When the Bough Breaks...

Friday an amazing thing happened. A large tree branch fell down and landed on our driveway, just inches from the tail end of our car. There was no wind involved, no lightning or thunderstorm in sight. It was sunny and nice outside. But there it was. Taking up half our front yard, after a neighbor helped Dean drag it off the driveway. The branch didn't appear rotten or dying at all. It was the strangest thing!

I called the man who mows our lawn, hoping he'd have some ideas on how to remove this "tree" from our yard. Larry said he'd see to it and not to worry. He needed to buy another chain saw anyway and would be by in a day or two to take care of it.

Today he came and I finally knew the reason God let this branch fall. Dean went out to see Larry and his new chain saw when he came by to cut up the huge "tree". After a time, I looked out the window and saw Dean bending over cutting on the tree with Larry's new saw!

I grabbed my camera and caught Dean using the chain saw. Even though it was much smaller than the one he was used to, I know it must have brought back a lot of pleasant memories for Dean when he logged in Montana and Idaho. I overheard him telling some of his logging stories to Larry as they worked.

I marveled at my wonderful God, who cares enough about one old man to let a tree branch fall, simply to allow him the joy of reliving some of his past.

Glad no one was hurt! It was a BIG one!!!

Dean using a chain saw--WOW!

Special thanks to Larry for a job well-done, and going beyond the call of duty!

Reputations

Dean's sister Lynn and brother-in-law John came for a visit today. They live in another state and we seldom get to see each other. His family was having a big family reunion in town, but we had our own little one right here in our cozy living room this morning--a much better place for Dean to be able to reconnect with his only sis.

Lynn helped me identify and mark some of their family photos, a task I hadn't even asked Dean to tackle. It surprised me how his sister could get stories out of him that I hadn't heard before though. As it often happens with dementia, his long-term memory is still pretty intact. I had hesitated to have him help me on his own simply because I know how frustrated he gets with such activities.

There was one relative she was telling us about who I was really interested in--perhaps because of my own breathing and oxygen problems. Dean's grandpa on his father's side was reportedly not a good provider. First of all, this was during the Great Depression. But he was nevertheless considered a good-for-nothing, and forced his grandmother to work and support their children. She later divorced him and continued to provide for her four children on her own. Then Lynn told me that he had asthma.

I instantly thought of my own great grandpa, who had asthma and an almost identical story of not working, leaving my great grandmother to support their eight children during the Depression. He was thought to be pretty worthless by the family, even to this day too.

Having experienced shortness of breath and several episodes of calling 911, I can relate to the debilitating effects of asthma, or any pulmonary problem. Keep in mind that there was no medical support of any kind back then for lung patients--no nebulizers, medicines, or inhalers. I doubt there was even portable oxygen for home use. Both of our grandfathers died at an early age, and from the sound of their stories may have suffered from mental depression as well.

This brought home to me how one's reputation can suffer unjustly and how important our understanding of disabilities is. My hope is that people now will become familiar enough with dementia, and all the other "invisible" disabilities out there, and that the memories we leave will be seen in a kinder light.

And of course, the greatest legacy of all is the life that reflects the Father's love. After all, God has a reputation to guard as well.

Dean and Lynn

 

Real Flowers for Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. I feel some guilt that I didn't go just 50 miles away to decorate my parents' graves. But knowing them as I did, they wouldn't mind too much. They would understand my reasons.

Dad always gave me a little gas money when I came to visit or to help them, so I know he would understand my lack of funds. And Mom, being blind, did not need flowers on her grave. The sounds of the birds and the wind in the trees would be enough for her enjoyment. She relied on memories and would endorse my remembrance of them, rather than my actual presence.

I felt closer to them by going through some of their belongings this weekend. Yes, there are still some boxes of paperwork from their house that needed my attention. It was nice to see these remnants of their life, even though the sorting was at times painful.

Instead of needing flowers on their grave, I have flowers in my yard that come up every year and remind me of them. Just as these perennials come up after lying dormant in the ground for winter, Mom and Dad are lying in wait for that glorious resurrection Morning when Jesus breaks through the sky and comes back to take us all home with Him.

from Mom, iris bulbs that came from her yard

we planted geraniums for the sides of the swing (their custom--as a matter of fact, it's their swing!)

