Caregiving for Me

Two weeks ago I came down with a monster cold. It was so bad even the first day, with my wimpy lungs, that I went to see the doctor for some additional medicines. Even though I had already started using my nebulizer and cough expectorant, I knew that prednisone and even an antibiotic would probably be added. And it was.

I still went home with the fear that this cold would not end without a call to 911 when my coughing spasms would turn into a choking episode. With less than half of my lungs functioning due to a deformed chest cavity (scoliosis), I just don't have the pulmonary power needed to cough up phlegm or even a tiny piece of food or water that might get lodged in my windpipe.

Three days later after an intense coughing spell, I had the phone in my hand almost ready to punch the 911, before I started to get my breath back. A week after that I actually did dial the 911 when I started to choke again, but told the paramedics I was alright and they didn't have to come.

The very next morning I had to call 911, when I couldn't get any air due to the phlegm closing off my breathing. Even though I had thankfully started breathing by the time they got there, and was using my nebulizer, they insisted I needed to go in to ER. Still in my nightgown, I thought to ask for my purse as we went out the door.

The worse part of my ambulance ride was when I looked in my purse and didn't see my car keys! Sometimes I just leave them lying by the purse and sometimes they are in. I was terrified that Dean would get in the car and drive himself to the hospital! He would be OK driving even though he hasn't been a licensed driver for fifteen years, but would he actually be able to find his way to the hospital without getting lost? I doubted it.

My cell phone was in my purse, however, so I managed to call my daughter when I got to the hospital. Bless her heart, her dad had called her about what had happened, just as she was getting off her night shift and gotten almost asleep. But she said she was on the way to the hospital. I tried to divert her to our house first, but she was determined to be by my side and was almost there.

The happy ending was that after a few tests and they didn't see pneumonia or any sign of infection, I was allowed to go home before noon, with another round of meds to get filled at the drug store. I was so thankful that my daughter was there to take me home, and the house was still standing when we got there, although Dean had been pretty shook up over it all.

I had assumed that he would go ahead and take his van to his day program that day, but he hadn't been able to get his socks on, so had stayed home. How could this man have taken care of himself, if I had been admitted to the hospital? I hope I never find out. But it was comforting to know that my daughter and son-in-law are here to step up to the plate and help. I even have a nephew fifty miles away, who would have dropped everything to come, had I needed him.

One thing that brought a smile was when Dean and I went to church this weekend, and they handed him a microphone to share a prayer request. He asked that people pray that his wife not have another coughing "spree". Yep, that described it pretty well. Some people have shopping sprees; I have coughing sprees.

I was indeed thankful that prayers did see us both through this eventful week. But as soon as I feel better, I'm going shopping instead.

my "at home" hospital

Moms in My Life

Today being Mother's Day, I am overcome with emotions from several different fronts. I'm missing my own mother, appreciating my daughter's motherhood of two special granddaughters, recognizing the enormous sacrifice and love of all the women I have known in our family and church circle.

But taking it down to a personal level, as a caregiver, I'm reminded that motherhood doesn't end when a child is grown. We all require a little mothering as we get older. Just a listening ear and shoulder to cry on. Not all moms are as good at that as others, but it's something we need to keep practicing, especially when our  grown children no longer need our physical intervention as much as our emotional and moral support. (And conversely, we mothers need it too. That's why sisterhood was invented.)

Even Dean, who seems to be requiring more and more assistance with the tasks of life, is still in just as much need for someone who understands and appreciates him and his quirky ways, as he is with needing someone to help put his socks on.

As I contemplate our changing family roles, I am tending to embrace my role as caregiver/mother more on a day like today, Mother's Day. I can more easily find reason to celebrate my role, however it transforms itself with Dean over the next few years. I'm ready to be whatever he needs, because it continues to strengthen my relationship with him and with God. And what else is there?

my sister, mother, and I in 2005 (trip to Florida)

The Team Challenge

Last night our son-in-law came over to set up a new wireless printer for me. Could have done it myself, but wouldn't have been easy; and besides it was a chance to see the grandkids for an evening.

In order to get the house quieter though while he worked, our daughter took her dad somewhere so it was just the kids and I in the house. Believe me, it was an even trade-off. Two little girls for one big man/child.

The noise factor from the girls was kept confined to the hallway where they ran back and forth with Superman-style capes (really small blankets), trying to run fast enough to make the capes lift like parachutes.

