Our Daily Reference

We finally got a piece of mail today that I'd been looking for. For the past week or so, Dean's "meals on wheels" just didn't match up with the printed menu that they provided us a while back. I finally noticed that the menu was for Spring and Summer, so realized that we must already be getting Fall and Winter meals. We like to see what food is coming, and sadly, also sometimes need the food identified once it's here. So that menu in the mail was a welcome piece of information that promptly got posted in a prominent place.

Our lives change too, just like the seasons. We wonder why things that happen to us just don't match up with what should be happening at the time (why a marriage failed). Or why our feelings about events are so different than they used to be (consider the mind of a new parent). How we experience our relationships and respond to challenges in life are suddenly unrecognizable in us (as often happens to a caregiver), and we may flounder for a time in curious wonderment and question what life is all about.

Seasons are many. But the one thing that doesn't change is our need for a menu. And I can't think of a better menu for life than our Bibles. In it are examples to guide the young into making healthy choices, words of wisdom for adults to show them how to render loving service to God and others, and comfort and peace for the failing hearts of seniors. Yes, the Bible is one "menu" we should post prominently in our homes and use for daily reference. And it never changes with the seasons.

About to Scream

This has to be almost the first time I have titled my post before writing it, but I just had to get "about to scream" off my chest. The feeling is overwhelmingly accurate, but I'm sure it will pass here soon.

I was just called into the living room for the second time this morning. The first time it was Dean announcing that he had spilled a whole plate of scrambled eggs on the floor next to his brand new lift recliner. I reminded him once again as I cleaned it up that is why I ask him to sit at the table to eat. (Keep in mind that he spilled a cup of root beer INTO the chair just yesterday.)

I turn my back and he goes into the kitchen and scrambles another egg, and I find him once again in the recliner to eat it. This on the back of his refusal to go to his adult day program again, even though he is awake and dressed and could conceivably go this time.

Maybe I should have titled this post "Once Again". How frustrating it must be for God to have His children disobey Him repeatedly. I have to consider the patience of God with all of us, or I would not have an ounce of patience myself to handle these events.

But I also consider the problems my brothers and sisters all over the world are struggling with. They make mine seem like nothing. So, as I put all this in perspective, I guess I don't have it so bad. What's a little scrambled egg on your carpet? Who's more important, my carpet or my husband? I told you the feeling would pass.

A Way of Escape

A few years back one of Dean's annoying behaviors was his taking that little sticker that comes on fruit and putting it on the toaster, microwave, or other place around the kitchen when I wasn't looking. By the time I noticed where it was, it usually required scraping to get the offending sticker off. I repeatedly asked him not to do it, but to no avail.

Then one day it hit me that all I had to do was remove and trash the stickers myself, while I was unloading groceries and putting them away. It was so simple. For years, I have been practicing changing Dean's environment, rather than changing Dean himself. This is one of the first lessons for family members of people with brain injury or dementia, but I had failed to apply it in this simplest of problems.

Lately, another problem has presented itself. Dean loves to feed the dog at the table, dropping her choice bits of the food off his own plate. She has put on a few pounds now and I know it's not good for her teeth, but I just can't convince him not to do it. Then I got smart and lately I've been putting the dog in a bedroom by herself while Dean's eating at the table. That will cut down on most of his "sharing" at least.

Both of these examples illustrate good strategies for resisting temptation of any kind. Removing yourself from the temptation or removing the temptation from you would work in most cases, but we fail to think of it in time. That's where prayer comes in. Ask God how to extricate yourself from the tempting situation. He says He will provide a way of escape. And that's exactly how it's done. Simple stuff and effective. But often we go years without thinking of a way to practice it.

Caregiving Etiquette

Finally Dean got to use his Burger King gift card he got for Christmas. We went there for supper today and ate in the BK dining room. Not just drive-thru for this fast-food special occasion. It was a good time to be there, just before the supper rush, and it appeared we were the only customers for awhile at least.

