individuals who feel they have to supplement their air with tobacco smoke. They are poisoning the air that God gave them to breathe. I know it's a hard addiction to break, but it's also worth every effort. Recognizing the true source of help in quitting should be easy though. If God gave us our breath in the first place, He must have an interest in restoring it to us. As a woman on oxygen myself and seeing my dad die of lung cancer and emphysema, I encourage everyone to keep trying as many times as it takes to quit the habit.

Worth Saving?

In cleaning out some drawers this week, I came across several scarves and handkerchiefs of my mom's. At risk of eliminating her perfume smell, I decided to wash them on delicate cycle to freshen them up a bit. I haven't any idea how I will ever use them and why I am keeping them, but some things are just hard to part with. Perhaps someday I will be happy I saved them.

Is this how God thinks of the human race? Does He wonder what good we are and if it's worth it to keep us around? Evidently, He just can't part with us. I hope someday He'll be happy He saved us too.

fresh out of the low-heat dryer:

 I think we look better too, when God gets finished with us:

Blind Faith

I found myself in two places today that were oddly related. First at the optometrist's, I took the third vision test for glaucoma and will hear the results of it when the doctor is back on Friday. Right after that I went to Christian Record Services for my weekly volunteer work as a book narrator for the blind.

I have to admit to being a bit nervous about the prospect of glaucoma, if that's what it turns out to be. But Jesus gave a remedy for eye problems. For those in the Laodicean church who were blind and didn't even know it, He offered to anoint their eyes with eyesalve. (Revelation 3:18) If God can cure spiritual blindness, then I am covered. Because that's the only kind of blindness I should really worry about.

In the studio at www.christianrecord.org 

Calming the Storm

I just heard about another disaster to fall on a niece of mine. She has four beautiful little daughters, but the two-year-old recently survived a dog attack, with multiple stitches on her face. Very traumatic for the whole family, as they were all there when it happened. But then tonight, it seems that they have had a house fire, destroying a large portion of their house.

We wonder when trials like this just seem to keep happening. If you have a belief in God, these bad experiences can shatter your image of Him. Let alone reduce your trust in Him to protect and keep you.

I've come to the conclusion that even God can't (or more correctly, won't) prevent all disasters though, simply because this is a planet that has rebelled, and Lucifer is temporarily in charge of as much mischief as he can muster. Let's be careful not to blame God for Satan's handiwork.

God, on the other hand, has promised to be with us in hard times. He doesn't always calm the storm, but He is always there to calm us. The comfort and strength He provides may be just what we need to carry us forward, even after the storm subsides. I pray my niece and her family will look to God as the means to survive these ordeals and that they can soon have some normalcy back in their lives.

Worth the Work

I froze some tomatoes and green peppers from the garden today. It will be so nice to have them later on in soups and chili. They taste so much better than the store-bought ones. Even with all the hard to work to prepare the soil, do the planting, weeding, watering, and prep for the freezer, they are worth it.

It's like that with many of our life's accomplishments though. The more work you put into a project, the sweeter and more profitable it turns out to be. And looking at my own life, the harder I struggle and the more difficult my lot appears to be, I can still rely on a reward in heaven that God has promised when I trust and love Him. All my struggles will be worth it on that great resurrection morning.

ripening up just fine, despite the heat wave outside

(like me, ripening up for heaven)

Holding on to Holding Hands

Once again, I went to church alone today. It does seem different without my husband sitting by my side. When we pray, Dean used to reach over to hold my hand and of course, I miss that. That and his booming voice during the hymn singing. There even seems to be less Amens without Dean's fervent ones ringing out. Church just isn't the same without him. Even though for some, it might be less scary, and for me, less stressful, due to his dementia.

Years ago when Dean and I were talking about our engagement while I was in college, I mentioned to him that his proposal was such a surprise to me because, up to that point, he hadn't even held my hand. He reminded me that he most certainly had held hands with me. It was during prayer! Well, who would have thought that would have counted? I stood corrected.

Thirty-six years ago I married this wild cowboy from Idaho. His hands were calloused and so masculine back then. I did remember holding hands the first time we went to church after his accident twelve years ago. When I took his hand during prayer that day, I noticed how soft and smooth it was, and almost cried. It was like holding the hand of a stranger.