It reminded me of a report I got from our daughter after a recent store trip she had with her dad. She said he challenged someone else riding in a department store power-chair to race him. So believe it or not, they both raced their "buggies" from one end of the store to the other to see whose cart was fastest.

Life itself is a race. Sometimes I feel like retiring my track shoes, but the people around me indicate that I'd better stay in the race awhile longer. God isn't through with this caregiver yet. And I'd better do all I can to stay fit in order to keep up with the team.

What a Pair

We just finished the second "trial" week of babysitting for our 3 1/2-yr.-old granddaughter every day--all day (well, during school hours--her sister is in kindergarten now). This way their mommy can get some sleep and hang on to her new third-shift employment which she just started.

The biggest unknown factor was my ability to cater to the demands of TWO toddlers during the day. Especially when there's such an age difference in the two. I think you know of whom I speak. Mae is just barely out of the "it's mine" stage, but she easily reverts to it when Grampa repeatedly wants to play with one of her toys, and there's the question, at least in her mind, of when and if she'll get it back.

Then there's also Grampa's constant requests to "keep your feet off the furniture", "put your coat by the door", "pick up your dolly", etc., etc., punctuated with frequent calls to "come give me a hug" and "why don't you answer Grampa?"

But we are adjusting around here. Mae really does love her Grampa and most of the time they get along just fine. We have separate rooms for them to "play" in, and I do my best to keep them occupied separately, especially close to naptimes (either hers or his).

The bottom line is there are lots of grandmas out there, willing to sacrifice to keep their precious little ones out of daycare. I know I'm going to give it all I've got too. It's only for a short time anyway. Keeping in mind that they don't stay "little" very long makes it easier to bear. (Wish I could say that for Grampa, who's development seems quite fragile these days.)

It makes me wonder how God can cater to us human beings, as diverse and needy as we are. Thank heaven, He makes the sacrifice to keep us close to Him as our grandma, and reminds us that this time on earth is short enough to make it all worthwhile.

Reminders

Been so busy this week taking care of myself that I haven't had time for much blogging. A monster cold came on like a lamb, but soon showed itself as a lion, and set me reeling again with two episodes of coughing that ended up as choking, near-911 calls. (Praise the Lord, this is the first cold I've had since last February though!)

Most of you know about my pulmonary restrictive disease, causing me to be on oxygen part of the time. My deformed chest cavity from scoliosis doesn't give me the room I need to breathe. When asked by the nurse if I was short of breath, it was tempting to report that all my breaths were short. I haven't had a deep breath in years, maybe never really. Wouldn't know one if it hit me!

But this blog isn't about me. It's about my caregiving life with my hubby dear. After returning home after a six-hour emergency room visit, my daughter (MY caregiver for the day) gave her dad the low-down on not overworking her momma while she's sick. Her lecture really seemed to influence his behavior these past few days. He has been much less needy himself and more observant of my needs, constantly asking what he can do to help.

One thing I've discovered with my illnesses though is that I need reminders for my care. Not taking my medicine or breathing treatments at regular intervals gets me in trouble every time. Seeing my medical arsenal on the washing machine may have reminded Dean of the seriousness of my condition too. It looked like this:

Living in a household with someone who has memory deficits keeps me looking for memory aids for both of us. I have to be doubly cognizant of remembering appointments, medicine times, getting bills paid on time, etc., etc.

How nice that God placed one reminder for us that happens at regular intervals, making it even easier to remember. How important to remember our "weekly date" with Him! He actually blessed a certain day and placed it in the Ten Commandments, so we would never lose it. What could be easier?

Like Children

The other day as I was transporting my daughter and granddaughters somewhere, we noticed little three-year-old Mae singing in the back seat. She was repeating her song over and over. My daughter commented that she was like her grandpa. (Dean, as I've indicated earlier, is a master song-repeater, of the "broken record" variety, getting stuck on the same song for days and weeks.)

I corrected her in saying that she wasn't copying Grandpa, but Grandpa was the one who was copying his granddaughter, and we both got a chuckle. Yes, repetitious singing is normal for a three-year-old, but it wasn't normal...well, you know the rest. There's nothing "normal" about dementia, as those who've lived with it can attest. Keeping your sense of humor is one of the ways you can help keep your sanity though.

I have found it humorous that one of Dean's latest songs he's been humming and singing is "Rock-a-bye Baby". Usually his songs are ones he's heard lately, so I couldn't understand how this one got into his brain. It was so different from the hymns he usually gets attached to.