We made our food choices, and Dean was trying to count out the exact change from a handful of coins in his hand. He was starting to get a bit frustrated with the effort it was taking. So I appealed to him to let me get the coins for the cashier, since there were now people behind us waiting in line. He relented and we then proceeded to find a table with our food.

Dean, of course, had his usual large Coke under control, I thought, until he set it down by the tray of food on the table and then knocked it over with his hand, spilling most of the contents, on the table, on the chair, on the floor, and on himself.

With a bit of embarrassment I informed the cashier that we had a rather major mishap, involving Coke spillage at our table. He was so polite and understanding about taking care of it. I hoped it wasn't just an outward showing of customer service etiquette he was forced to adhere to, but that it was evidence of a sincere compassion on two senior citizens, who were just doing the best they could.

I hope I can exemplify this in my life as well. I pray that my patient and loving behavior doesn't become just an outward showing of caregiving etiquette that I'm forced to adhere to, but that it stems from an overflow of loving patience that my heavenly Father has exhibited toward me, and continues to show each and every day of my life.

Our Most Holy Brain

Two days ago after Dean's bath aide and nurse left the house, he questioned his memory by asking me if that was his nurse Carol who just left. I gently corrected him with Carla's name. He has had Carla come to the house every week for over a year now and still has trouble remembering her name before, during, and after her visits.

Imagine my surprise and shock when Dean left the doctor's office yesterday by shaking hands and saying "Good-bye, Cori" to the young man who was shadowing his doctor. They had just been introduced once at the beginning of our session. Was it a "white-coat" syndrome? Or just a fluke? I had to smile.

With Dean's array of symptoms lately, mostly involving sleep, appetite, and memory, he's proving to be quite the medical challenge for his doctors. As a matter of fact, the psychiatrist yesterday said he wants to research the medicines out there for what would be best for Dean.

The doctor did ask if it was possible to manage his diet better. I almost laughed. My full-time occupation is managing his diet. We mostly try to have regular, healthy meals, but Dean is just hungry all the time. I mean literally all the time. And with his memory getting worse, he asks for another meal, almost as soon as he's up from the table. I have been welcoming the end of the month when our cupboards are almost bare. At least then I can honestly say, there's nothing to eat.

And then there's his sleep habits lately. I would have thought that going to his day program yesterday and staying awake all day would have meant a good night's sleep and getting back to a healthy day and night pattern of sleep. But here he is sleeping the day away again. Barely staying awake long enough to eat his meals. One day I tried three times when his Meal on Wheels arrived to get him up to eat at noon. If he's maintaining his weight, we can thank his new sleep habits. Except he's missing out on exercise through inactivity too, so muscle weakness is also a concern.

I'm not sure what the doctors can do, if anything, to fix these medical problems for Dean. Our bodies, as we age, are deteriorating. There's no stopping the natural process of life and death.

But Dean illustrates to me just how important our brain is to our overall health. If our bodies are considered the temple of God, then surely the brain must be the Most Holy Place in that temple. We communicate to God through our thoughts, our brains. He resides there as surely as His glory shone above the ark of the covenant. Today and each day, I must be careful not to defile it.

Our Old Man

What a nice Christmas Eve dinner we had with family last night. I actually added two leafs and brought the dining room table into the living room, so we could all sit at the table to eat for a change. Was worried that the encroachment on Dean's living space might upset him, but since it came with the hope of some good eating, he was fine with it.

Then the star family members were two hours late in getting here. Another worry that Dean might not be able to handle the frustration that brought. But once again, I fed him tidbits and promised much more just as soon as they arrived, so he stayed remarkably cool about the delay.

In setting the table, I made sure that no bowls that people needed help dishing up were in front of Dean. I was going to give him a fork like the rest of us from the set, but then thought I better ask him and sure enough he required his own special fork, which I hastily switched out for him. I set him on the end of the table with ample room to maneuver around his chair. Then I made sure that salt and butter were placed at both ends of the table, right near Dean's place setting, to forestall any discord about passing them.

