Escaped Pills

This morning when I was filling my own pill organizer, I noticed Dean's pill organizer had one of the little boxes open just a little. Much to my chagrin, Tuesday night's pill door was not only open, but there were three little "escapees" on the loose! Did they fall on the floor somewhere that only a curious dog or child would be able to locate and put in "solitaire" (i.e. their own mouth)?

Dean came into the kitchen at about that time and when I asked what he knew about the "pill break", he informed me that he had noticed that pills had dropped to the floor when he took his pills the night before. But not to worry, he found them and taken them along with his other pills. Well, there's a whole new thing to worry about...what pills were they?

They ended up being "significant" pills, but evidently Dean was able to weather the storm overdose, because, after all, here he was at five in the morning, wide awake and telling me about it with coherent speech and everything.

When bigger things start falling out of their prescribed places in our lives, we follow a similar pattern of wondering, worrying, questioning, and searching. How patient a God we have, who allows us to experience these very human responses. In the end, we often don't get our questions answered, we never find what we're looking for, and it's especially then that our worry can spin out of control.

But God has given us a special tool to help us weather these very real storms of life. It's called faith. Nothing gets the emotions under control better than a healthy dose of this worry-buster. When we turn the controls over to God, He never steers us into waters we can't handle. Things find their perspective in the bigger picture that God Himself controls.

I needed this little reminder this morning. God has the answers and He's in control.

"Lovegiving"

A friend of mine just lost her elderly father. She and her husband have been caregivers for her parents for some time now, so I'm feeling a special sadness for them today. It reminds me of what the end of my own caregiving will feel like.

I don't know if grief is any easier after caregiving or not. Perhaps there's still guilt over whether your care was good enough. But then again, there's some comfort in knowing that you were there for them and did the best you could.

Friends and loved ones often refer to caregivers as saints. But we are actually no more saintly than any other Christian. As a matter of fact, the Bible indicates in many places that anyone who calls on the name of Jesus and is sanctified in Him is a saint. (I Corinthians 1:2) ) Caregiving doesn't make one a saint. It allows us to be one. It's the Christian, saintly thing to do.

It's an opportunity to give back the care and love that's been given to us. One might call it "lovegiving".

That BIG Tractor

I almost hate to write about Dean's pills again, but it is the all-consuming thing in my life right now. Instead of being awake all night, now he's sleeping night and day. He slept through breakfast. But it blew me away when he wouldn't wake up when his Meal on Wheels arrived. It was time to try and reach his doctors and nurses on the phone again.

He got up an hour or so later though, ate lunch, and then I had him help sign some Christmas cards, just so he wouldn't go right back to bed. The notes he wrote on them were a bit undecipherable, but I got a laugh, hearing him read one out loud as he was writing it. He was reminding someone about the big tractor that ran over him. "I mean it was a big, Big, BIG tractor," he wrote. Just comical how he said it.

At least I did have two small accomplishments today, since I seemed to be a failure at trying to talk to anyone about his pills. I got some Christmas cards ready to mail, and I gave the dog a bath.

Jesus gives me small spiritual victories too, even while there's these big, Big, BIG ones out there waiting for me to tackle. I'm not in the battle alone, even though it feels like it some days when no one seems to return my calls. I'll just "make do".

Another Foot Injury

Last night I managed to get a rather long glass shard stuck in the bottom of my foot. It came out easy enough, bled for a bit, but despite all my first aid cleansing and bandaging, hurts pretty bad every time I take a step today. I have to walk on the heel of my foot, so once again I find myself hobbling around the house--reminiscent of last spring's foot fracture fiasco.

I've tried to use my injury as an excuse to get Dean out of his chair more often today, telling him he should be waiting on me, instead of the other way around. But it's a lost cause. He's staying pretty immobile these days, either in bed or in his recliner, except for the two days he goes to his adult day program or the few times I take him to the library, the bread store, our monthly support group, or our weekly Bible study.

So at least for today, Dean and I are both trying to stay in a reclining position. But he has obviously found more success than I have. He's had more practice.

Practice does seem to lead to more success. Even in our spiritual lives. The more I do to feed my faith, the stronger I feel in my Christian walk. Use it or lose it, as the exercise buffs tell us. Bible study, prayer, and witnessing are exercise for the soul.

Hopefully tomorrow my foot will also enable me to just walk around the house without pain. My whole body does feel better with exercise. And so does my soul.

Super-caregiver Sister

There's only one kind of stress that equals that of a caregiver that I can think of, and that's the stress of an educator. Especially a teacher in the middle grades. My sister-in-law falls in this category, but she also has the distinction of being a caregiver. I don't see how she copes with all life is handing her right now. Throw in almost an hour commute each way to school and you can see why I look up to her as a super-caregiver. She and my brother both have enormous family and job responsibilities, and I know it can only be by the grace of God that they can make it through each day.