After talking about Grandpa copying Julia though, it dawned on me that he may have heard the girls singing "Rock-a-bye Baby" to their dolls, or maybe he started singing it with them as they were trying to rock their doll-babies to sleep. So, this would confirm the copying-his-granddaughter theory.

Jesus told us to be as little children, loving and trusting. Dean is reminding us of that every day.

Dean holding one of his granddaughters a few years back.

Chasing After Dad

We just spent the last two days at a state brain injury conference in Kearney, Nebraska. That would be Dean, our daughter, and I. It was an action-packed time, full of adventures and felt like a big family reunion, since this was the seventh annual one they have had and we've attended.

We three adults shared a motel room this time, but our daughter didn't object too much until she found out how much her dad snores. She knew after last year what her duties were and thought they would actually be simplified by her being in the same room with us. I don't know how many times last year her dad forgot his room-key and they had to borrow one from the desk or come looking for me in the convention center somewhere.

One time last year we found each other in the vendor area. I'm thinking I spotted them first because they were pretty hard to miss. Dean had on his cowboy hat, a towel draped over his shoulder, and, most noticeable, feet that were bare. They were on their way to or from the pool, but had forgotten his roomkey. I came to recognize our daughter's furtive eye-rolling, a carryover from her teens, and would let her lean in to secretly whisper in my ear, "Mom, you're a saint!"

This year started out with a bang too. Or rather a plop. Dean fell full-body on the sidewalk outside her apartment as we were getting ready to leave. He thought he could step down from a foot-high retaining wall like the rest of us, and of course went down like a dishrag. Fortunately, our son-in-law was there to help hoist his 250 plus-lb. body back to an upright position. He wasn't hurt, but we were all certainly placed on red-alert to watch for falls again this time around.

After the first day's busy agenda, we three headed to the pool and spa in the motel for a little relaxation time. Dean was doing alright in the hot tub and then a quick dip in the pool. And then he wanted to go sit on the patio outdoors. It was early evening and getting rather chilly out there, so our daughter and I remained inside, knowing it was no use trying to change his mind. After letting him sit there in our view through the window for a short while, we knew one of us would have to fetch him back inside before he got too chilled.

Our daughter looked longingly at me and said, "Can you do it, Mom? I've been chasing him all day." I started laughing so hard, I could hardly get out my reply. "Well, I've been chasing him EVERY day!" And then we both about split our guts laughing, one of the best coping tools you can bring with you to a full-of-surprises brain injury convention, especially with characters like our "outlaw cowboy" in attendance.

King of the Remote

Our Blessed Hope

Some good news and some bad news on the Dean home healthcare front this week. First, we finally landed an appointment with the geriatric psychiatric clinic in Omaha on Valentine's Day. Someone cancelled, so we got their slot. Perhaps they decided to celebrate Valentine's Day instead. In any event, we'll take this opportunity to get another opinion about Dean's slipping health status and what medicines are appropriate for him at this time.

The not-so-good news though is that his platelet count is down. They want to check it again in two weeks. Keeping our fingers crossed on this one. Hoping it doesn't indicate anything too dire.

On a bright note, we had a family outing with Dean and the daughter and granddaughters this past week. It was quite a trip, just fifty miles away, but took us half a day to accomplish. It included a quick run into a lawyer's office for me to sign the tax forms for my parents' final years. Then we met a cousin at Burger King and visited with her for almost an hour. Followed by a quick visit to my parents' graves, where the girls left some "sturdy" plastic flowers. The only kind to survive these cold, wintry Nebraska days.

It seems our entire lives are sprinkled with good and bad news, aren't they? We should never expect this world, so tainted with sin, to be totally without cold, wintry days. But thankfully, the sun doesn't stay away forever. There is an eternal spring to look forward to. And the dimmer our lives become here, the brighter that Blessed Hope becomes.

Sleeping the Day Away

I want so much to report on Dean's health condition and say that the puzzle has been solved, but I'm afraid that might be a bit premature. He's still sleeping an enormous portion of his days away, but is awake several hours during the night. There is just nothing I can do to make him stay awake during the day or to make him go back to bed at night.

We went to the doctor's Thursday, and after urine and blood tests, we still don't have a clue as to what's going on with Dean and why he's showing such magnified symptoms. The symptoms aren't new, but they certainly are increased in just the last couple of weeks. We're adjusting the dosage of a couple of medicines that might help.

I stayed home from church because I don't feel comfortable leaving him for even a little while any more. He is so disoriented and confused when he is awake. Especially when he first gets up.