The cowboy had changed. But he's still pretty wild. And I'm still glad I married him.

Drought?

One has to wonder about the incredibly hot temperatures we've been having. Everyone mostly worries about how uncomfortable it is outside, but no one is thinking much about how this will affect our water supply.

In this country we haven't a clue what kind of suffering a drought could mean. Drought is what happens in poor countries, and is followed by intense thirst and hunger by a large share of the population. Surely our water that comes so effortlessly through our water taps would never be affected by such a force of nature.

This is how most of our disasters fall on us though. We think it will never happen to us. Including Dean's tractor accident. Who would have thought that one careless moment could be such a life-changer for him?

The Sabbath makes it easy to identify blessings though. By slowing down the pace of life and looking at nature--after all, it is a celebration of creation--you are forced to see things in your life that would otherwise go unnoticed. Like that cool water pouring into your glass at the kitchen sink. Think about it next time you pour. Along with your ability to remember five minutes later that you drank it.

We are surrounded by blessings, even when it's 100 degrees out.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

You know you're a grandma when you are just as worn out attending VBS as the workers who are hosting it. This has been an exhausting week to me, after taking my granddaughters to Vacation Bible School the past few nights, but I wouldn't have traded it for the whole world. It's a memory I'm sure they will cherish too.

My sincere thanks go out to the volunteers for their hard efforts in all the areas of Vacation Bible School. To the tribal leaders (teachers), recreation leaders, drama and music presenters, craft directors, and those who helped prepare and serve the snacks. There was a lot of hard work before and after the events, most of it unobserved, but none the less appreciated.

It was a mission project on our own soil. So vital for the growth and maintenance of our church family. You have all earned jewels in your heavenly crowns this week.

And here's one of the ladies who made it happen!

Thanks, Charlene!!!

Copycat

Julia (age 2), my second granddaughter, went to Vacation Bible School tonight, along with her sister Jenna. After scoping out the program the last two nights with Jenna, I determined that Julia would have no problem fitting in with the young girls in Jenna's "tribe" (class). And sure enough, she was young enough that the older girls loved taking her by the hand and showing her "the ropes" of Vacation Bible School.

As their tribe sat on the floor and listened to a story and talked about the lesson, it tickled me that whenever anyone raised their hand to answer the teacher, Julia would raise BOTH her arms too. This puzzled me a bit, but maybe she just wasn't sure which hand to raise, so she did both. She's become quite a copycat around her big sister, and she was using all her copycat skills to fit in tonight.

Thinking back on her attempts to imitate her classmates makes me want to be more attuned to following the example of Jesus in my own life. Am I so anxious to copy Him that I will use BOTH my arms or legs, or whatever part of me He needs, to follow where He leads? I hope so.

Julia with King Nebuchadnezzar

Paying the Price

Our garden has been a rabbit playground all summer. Next year we've just got to have a better fence to keep them out, but for now I try to think of them as our little gleaners, and let them have what I can't get to first.

The other day though, it was rather a shock to see a dead rabbit between the cucumbers and peppers. I could afford a slight feeling of sadness, since I wouldn't be the one to dispose of the carcass, but I couldn't help but wonder how and why our garden happened to end up as the morgue. Even rabbits must have stories to tell.

Bottom line though, when you let rabbits run (or bad habits persist), you better have a shovel handy to bury the end result. Someone pays a price.

Vacation Bible School

I loved taking my granddaughter to Vacation Bible School tonight. She's just turning four this month, and it brought back so many memories of my daughter attending VBS in years past. She attended very young, because I always volunteered to help or teach a class. But her first Vacation Bible School that she attended by herself was in a very small town we lived in, called Roberts, Idaho.

It was hosted by a little non-denominational church there and I'll never forget how one of the adults came to me when I picked her up and said that she was the first one out of her seat to come to the front when they made a call for who wanted to be saved. It was a treasured memory I have kept all these years. My daughter's first public testimony of her faith. She had been through a lot in her short five years. And she didn't hesitate to answer God's call to be saved. I'd like to think that my training had laid some groundwork for the event.

We underestimate the power of God's working on very young souls. Parents should never miss an opportunity to bring their children to Jesus, both at home during family worships and at church. You never know when the message will hit home and cause them to connect with their Lord and Savior. The kind of connection that will sustain them for their whole lifetime.