Surprisingly, he asked for black pepper though, which we hastily got from the kitchen for him. When he was done seasoning, his plate resembled one big deviled egg. He choked on the first bite of "black" mashed potatoes, but to our amazement managed to devour all the food on his plate.

Opening gifts later was a cinch. There were just enough chocolates and candy gifts for Dean to open to keep him happily satisfied. We all tried to oblige him when he offered us chocolate covered cherries, as stuffed as we were. Just to prevent him from eating the whole box himself. At least we prevented a few of the pieces from getting to their victim.

From the sounds of my report, this whole event revolved around one old man. But maybe there's something instructive and symbolic about our family's involvement in taking care of this old man of ours. Christmas is about a Baby, but it's also about the Man we call our God. Shouldn't all our activities focus on Him too?

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".

Sleepless Days and Sleepless Nights

Another sleepless night for Dean, even though we doubled one of his antidepressants. I have hidden or disguised as many foods in my kitchen as I can to prevent his foraging them in the middle of the night. So far, we have said good-bye to a box of chocolate-covered cherries, a pizza, and a gallon of ice cream. Nothing is safe from his nightly kitchen raids.

Not sure how we will address all of this, but I'm sure the doctors will get it figured out here before long. Thankfully, Dean's sleeplessness hasn't transferred to more grumpiness during the day. He has been able to doze a lot in his recliner.

I often have wondered whether it's right to keep Dean on so many medications, especially when they will undoubtedly end up shortening his life. But extraordinary conditions sometimes demand extraordinary solutions. And this is confirmed to me whenever we have to tweak his drugs, in order to tweak his behaviors. He is much more manageable to us and happy with himself with his pills.

It's a blur to me what behaviors are brain-injury/dementia-induced, and which ones are due to the powerful psychiatric medicines though. But regardless, I'm glad we have a good geriatric psychiatrist on his case. And our efforts are allowing Dean to have the best quality of life he could have for someone who had a tractor run over his head twelve years ago.

I recently found added confirmation to our treatment plan. This article suggests that many dementia patients can benefit from antipsychotic drugs. Hooray. I feel exonerated.

http://www.comebackearlytoday.com/antipsychotics-dementia-patients-extremely-severe-symptoms-2/

Pill Plethora

Dean's medicine regimen has become somewhat of a nightmare lately. We saw his psychiatrist a few days ago and he is concerned about Dean's weight gain recently. Honestly, I'm getting tired of re-attaching his suspenders which keep popping off. Since we know which medicine is most to blame for his added girth, he thinks it wise to wean him off of it and try something else.

Unfortunately, this has been very upsetting to his sleep schedule. The second night he was up about every hour or so. Without medicines, Dean would never sleep, due to his brain injury, so in addition to decreasing his agitation and impulsiveness during the day, some of the medicines are there just to allow him to sleep at night.

But then we got a call from the home health nurse saying that due to his increased blood pressure readings this month, his primary care doctor wants to increase the blood pressure medicine he's currently taking. This is really throwing a monkey wrench in everything, because the blood pressure medicine can cause weight gain too, and even memory loss and disorientation. Do we really want him to have more of that?

So I am really waiting to hear what both doctors decide. I give them my input, but know that they will probably have the final word on what we end up doing. There are many options and I am just here to make sure they look at all of them.

In a way we have the final word on our salvation. God can present me with all the options, but it is up to me to decide my eternal destiny. Wow, it feels good to be on par with the doctors for once.

Food Hide-and-seek

I have become an expert at food hide-and-seek lately. With Thanksgiving last week and Dean's birthday celebration this past weekend, there are sweet treats hidden all over my house. I have to hide them from Dean, and I'm sure he's been hiding them from me so I don't hide them from him.

As a matter of fact, there is a can of mixed nuts in such a good hiding place that neither of us will find them for quite awhile. Dean, because he doesn't remember that he has them, and me, because I can't remember where I put them. They must be in a very secure location. Either that, or Dean has found them and finished them off. Like he did with the box of chocolate-covered cherries the other day.