Give Me Oil

I was taking a stroll down memory lane today, going through a box of photos that we were given after Dean's father passed away last year. It was so special to see these glimpses into Dean's past, because I had never seen most of them. They were buried in his parents' house somewhere. I had little idea what Dean looked like as a child, let alone as a baby.

My purpose in this activity was to have some of the photos on display when he has his birthday celebration this weekend. But the outcome for me was a melancholy feeling, as I was forced to acknowledge the changes that both Dean and I have been through over the years.

The most striking change was after his accident. Instantly, it seemed, I was married to a man far beyond his chronological years. And I, in turn, have aged much too quickly, due to the stresses of caregiving, and my own oxygen issues.

But there is some happiness in my heart when I remember that we are still the carefree little boy and girl, the shy teenagers, and the purposeful young adults that we once were. They're still inside us somewhere.

Why, just the other day Dean totally surprised me when he found himself under the hood of our car. Granted, it was just to check the oil and add a quart, before we made a short trip out of town. But to me it was noteworthy enough to get out of the car and take his picture doing it. It was so typical of him to do these kind of tasks for us before his accident.

Thank you, Lord, for these little reminders that our bodies may be failing, but You never fail us. You have given us what it takes to survive this aging planet of ours. Help us to be filled with the oil of your Spirit, so we will be ready, no matter what the exit from this world looks like for us.

Can't put on his socks, but can still add oil to a car!

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.

Dad's Desk

A much overdue "to-do list" task got completed yesterday. I totally cleaned my dad's desk area. It was surprising all the office supplies I discovered I had available. When my dad, who passed away two years ago, went to the office store, he purchased enough to last, well, for more than his lifetime.

I keep the top of his desk for mementos of my dad. So many memories came rushing back as I rearranged and dusted the items. He spent many happy hours at his desk, getting to know his computer, but more importantly, keeping in touch with friends and family. Eventually their dining room turned into his computer room, much to my mom's dismay. But she was willing to sacrifice it for the worthy cause of keeping dad happy.

No matter how hard I try, I will never think of it as anything other than "dad's desk". In my mind, it will always belong to him. And shouldn't I likewise view all my possessions as belonging to God? It makes me pause to thank God for entrusting me with so much. And that's why I try to have "mementos" of God in every room too. Pictures of Jesus or books about Him on every shelf, even a framed poem about Him in my bathroom, to remind me of the real owner. I don't want my earthly father's influence forgotten, and the same goes for God's, the Giver of it all.

Dad's corner

Fond Memories

Today is a day of importance in our family. Not only was it the day my mother died two years ago, but it's also the birthday of my niece, a grandchild my mom was especially fond of. She was her first grandchild, but she and her little brother were also the only two grandchildren that she actually lived in the same town with. Even if it was only for a couple of years when they were preschoolers many years ago. As you can imagine, she and my niece developed a special bond for each other, as over the years she would connect on the phone with her grandma for comfort and advice. To feel that amazing grandmotherly love that we all crave.

All the grandchildren experienced it at one time or another, but especially Tammie, the first. As mom slipped away from us in the hospital room that day two years ago, our first thoughts went out to Tammie. How devastated she would be to learn of this event on her birthday. But then again, how fortunate that it did happen on her day. It illustrated the closeness they had, and I pray that time will heal Tammie's wounded heart, but that she will also remember her grandma fondly each year, as perhaps none of the other grandchildren will.

For now, you still have your parents, aunts and uncles, and cousins to share your loss and remind you that your grandmother's love lives on in the rest of your family members. We are all healing together, Tammie. But thanks to your birthday, your grandmother will be remembered for generations to come.

 

my parents--what a "show" garden they had! (fond memories we share today, Tammie)

The Team

I can't help but think of my mom today. This was her birthday and birthdays were always so important to her. She would be 81 today. My dad's day was just two days before hers and I think they rather enjoyed celebrating their birthdays together. Mom usually made Dad's favorite cake. Yellow with chocolate frosting. Then she might follow with a special dessert that she liked. She made great cream puffs.

One thought I had of my mom today though was how she was able to cope with life. Of course, Jesus was her constant confidante, but she also felt comfortable sharing her burdens with her children. My sister usually had a handle on her aches and pains, from her swollen hands and feet to the pain in her eyes. Even though my sister lived hundreds of miles away, I could find out from her how mom was feeling, because I knew Mom shared that with her.