A Good Custom

It was so nice of the pastor to bring communion to Dean today. He and the new student pastor came, just as promised on the phone to Dean this past week, and we held our own private communion service here at home. Dean has not been attending church for some time now, due to some complications with medicines, having so many falls, and just his increased dementia issues.

It has been less stressful for me to celebrate our Sabbaths alone, but lately Dean has OK'ed me to attend by myself, and so long as I'm comfortable leaving him for that long, I'll keep going on my own for now.

It pains me to think of Dean not attending church though, as it has been a part of his life since he was born. His parents were staunch attenders. And so were Dean and I while raising our daughter and all through our marriage. Even when Dean was living a not-so-stellar lifestyle, he was still in church every time the doors were open. He especially misses the fellowship now, a part of church life that some don't treasure nearly enough.

We should all cherish our freedom of public worship more than we do. One never knows when or how the privilege could be taken away.

Luke 4:16 "...as His custom was, He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day..." Like Jesus, attending church is evidently a habit we should all get accustomed to.

P.S. Any church  members who would like to visit Dean would certainly be welcome!

Mind Control

I was on top of the world this morning driving home from a productive garage sale hunt. Something for my granddaughters that I was intent on finding for them. I had prayed to be led to the item and found it, so I was really excited and thinking about telling my daughter about it when I got home.

I turned down a side street to come home and realized I was about to fall down from my emotional high mountain when I saw a police car following me with lights flashing. Oh, no. How fast WAS I going? As you'd expect, the officer had a number in mind. There was no question, I was going to get a ticket. All of a sudden, that garage sale find didn't seem like such a savings any more.

Just a few seconds of not keeping my mind where it should have been turned out to be very costly. But life is like that. Take your mind off God long enough or at the wrong time and you're bound to pay the consequences. I'm just sayin'...

Goals

Excitement of my day was when my daughter shared her weight loss secret with me. We are now part of a community of losers! This website helps you count your calories, chart your exercise, and lets you know when you have reached your goals. She's been doing it for several weeks now with her cell phone and had good success.

It's quite a step up from the simple food diary I've used over the years, which was just a spiral notebook where I listed (manually with a pen, no less) everything I ate that day. That worked some, because I would be able to see what foods I should try to avoid the next day.

But this is so much more sophisticated and revealing that I'm anxious to give it a try and lose some of this middle section weight that is making it harder for me to breathe. So far, all my efforts to lose have been pretty worthless, except for preventing me from putting on further pounds.

I'm sure any weight loss program is more likely to succeed when you have firm and valid reasons for losing. Women used to talk about their dieting in terms of looking better in their summer swimsuits, but I'm hearing more and more people talk about doing it for their health. This is a great reason as well, but I think we must even go further than that. The first approach was vanity, but the second one is still focusing on self.

We do it to be able to take care of those we love and to be available for them for a longer time. But also to be available for God. Illness may still strike us down through no fault of our own and God still uses us, but sometimes God needs to work through a healthy person. Third John 2 says, "Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers."

Evidently God has goals for us as well. We need to cooperate with His program.

www.myfitnesspal.com -- go there!

A Piece of Cake

Dean is at our brain injury support group by himself tonight. I didn't feel anyone would want exposure to my cold, so I dropped him off--with name tags and refreshments (it was our month). I'm sure he'll do alright there by himself. We've known these people for ten years. Same meeting place, same time, same night of the month. We give reminder calls just before the meeting night though. I called my list just today, rather late. No excuse, I was even reminded to do the reminding. Oh, dear. Is my memory slipping too?

I remember one elderly couple who used to come to our meetings years ago. He had a head injury and the wife was his caregiver. Over the course of a few years, however, it became obvious to some in our group that she was having memory problems too. What a sad affair! Neither of them being able to remember appointments, etc. I was hoping they had family who was ready to step in and take over her caregiving duties when it got bad enough. I believe they finally did.

Who knows what the future holds for any of us? I'm just barely in my sixties, and these things do weigh on my mind. Probably because I have dealt with Dean's dementia and memory loss for so long already. My family and I are pretty much professionals by now. So, it should be a piece of cake for us. Right?