The reason they are on my mind particularly this evening is that today my sister was hurt at school, trying to break up a fight among some students. She's not seriously injured, but will have to wear a half-cast on her left arm till the tendons heal. She was bruised up enough to be sent to the hospital for evaluation. How tedious it will be for her to type and do many of her teaching tasks after this mishap. We're just thankful she wasn't hurt more seriously.

Whenever any of us feel that our life is spinning out of control, it is often only our faith that keeps us going. This is the main theme of my blog. I want people to know that when we are in the middle of trying times, God is there with us. Sometimes it's even easier to see Him then than when things are going smoothly. We seem to lose sight of Him in the good times. But God is everywhere.

And that's why I will never run out of material for this blog. Look for Him in your life. He is always as close as you will have Him.

Our Last Surviving Tomato

The Last Tomato

We stopped watering our garden over a month ago when the city started enforcing watering restrictions. The tomato plants were about through producing and were looking pretty sorry and soon were pitifully dried up, with just a few marble-sized green tomatoes clinging to the vines.

Then after all summer with no rain we got a whole inch last week and when I let the dog out a couple of days later, I noticed something red on one of the tomato plants. I was shocked to see this one little ripe tomato survivor, just waiting to be picked.

It reminded me of the last days of this earth's history. The Bible says there will be a "time of trouble" (Daniel 12:1). Amos says in ch. 8:11 that there will be a famine, but not of bread, and not a thirst of water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. But a remnant survives, those with the patience of the saints. Revelation 14:12

So, I honor my patient little "remnant" tomato. It gives me faith and courage that God will see us through to the end, even through enormous trials and persecutions.

Dropping in on Blindness

I'm still putting in anti-inflammatory eye drops four times daily since my laser eye surgery last Friday, but today I got busy and missed a dose. You wouldn't think it would be so easy to forget since I try to do it around meal time and then once at bedtime. Especially as important as it is to keep down any inflammation in my eyes following the surgery for glaucoma.

It says in the directions to gently close your eyes for five minutes after putting in the drop. Even that has been hard. Sometimes I have purposely tried to continue doing things with my eyes closed, just to see how it would feel if I couldn't see. It's a harsh reminder of how valuable my eyesight is. It's not a welcome thought.

But then it also reminds me of how my mother lost her sight over the course of several years. She was often discouraged about her fate, and I tried to lift her spirits every time I took her to the eye doctor for another useless appointment. Hope kept her going, but it was faith that made her strong.

This topic of blindness always hits me on Tuesdays, the day I volunteer as a book narrator for Christian Record Services. Ironically, my sessions are cut short due to my breathing problems, not my eyesight. But some day, who knows? God has a plan. I'm just here to live it for Him.

The Tractor Tragedy

This marks an anniversary of sorts. The fact that it falls on the Sabbath makes it all the more poignant. I believe it was on a Friday thirteen years ago that Dean actually had a tractor run over him, causing him multiple life-threatening injuries, including coma and brain injury. So, we celebrated Sabbath on the Labor Day weekend by his bedside in ICU, wondering if he would live or die. And our family has never been the same since. It hasn't been all bad, by any means, but it definitely has been changed from what it was.

When we come to God, we likewise should expect some changes. And it also stems from a life-or-death experience. In many ways, our faith has grown immensely from what, at the time, was an overpowering tragedy.

Tragedy has the power to uplift us, but it also has the power to bring us down. The decision is ours. The attitude we have about even small inconveniences in our life are shaping us for the big stuff. The biggest predictor of success at handling the trials that come to us is the faith and walk with God we have every day.

The trials will come, but they don't have to catch us unawares.

Being a Witness

I visited with a gentleman at Madonna Rehab Hospital today while Dean was in pool therapy. His name is John and several in our church know him. If any of you have been to this hospital, you will notice the walls of the hallways are decorated with pictures and success stories of people with brain injuries of various kinds who have graduated to a normal life "on the outside".

John is another success story who may not grace their walls, but he definitely graces their hallways. He was struck with Guillain-Barre syndrome a few years ago and although his physical recovery has been somewhat stunted and rocky, his spiritual recovery is nothing but miraculous. He permanently resides at Madonna now and is unable to move anything from the neck down, even though his nerves allow him to feel things. He has some movement in his neck and shoulders, I believe, but it is very minimal.

It is such an inspiration to talk with John and hear him share his faith, which he unabashedly does with everyone he meets. As soon as someone asks how he copes with his limitations, he speaks of faith in the Lord as the only thing that has sustained him through it all.