This impulsivity or lack of self-control is a typical symptom of someone who is brain-injured or has dementia. It has resulted in some weight gain for Dean lately, as you might imagine. I even threatened to send him to a "fat farm" today, when he was complaining about my tight restraints on the food pantry. But probably we'll just end up readjusting his medicines at some point.

Do I complain about God's restraints sometimes too? I'm sure I do. It seems like He's hiding all the good things in my life in very secure locations, and leaving me without any of the luxuries that make life sweet. I must stop complaining and remember that God is doing it all for my best eternal interest. He's a caregiver I can really trust.

Kisses

This has been a super busy day for me. Rushing around getting ready for Dean's birthday party tomorrow afternoon. He was at his adult day program and that allowed me to get much more done. Keep in mind that with my shortness of breath, it takes me twice as long to do half as much. So I am just now winding down as the Sabbath hours begin.

One of the things I did today was bake some macaroon cookies, which have always been Dean's favorite. I saw a recipe in a magazine that had little Hershey's kisses in the center of them and it looked much easier than my own recipe, so thought I'd give them a try.

Dean was ravenously hungry when he came home, so I gave him a few of the coconut cookies that didn't look the best. Later, I was disappointed to find the little trash can by his recliner full of coconut that he had spit out. He said he couldn't chew them. Oh, great, I make coconut cookies and now discover that he can't chew coconut with his eight remaining teeth. I guess he can just enjoy the Hershey's kisses that were left over. At least they will melt in his mouth. But it just won't be the same.

God created a beautiful world for His children, including me. How disappointed He must have been when Adam and Eve had to leave the Garden because of sin. There is still a glorious creation of natural beauty to enjoy. But it just isn't the same. Sabbath is a great reminder of our Paradise lost and our Paradise regained. For now, we'll settle for a kiss from God, but later on we'll get the "whole cookie".

They really are tasty, if you like coconut!

Showing Your Thanks

I'm amazed and grateful for what different families bring to the Thanksgiving table and to the event itself. We are all brought up having holidays a certain way, but then we get married and find ourselves shocked that not everyone celebrates the same way.

For instance, when I was first married, I found out that not everyone had homemade noodles and ambrosia on their meal menu. But it was also a shock to discover how much more taste is packed into sweet potatoes, when they don't come out of a can. And the same for cranberries. I found out how easily you could make your own whole berry sauce and how actually divine it would taste with a small dollop of real whipped cream. These additions came from Dean's family, where we spent most of our holidays in the first years of our marriage.

Now that our daughter is married and we have been attending their larger festivities, I am learning other wonderful things about Thanksgiving. As much as a linen tablecloth, your best dishes, and even cloth napkins make it a special feast, the food tastes just as good, no matter what it's served on. As a matter of fact, it's rather nice to have the attention drawn to the people sitting at the table, rather than the table itself.

I can see from these observations that our church family will grow and get better, when we all bring our best to the table too and learn and adapt new and better ways to serve God. Let's keep that in mind as we approach His throne with thanksgiving this season. Show God your thanks by your offerings of service to Him.

whipped cream, cranberries sauce, and fruit salad (what a delicious combination!)

Remembering Me

We had a super good time with in-laws tonight. The Thanksgiving food was great and the visiting was lively. We met in a different venue--the community room of my daughter's apartment complex. So, the setup was a bit complex with multiple trips to transport food and other items.

As often happens, we vastly overestimated how much we would eat, so several families went home with leftovers. But that's alright. You kind of expect that with holiday meals. It just seemed more daunting, because of the work of transporting the food all over again.

I usually find myself taking pictures at family events like this, and consequently I am seldom in any of the shots, which is kind of nice, as I don't feel I'm very photogenic anyway. But today my husband asked to take a picture of me when my two granddaughters were sitting on my lap. It was just the kind of shot I would love to have, so I got up, went clear across the room and gave him the camera to get our picture. It didn't come out the best, but I was grateful for Dean, thinking of me not being in any of the pictures.

For a man with dementia, he remembers me. And I'm thankful for that.

That's me and the two girls, clear across the room. He just took it from his comfortable spot on the couch.