Not so fast here. If there's one thing I've learned as a caregiver, it's that no one has all the answers or skills needed to deal with the hard issues of life. No one, that is, except God. The thing I fear most is not being dependent on others, but not having God to depend on. And of course, that will never happen with our awesomely faithful God. His promise was and is: "And lo, I am with you ALWAYS."

In His Arms

The nurse came today to evaluate Dean after his fall this weekend. She usually comes on Thursday, but I knew she'd want to see him before then, since he has complained of pain in his ribs again. I think it is getting better each day though, so the damage must be minimal. I was glad I wouldn't have to take him to see a doctor. Am not feeling up to much myself with this cold still raging in me.

I was just looking at my old calenders  to see how many colds I have had the past few years. I've been marking them down. The amazing thing was that I never had a cold that interfered with taking care of my parents the year I was caregiving for them. But after both of the funerals were over, I caught three bad colds almost on top of each other.

Now it could possibly be explained that I was operating on adrenalin and it might have boosted my immune system. But I actually did get one or two mild colds that year during times that my care wasn't needed as badly. Once when my sister was here to help.

No, I think it was God putting a protective hand on me. Giving me the strength and health I would need to do intense work that I still can't believe I was able physically to perform. God was very close to our whole family when we needed it. I picture Him carrying us in His arms and leaving only one set of footprints in the sand, as a famous poem depicts.

How close we are when we are in someone's arms. I know He's still walking beside me now and the future holds no fear. He's going to see us through it.

Me and my oxygen in North Carolina in 2011--lots of footprints here!

Fall Prevention

I've been hesitant to leave Dean for more than an hour or two by himself, but yesterday proved that disasters can happen even when he's not alone. It was early afternoon; I was in bed, nursing this cold, when my nephew and I heard a loud thud and moan coming from the living room. We both rushed out there to find him on the floor with a chair suspiciously in the middle of the room underneath the ceiling fan.

The fan had broken a blade last week and he wanted to inspect the damage via standing on the chair. Not a wise choice when you consider he had seven falls in one month last spring. Fortunately, he didn't seem to suffer too much from the spill. Fell on his wrist, which was hurting some, but he could move it alright. I'm afraid it didn't do his cracked ribs much good though, because he woke me up at 1:30 in the morning, complaining that he couldn't sleep and was hurting. Gave him a couple of Tylenol. I'll call his home health nurse tomorrow, especially if it keeps him up again.

Aren't we all a bit like Dean though? We think we are capable of fixing things in our life on our own, when the truth is we're just going to fall and make it all worse in the end. Dean struggles with being dependent on us, but we all struggle with depending on God. Dean needs to ask us before tackling any kind of job, but we should do the same with God. We could prevent a lot of falls that way.

Battle Position

I'm taking a cold lying down today. Seriously, I don't feel like getting off this pillow, so guess I'll stay and do battle in a reclining position. The only thing that gets me to rise is a coughing spell or to blow my nose, and these are becoming more frequent as the day progresses. My colds morph me from a well person, almost instantly to a very ill and frail old lady. I've been on oxygen so much today, I may float away into a cloud by tomorrow.

I can only hope for a short duration cold. But that is the exception, rather than the rule around here. So, guess I'll get back to my battle station and pray myself well. God knows when the caregiver needs care. Being the Sabbath, I think I'll rest on that promise.

Stressings and Blessings

This is the second week of 100 degree weather, and the garden is really suffering, even though I water it faithfully every day. Sometimes I water in the morning; but if I'm too busy, it has to wait till evening. The poor cucumbers look about dead during the hottest part of the day. But as soon as the sun starts to go down, they perk right up. The sun and heat are obviously quite stressful to plants.

I can sympathize with stress. My life has been marked with it almost from the start. Not as much as many, I'm sure. But I've had my share. A father with anger issues, a congenital deformity, an abusive husband on drugs, divorce, depression, cancer and deaths in the family, career loss, poverty-level living, and being a caregiver for a spouse with brain injury and dementia.

Fortunately though, I've had a God to keep me "watered" morning, noon, and night. I've needed it.  He's blessed me with a husband to love, a faithful daughter, son-in-law, and nephew to support me, and two adorable granddaughters to charm and entertain me. Let alone a house I'm in the process of owning, a car given to me by my father, and plenty of clothes and food. As a matter of fact, my watering cup runneth over. I'm perking right up like a cucumber, just thinking about the blessings. Who cares about stresses, when God blesses!