John and I discussed witnessing as essential for our spiritual growth. We talked about the difference of "doing witnessing" and of being a witness. When your activities of daily living are so restricted, he can rejoice in simply being a witness by his life of quiet trust and faith in his heavenly Father. This is the kind of witnessing that we all should desire.

Lord, help me witness, but more important, help me be a witness.

And what a witness you are, John!

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.

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 Best Insurance

Twice this week I have found myself cancelling doctor appointments, instead of scheduling them. I appreciate the secretaries giving me advance warnings, but it still doesn't make sense that Medicare won't pay for a cast on a fractured foot, or for an eye exam when you've been screened negatively for either a cataract or glaucoma.

I'm sorry, but I don't have hundreds of dollars left at the end of the month to pay for these medical costs on my own. I make just a little over the amount to qualify for Medicaid, but not enough to pay for my own medical needs. So for now, I will just pray that my foot heals within the next month, and that this is just a slow-growing cataract in one eye and not glaucoma.

As one of thousands who are "falling through the cracks" financially, I still have a backup insurance plan I can depend on. God and I are business partners in a sense. Returning tithe to God is the best insurance plan on the market. No deductibles and no co-pays. Besides, it builds faith and faith is definitely a valuable commodity when you find yourself falling. I know my God will catch me. He's been doing it for years.

Patience

This morning I told my husband not to forget his cane, which was by the door he was about to go out of to catch his ride to his adult day program. A couple of minutes later, he heads out the door when the van pulled up. As soon as they drive away, I notice the cane still where he left it.

There is very little I can count on him to remember these days. Consequently, I have to be constantly vigilant for both of us, not to forget even the simplest of things. I should be used to this responsibility after twelve years, but things are getting worse it seems. Aging is not friendly to those with brain injury, I've been told. And it isn't a bowl of cherries for the caregiver either.

I know that parents must be ever watchful for their children, especially when they are very young. But it's just not natural to be a parent to your spouse. If you think teenagers are difficult, because they are older, try managing a 60+ year-old. You will know real frustration. But you will also learn real patience.

Maybe that's what these elderly men and women are here for. To develop our patience. I thought I learned it all in raising our daughter, but I'm getting a refresher course. I think I'm at the graduate level courses by now.

I remember a quote that said, "Patience with others is love. Patience with self is hope. Patience with God is faith." If that's the case, pile it on, Lord! Give me patience.

Our Only Hope

We were given some sad news today. Dean's brother was killed in a truck and trailer accident near Salt Lake City, where he hauled hay and spuds back and forth to Idaho. He is the first of our siblings for us to lose, only 62 years old, and it just seems surreal. It just doesn't seem fair when you don't have a chance to say good-bye. Since we lived so many miles apart and didn't have daily communication with him, the loss will be easier for us. But I know his wife is going to need an enormous amount of strength in the days ahead.

The main comfort we have is that we shared the same faith in God. And because of this we have high hopes that we will see him someday in heaven. "Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed...at the last trump..." I Cor. 15 Even so, come, Lord Jesus!

My Appreciation List

I feel a need tonight to tell the world what I appreciate about my husband. His faith in God's care is strong. He finds it easy to witness about God to others and often does. He loves going to church. He likes to read, especially anything religious. He finds it easy to forgive, and not hesitant to ask for forgiveness. He often tells me he loves me and appreciates all I do as his caregiver. He knows his weaknesses and tries to stay humble. He doesn't complain about his limitations (and with dementia, they seem to be growing every day).

There are many more qualities I could mention, but there were events in our day that caused me to go to "my appreciation list" which I have had for almost a year now. He is still all these things, thank God. And I just pray that whatever is in our future, I can look on this day and many others with pride in who my husband is and was.

He may be losing his memory, but I pray to hold on to my remembrances of good times for the both of us.

Penguin Confetti

This evening I was with my three-year-old granddaughter and we worked on a small paper project--coloring the parts of a penguin, cutting them out, and pasting them together. After some attempts at coloring, I gave her a pair of safety scissors and she began cutting away. She repeatedly refused my offer to help cut, even though her penguin soon began to take the shape of, well...confetti.

Throughout the time we spent on our little "craft", I kept telling myself that the end product was not as important as the fun and skill acquired by the process used to get there. In other words, our adult definition of success (having a wonderful product to show for our effort) may not be the same for someone younger (the thrill of discovery and learning through the experience).

How does God measure success? Well, I know He doesn't measure our love by how much we love our friends, but by how much we love our enemies. And He doesn't measure our faith by how we trust Him when things are going wonderfully in our lives, but by how much we trust Him when trials and suffering are all around us. How much love and faith will God find in your life? Are you ready for HIS measure of success?