Focus on the Volunteers

For three days this week there is a Center for People in Need in our community that dispenses holiday food and goods to needy families. I went there today to see what kind of holiday cheer they could offer two old, disabled seniors on a pencil-thin budget. Fiscal difficulties are definitely one of the major problems reported by caregivers. This one included.

The first thing you notice, as you drive into the parking lot, is how many hundreds of low-income people are looking for something special to offer their families this Thanksgiving and Christmas. The parking spaces were filling up fast, and the place was overflowing with vehicles. Then, the lines of people inside and the waiting required because of the streams of people pouring in convinced me that there are more low-income people than I had realized in our town.

I didn't just notice the people there getting things though. There were also many smiling volunteers, who were valiantly and tirelessly distributing the items. I tried to focus on them, because it's so easy to become judgmental when you are sitting there "people-watching" in a place like that.

I was tempted to think that some of the "needies" there certainly didn't appear to be lacking in material goods. Take that young mother with the expensive looking cell phone, whose child was in an obviously top-of-the-line stroller. But you know, she may have downgraded from her internet connection at home and is reduced to the cell-phone kind only now. And I've seen nice strollers at garage sales too, so I suppose I can overlook that expenditure too. Personally knowing a young mother who fits this description exactly helped me overcome my temporary lapse into judgmentalism.

From now on, I'll definitely focus on the volunteers instead. ;-)

Unused Gifts

I was dreading this  morning's dentist visit with Dean. The receptionist called me last week and said, after talking with the university dentists that his regular dentist would like Dean and I to come in for a consultation about his teeth. She said it appeared he may have to have his lower teeth pulled.

I mentally gasped at this possibility, since Dean only has eight bottom teeth left in his whole mouth. His main pleasure in living is to eat. How he is able to gum his food enough with no teeth on top is beyond me already. And with no teeth at all, I was picturing crock pot soups being on our menu almost every day and having to cook the life out of our vegetables even more than I already am, so he can chew them easier.

Thankfully, the outlook was modified some after speaking with the dentist herself today. They were only going to take out two teeth for now and provide him with a partial to take their place. Dean was not entirely satisfied with this prospect either, but he seems at least to have accepted his fate and agree to the procedure.

He didn't promise he'd wear the partial though. I could have predicted that. We have two sets of dentures at home somewhere collecting dust, because he refuses to wear them. And they are keeping company with state-of-the-art hearing aids on his dresser and two leg braces in the closet, just waiting for the man they were fitted for to wear them. Change is not his friend. I give the partial only partial odds, maybe 20% or so, of being in his mouth more than twice.

I wonder how many of God's gifts I have just laying around, waiting for me to use them. Are they becoming dust magnets, while I struggle along with my infirmities, ignoring the fact that help is practically at my fingertips? God's blessings and gifts are right under my nose. I just have to decide to use them. I rather think the change they would bring to my life would be of the positive variety. The odds are good for that. Like 100%.

Donut Overdose

One of our church pastors visited us today. It was so special that he remembered Dean's request of some donuts the last time he was here. The last time he was here he was telling us about his wife's cake decorating class and said he'd bring some cake the next time he came. But Dean let him know that he was especially fond of fresh glazed donuts. So that's what he brought today--some cake, but also some donuts. There were six of them, boxed up neatly, straight from the bakery. They looked and smelled so delicious. A very special treat for us.

As you guessed, Dean proceeded to eat four of them while we sat and visited. It was a good thing he only brought half a dozen, instead of a dozen. After the pastor left, I talked Dean into giving me half of the next donut to prevent him from having five in a row. And I quickly ate the last one too, just to remove the temptation.

I'm thankful for a God who hears my requests too, no matter how silly, or inconsequential, they may be. God wants to please us. We just have to look at the beautiful and fantastic world He created for our enjoyment to know that. Help me, Lord, to use your gifts as you intended.

(I doubt the pastor intended for Dean to overdose on donuts today. But not to worry. I think his stomach is made of iron.)