Under Control

The other day I went to visit someone in a nursing care facility. The gentleman is in his nineties, but has hopes of going back to his own home after enough therapy there. Since I had a little time on my hands after the visit, I thought I would scope out the dementia unit and had someone from admissions give me a tour.

I don't know what prompted me to ask for a tour. Dean, my husband, is still so young. But we don't know how fast his dementia will progress or how long my health will permit me to take care of him. I just pray that Dean won't have to be in a place like that for long, as comfortable and attractive as it was.

In any event, I am just trying to leave it in the Lord's hands. His timetable was so perfect for my parents' end time a couple of years ago. As stressful as the time was for us all, God knew exactly how much care we were capable of giving and exactly how much suffering they were able to endure.

God really is the perfect Caregiver. And He has it all under control.

The Price of War

My mother's favorite holiday was Christmas. But as much as she loved that holiday, my father hated the one we celebrate today, the Fourth of July. Not for what it stood for, of course. A World War II veteran, no one was more patriotic than my dad. He flew a flag in front of his house all year round. What he dreaded about the Fourth was the noise that accompanied it. All the firecrackers that seemed to plague their peaceful world for days before and after the designated day.

I thought for years that all the noise just made him nervous. Their little dog was jittery too, and there was fear of sparks landing on their roof, like they did one year. Besides, as a former law enforcement officer, it bothered him that city ordinances about safety were overlooked, and he couldn't abide anyone getting by with breaking the law.

But then one year my dad told me the main reason fireworks bothered him. He said he had heard plenty of noisy gunfire when he was in Japan right at the close of the war. I never thought of my father being in that much danger during the war, because his ship arrived right after the bombing of Hiroshima to help with reconstruction of the country. He had enlisted at the end of the war, when he was only fifteen (he didn't need a birth certificate for the Army, if his mother signed some papers). After some thought though, and reading more about the history of the times, I realize he was in quite a bit of danger there in Japan. We Americans were still the hated enemy for years following the destruction caused by the atom bomb.

So, now it makes more sense to me why my dad did not like firecrackers. And I'm sure that anyone who has been in a war-torn country feels the same. The noise and sparks represent war. I know they bring enjoyment for their beauty and are something to look forward to during a long, hot summer, but let's not forget what they represent. They represent the price that a few have had to pay for all of us to have the freedoms we have. The price of war. There's no glory in the trenches, even today. Let's remember.

my dad in Japan

Don't Be Stupid!

Some of you who know my husband might be interested in a story he tells about one Fourth of July in his youth, when he was drinking heavily and spending too much time in the bars. One Fourth of July when he was inebriated, he says he was lighting firecrackers with his cigarette and throwing them under people's chairs. Unfortunately, one of the times, he accidentally threw his cigarette under the chair and put the firecracker in his mouth!

I always laugh when he tells this story, but he said the people in the bar were not laughing when they saw how much he was hurt. It was not funny to be in that much pain. And when you're drunk and still feel pain, it surely was bad.

There must be a moral to this story, besides not mixing alcohol and firecrackers. But I can't really think of one. My daughter has a little saying she uses with her family when she tells them good-bye. She ends her good-bye with, "Don't be stupid." I hope none of my family or friends are being stupid tonight. It really won't be funny if you are hurt.

Finding the Lost

I couldn't believe my good fortune when we made our regular visit to the library on Sunday afternoon. Without expecting a favorable response, I asked if anyone had found my flash drive that I lost in the computer lab there a few nights before. The librarian went straight to the lost and found shelf and came back with my precious "memory" stick! I reported in my blog earlier that it was about the size of a lipstick, so here's a picture of it. I'm just so happy to have it back.

Now, my next responsibility is not to lose it again. Let's see now. I must put it somewhere that I can remember where it is. I know. It'll be safe on my dresser...right next to the lipstick!

I'm so thankful to God for helping me find something twice. I feel even more attached to something lost, because of its miraculous return. God must feel the same way about us. We belonged to Him because He created us. But how much more precious we are when we return to Him after being lost to the world. I intend to stay right where God wants me too, so I won't be lost to Him any more.