Another picture puzzle is being worked out on my dining room table. But the biggest puzzle of all is once again napping his day away in his recliner. Our daughter and the two granddaughters came over, but even they could not keep him awake more than a few minutes.

I'm sure God must be puzzled over a lot of His beloved children too. He tries for years to wake them up from their spiritual lethargy. We Christians sleep our way into spiritual lukewarmness. I pray God will not only wake me up, but that I can stay awake as long as time allows me on this earth and that I can serve Him to the fullest right up to my dying breath.

One of the few times he's been awake!

Flip-flops in December

It was with great pleasure that I turned Dean over to our daughter's care today for a few hours, in return for my watching the granddaughters last night, while their parents did some grocery shopping. It would give me a chance to get some shopping done as well.

I noticed when I took some trash out earlier that the weather was warm enough for my preferred footwear of flip-flops and the absence of coat, jacket, or sweater. Being the carefree soul that I am, I chose to wear the flip-flops while on my errands.What a great feeling to be so lightly attired, and in December, no less. I even left my hair down, just giving it a few strokes rather than twisting it up in my usual bun.

So I went dressed for the sixties, weather-wise. But didn't realize that the background music that played in the store while I shopped would be your classic oldie-goldies sixties variety also, with all the tunes I listened to as a teenager. I soon found myself mouthing the words, tapping and almost dancing to the music over the intercom, while I shopped for the items on my list.

Keep in mind that I was in no way a surfer girl or a hippie in my youth. But like most young people, I listened to the music of the times, and with such repetition that here I was, almost half a century later, remembering the words verbatim and enjoying the beat and rhythm of the tunes. They are embedded in my memory forever, even though I stopped listening to popular hits when I became a Christian in the seventies. What a scary thought that these songs are still with me.

With this in mind, I must be honest with myself. The only music worth listening to is the music that praises God and draws me closer to Him. Lord, help me avoid Satan's trap of worldly music whenever possible. Let me save my memory for you, Lord. For music that uplifts You and is fit for the ears of angelic choir members.

Cinnamon Factory

I am not a crafty person. Oh, I have creative juices flowing, and I think I have an eye for beauty, but my hands are not my friends when I work with just about anything. I try not to blame it on being left-handed. I just don't have much patience for material objects of any kind.

Case in point. Earlier this week, I thought on a whim that my daughter could use a break from motherhood so she could get her house cleaned for the holiday coming up. So I offered to take my two granddaughters for a few hours in the afternoon and work with making some little gifts to give to those coming for Thanksgiving.

We did ornamental, scented cookies made with applesauce and cinnamon. Someone had told me about them and they sounded easy enough for my handicraft-challenged hands. Plus I saw on the internet how you could make a heart with two candy canes and pour melted chocolate in them, and just let them harden in the refrigerator. Keep in mind, I wasn't just thinking of keeping it simple for two eager toddlers. It had to be easy for me too.

To make a long story short, I've spent hours this week tying tiny ribbons on these cookies and assembling some gift boxes to put them in, filling bags with the candy cane hearts, writing on tags and putting them on the bags. Not to mention having my house smell like a cinnamon factory all week as the cookies dry out.

I've come to the conclusion that my gift of patience comes easier with people than it does with things. So, this evening, as I labored over the finishing touches of this project, I have been conjuring up images of the smiles on my granddaughters' faces as they distribute the little boxes to their guests tomorrow. That will be reward enough for my madness.

Grandma's lil' workshop table

Missing Eyeglasses

Yesterday my daughter called and asked if her eyeglasses were still on the dining room table where she left them earlier in the day, when she was visiting here. I remember her distinctly putting them there, so we were both mystified when they showed up missing again from the table.

The first place I looked this time was on Dean's face. (See August 2012 "Connecting the Dots".) He was sporting thin-wired glasses, but they were bifocals, so we deemed him innocent this time. Then I checked the floor under the table and by the computer, but all were empty of anyone's glasses. By now, I was feeling innocent myself. The eyeglasses were evidently somewhere besides my house.

Then this morning as my nephew and I were about to walk out the door by the dining room table to leave for his work, he almost stepped on a pair of wire-framed glasses on the floor. They were invisible, lying on my dark-patterned carpet. It was fortunate that they didn't get crushed underfoot. Somehow they must have gotten knocked off the table and onto the floor, which proved to be a perfect hiding place for them.

God has promised to be a hiding place for us. When we get knocked around by life's trials, when trouble is looking for us, and when the pressures of life are about to crush us, God conceals us protectively amidst the pattern of His will. Seek His will and it will sustain you and lift you up in the end.