Dean, the Talker

Tonight Dean and I went to a potluck supper, hosted by the Alzheimer's Association local chapters. There was an assortment of persons, caregivers, staff and volunteers, and those with dementia or Alzheimer's there, but I was nervous about taking Dean to a group that I was unfamiliar with. Taking him somewhere and not knowing the size of the crowd, the location of the church, or where the dinner would be held was an act of real bravery on my part, I must say.

I had an idea that Dean would probably refuse to put his Levis and street shoes on for the event, so he came in lounge pants, bedroom slippers, and  the T-shirt/bib, he'd been sporting all day. The "Elmer Fudd" style hat and plaid flannel shirt he's worn all week completed his ensemble.

I knew I'd have to draw some attention from his outfit, so I chose to wear my very bright red dressy blouse with shiny sequins. I've gotten compliments on it, so knew it was an attention-getter too. Besides, no sense in him getting all the limelight.

There were people our age and older, seated at some of the tables when we arrived. But Dean chose to sit at the table of the youngest-looking people there. The oldest turned out to be 26. Yes, before long Dean had asked them each their names and ages, if they were related, what they knew about Alzheimer's, if they drove, had boyfriends-girlfriends, what their dad did, and how many siblings they had. He continued to keep them entertained the whole evening. He kept trying to remember their names and guess their ages. Causing a chuckle at each failed attempt.

I was pleased that it was going so well, because the girls told us that their mother had passed away with Alzheimer's just last December. I hope Dean brought some sunshine into the evening for them. Dean's presence surely gave them some comic relief, in what must be a difficult stage of their lives, missing their mom.

Dean worries about not having a ministry, not realizing that he ministers every day to everyone he meets.

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

Salting the Table

I was noticing tonight at supper how fast condiments have been disappearing in our house. After seeing how much soy sauce Dean poured on his rice and stir-fry vegetables, it wasn't hard to know who the culprit is. He saturates almost all his food with Tabasco, Frank's Red Hot Sauce, ketchup, or steak sauce. Either that or he salts and peppers it to death.

I don't know if he really intends to get that much flavorings and seasonings on his food. Maybe he's just slow about knowing when to stop pouring, or he doesn't see well enough to know when he's got enough on the food. I have noticed that the whole dining room table looks like it's been salted when he's done. But the main reason seems to be that he wants his food to taste the way he's trying to season it.

In the same vein, we can think of all kinds of reasons why we sin. But the main reason is most likely that we just want to. We like the pleasure it gives us. Let's not forget the price we pay for that pleasure though. Someone is paying for our indulgences, just like I'm having to buy more condiments and clean the whole table of spilled salt. And ultimately Dean will pay with loss of health. But more importantly, he's losing out on the real taste of the food. Life is just so much better, without our attempts to spice it up on our own.

Scrambled Eggs on the Floor

I was getting ready for church this morning when Dean asked me what I was fixing him for breakfast. When I said steel-cut oatmeal (which just needed heated up), he said he wanted to fix himself some scrambled eggs instead. Knowing I wouldn't be leaving for a little while, I said for him to go ahead then and do the eggs himself.

That's when disaster struck. As he was taking the eggs out of the refrigerator, the carton, almost full of eggs, made a nosedive out of his hands and onto the floor. What a mess! I don't know what he would have done, if I hadn't been there to clean up the gooey remains. I managed to salvage five or six cracked eggs, which I broke into a frying pan for him to start scrambling for us both to eat. Then I threw out or mopped up the rest of the eggs.

He felt bad enough already, so I refrained from yelling at him for his carelessness. (Wish I had that much patience when I was a young mother.) But then Dean, halfway serious, told me it was really MY fault, since I had told him to fix his own breakfast.

When trials come, do I tend to point my finger at God, even a little too? Even though God has given me freedom to choose, and all the basic necessities of life, I still want to throw the blame onto Him, because He's supposed to be in charge. I hope I can remember that it's our loving, patient God, after all, who cleans up the messes I've pretty much made on my own. Even the accidental ones.