Born Again--Daily

My daughter and I returned from Women's Retreat this afternoon. It seems both husbands were happy to see us home. And it is good to be home. We both feel recharged and renewed, spiritually and physically. Hopefully our families will see such a difference in us that they will be glad to see us go next year as well!

Noticing the amount of food that was consumed by Dean while I was gone, he wasn't missing any meals. Besides all the microwaveable freezer food I left him and several pounds of fresh grapes, he helped eat a whole crock pot of chilli that my nephew made. Dean admitted he had six bowls of it himself. His appetite was not waning while I was gone. But one of the first things he asked me when I walked in the door was what could I fix him to eat. Maybe eating reminds him of me. Or I remind him of eating?

Right now my appetite for God is right on par with Dean's appetite for food. We learned from the main speaker just today that to be born again, we need to admit to God we need to change, ask Him to fix it, and then hold onto Him to keep us from doing it again. No matter how long we've been a Christian, we need to do this on a continual basis. If Paul said he died daily, then he must surely mean that he would be born again daily too.

I need food daily, at set intervals. I needed the reminder this weekend that I need God just as often. May my appetite for Him never languish.

Kayla and I at breakfast--Women's Retreat 2012

Daughter's Humor

The presentation about caregiving that I have been looking forward to giving for the last year is over now. It was gratifying to see over twenty women at our church's Kansas-Nebraska Women's Retreat attend, the majority of them caregivers themselves.

The one caregiver woman that I was most interested in this weekend was my daughter. This is the first women's retreat we have attended together.

Last night I was rehearsing my seminar presentation alone in our motel room with Kayla as my practice audience. My nervousness was seriously reduced by one of her comments, because it brought about such a good laugh for both of us. At one place in the PowerPoint I ask what a highly mobile society means to caregiving today. She quipped "We are on the phone all the time?"

All I can say is, she has her daddy's sense of humor. And when I needed it the most. She also had prayer for me just before the seminar began. Just when I needed it most.

The Dentist

Last week I accompanied my daughter to the dentist's office for a checkup for my two granddaughters. It was a very kid-friendly dentist, so both girls, just 2 and 4, were allowed to sit in small dentist chairs in the same room, just a few feet from each other, with a TV screen to occupy their minds. I'm sure this was to help reduce the anxiety and fear that small children feel at the dentist.

When it was found that Jenna, the oldest, would require some follow-up work, I overheard the dentist telling her momma not to overburden her with the details of the procedures, even though he explained to my daughter just what would transpire on their next visit. The dentist himself would fill her in on just what was going to happen when they arrived for their next appointment. Once again the fear and anxiety factor was taken into account, even in how information was given to these pint-sized patients.

Our heavenly Father is just as mindful of our potential fears about what will happen at the end of time. As these troublesome events approach, He admonishes us to press together, just as sheep in a flock will do when a predator is near. And He is careful to give us just enough information through the prophets as we need to make it through the hard times. We, as children ourselves, would be much too fearful if we knew all the details too soon. But He will tell us just what we need to know, when we need to know it. I'm glad we live in a people-friendly world. God, like a kid-friendly dentist, will do all He can for His children.

Fit to Serve

This evening my daughter and the two granddaughters and I went to hear a motivational speaker talk about improving our diets and to offer us ways to accommodate special diets. See www.chefmarkanthony.com and www.melodyprettyman.com There was even a free dinner that featured totally vegan foods. We could sample three kinds of "meatballs". Ones without gluten and ones without nuts, plus the regular vegan ones for those of us without allergies. There was a "cheese" sauce made with cashews, and another one made with rice, for those with nut allergies. They were all quite tasty.

There is so much to learn and improve when it comes to healthy living. But all too often we wait for a diagnosis to startle us to renewed resolve. Or even worse, the tragic loss of a loved one via a heart attack or cancer.

Recently my daughter saw the doctor about her migraines, for instance, and he suggested that she try cutting out cheese from her diet. He may as well asked her to cut off her hands! After giving him her dirtiest scowls, she agreed to try it for a couple weeks. Lo and behold, she has discovered that cheese and even dairy were her migraine triggers.

The bottom line is we should all be spending 99% of our time in the produce sections of our grocery stores and leaving the processed, refined, and concentrated man-made products alone. There is ample information out there on this subject to convince us. (See the video "Forks Over Knives" or read "The China Study".)

There are many reasons to take care of our bodies, but to me the one that trumps them all is to do it for the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31 says "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." In other words, we can serve Him better with a healthy body, as opposed to a sick one.

Besides, taking care of myself helps me be a better caregiver. (and would I be even better without butter?~!)

Remember to Forget

It seems like there is something I forgot to tell my daughter the last time we talked on the phone today. How annoying to not remember something that might be important. It feels like it was something important, but for the life of me, I can't recall what it was I wanted to tell her.

Imagine what it must be like for people with dementia, brain injury, or anyone with short term memory loss. How totally disabling for my husband to not be able to remember what he had at his last meal, or even whether he had a meal. To constantly have to remind himself what day it is by posting it in several places around the house, looking at his watch, or asking me, his caregiver.

There is something Dean will not let himself forget though. And that is to tell me and show me his love. He does it multiple times throughout the day with hugs and kisses and verbal and written I love you's. When something is that important to you, you don't let your memory be an excuse for not getting it done.

God has asked His people to remember something too. A day when He wants us to love Him multiple times, just like Dean. Sabbath is a day we've been asked to remember, a day to draw especially closer to Him and forget that we have a care in the world.

Now that's something we would all love to forget...the cares of the world.

Connecting the Dots

Several days ago my daughter asked if she left her wire-rimmed eyeglasses at my house. She seemed to think they were left on my dining room table. I told her I remembered seeing them there, but that they weren't there now, so maybe she left them somewhere else. Of course, I said I'd keep looking for them around the house.

A day or so later, Dean announced that he wasn't wearing his newest prescription glasses. He couldn't find them, so was wearing an old pair he had. This has happened before, so I didn't pay much attention at the time. All his wire-rimmed glasses look about the same to me.

Then last night Dean said he couldn't find even the old pair he was wearing, so I made a search around his recliner, which has a reputation for swallowing up his lost objects. There near it on the floor was a pair of eyeglasses. As I picked them up, they looked familiar. I asked Dean if he was sure they were his, because they looked very similar to Kayla's glasses. Of course, he wasn't sure about anything, even whether he had first found them on the table.

I couldn't hold Dean accountable for "stealing" glasses, but I sure felt like a fool myself for not connecting the dots sooner. Here I had been looking all over for Kayla's glasses, even asking for Dean's assistance, and all along the glasses were right in front of our noses. And literally ON Dean's nose!

How many people search for God all their lives, when He's as close to them as a pair of eyeglasses--sitting majestically right in front of their eyes?

Bloody Elbow

When Kayla, our daughter, came back from a store with her dad today, she had good news and bad news. He was walking in the store with his two little granddaughters on each side, holding their hands. They came to a step that went down and four-year-old Jenna said, as she's heard us do, "There's a step here, Grampa." He has very poor, lower peripheral vision.

But her warning was a second too late. As Dean started to go down, he pushed Jenna out of the way and let go of Julia's hand before he kissed the ground. He had a bleeding elbow to show for his accidental acrobatic show, but at least the girls were out of harm's way. Hence the bad and the good news.

There is a lesson for my daughter to learn with each outing. Last time she learned not to let him hold one of the girls. This time she discovered that even holding their hands can lead to disaster.

I remember one of the last times Grandpa went with them, Jenna told me with her good-bye that they would take good care of Grandpa. So young, but wise to recognize his limitations with dementia and brain injury.

And I'm likewise impressed with Dean's ability to always protect his granddaughters as much as he can, even if it will mean more injury to himself. God is indeed speaking to him and helping him with those kind of quick reflexes.

I hope I can always put others first in my relationships, just like Jesus has done for me.

Julia's Lord

I have to share something about my granddaughter, Julia, age 2. She loves to sing, but there's one song that is evidently irritating to her ears. Every time we all start singing "Kum ba yah, my Lord, Kum ba yah", Julia protests vocally with "no, MY Lord". So her mother, my daughter, has wisely learned to accommodate her two-year-old request and correctly sing the next line "Kum ba yah, Julia's Lord, Kum ba yah." Only then will the determined girl join our singing.

If there's one thing that we want our children to remain possessive about, it's their Lord. Only when God is "all ours" can we share Him with others. Whenever I sing that song or any hymn about my Savior, I'm going to think of putting the emphasis on the "my" and then God and I will share a smile, thinking about a cute little girl, insisting on the right words to the song.

I let her pick this tomato from my garden. 

This was several hours later...I don't think it ever made it to the salad bowl. It's hers!!!