My brother was her sounding board when it came to marital matters, the many hurts and frustrations that came with living with a high-maintenance man like my dad. He gave her much needed comfort and understanding of those issues from his unique male perspective.

And finally I was there to share her frustrations with being blind those last ten years or so. I was the only one who lived close and was taking her to doctor's appointments and listening to her heartbreaking concerns of not being able to see and how much quality of life it was taking from her.

We were a family team all along and didn't recognize how our combined efforts were lightening Mom's load. But I'm sure it was. Thank you, Lord, for helping us be there for our mom. And she felt our combined presence, I'm sure, right to the end.

"A Spit and a Promise"

This day has been full of memories. It was my dad's birthday today. He would have been 83. What a coincidence that my nephew would think of washing the car today. It's my dad's car that I inherited two years ago. My parents kept it immaculately washed, waxed, and detailed numerous times a year. Often by their own sweat and muscle.

I feel close to my mom and dad whenever I use their car. They used it to drive to a local truck stop every evening to relax and socialize with friends. It was more than a vehicle for them. It was a link to the outside world. I know they were more proud of it than they were their old house.

Thank you, Jason, for reviving some memories for me today. Mom and Dad may be gone from this world, but their car lives on, as do our memories of them both. They live on in our hearts. We look forward to seeing them again on that glorious Resurrection Morning. God has promised a grand reunion for His people.

Here they are at the truck stop a few years ago...

After a good wash, it still shines!

God's Zip Code

The other day when the nurse came over to dress Dean's wounds from his little fall in the driveway, as a part of her examination she asked him what day it was. Then what his zip code was (I assume to check for a possible head injury when he fell).

He quickly gave a zip code that I vaguely remember as the one we had in Idaho, and told him so. So he gave one that I was sure was when we lived in Iowa. I barely remembered either one of them myself and was surprised that he did. The nurse gave him another chance and he slyly looked over at some mail sitting on a table by his chair.

The nurse and I exchanged glances, smiled, and she made some notes. I thought he should have at least gotten credit for thinking to check the envelope for the zip code. He may not always know the answer, but he still knows the right place to find it.

Often I need answers for problems in my life. I pray that I will first remember where I've been, and then look in the right place for the answer. There's a letter from God in several places in my house. Bibles are everywhere. I have no excuse for not knowing God's "zip code".

That Grand Reunion

It's been a year and a half since I lost both my parents to cancer. So many family milestones they've missed. Some good, some not-so-good. They both live on in our memories though. And also in the values and spiritual legacy they left for us.

I still have boxes of their papers, etc. to sort through, but just don't have the heart for it yet. Maybe someday when I'm in a real cleaning frenzy, I'll tackle it again. For now, I have two pieces of furniture that are daily reminders of their love and influence.

One, the dining room hutch, was my mom's pride and glory. It matches the table that she gave me several years ago when Dad took over her dining room and needed to set up his computer. She loved this dining room set and when I think about it, it's the first nice one she had. After forty years of marriage, you can understand her pride and joy in it. She hated to separate the set, but now they are together in my home. So, that's my reminder of Mom.

The computer desk is not an expensive one, but Dad loved his computers and the way they let him stay connected to his loved ones. It was in the only room in the house that Mom turned over to him for all his collections. I think of all the hours I spent emailing, then messaging, and finally video-chatting with Dad in his last years.

I can't bring them back, but so long as I have their memory, even without the physical reminders, I am blessed. They are resting in the grave until our grand family reunion in the sky!

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.

The King of Peace

Martin Luther King Day to most folks these days means no mail delivery, and the banks, schools, and libraries aren't open. It has meant a relatively peaceful, uneventful day for me. Thank you for that, Mr. King. Peace was your middle name, wasn't it?

I have vague memories of Martin Luther King, Jr. coming to my hometown of St. Augustine, Florida in the sixties. My dad was serving as a deputy sheriff at the time, and I remember there being some dangerous duty he was being called for, but details beyond that were not shared on the homefront. We lived ten miles out of town, so were pretty much out of the news loop. Years later, we learned that Dad was asked by the sheriff to guard Martin Luther King while he was in town. Dad seemed to think he was asked because he was the only "yankee" on the force at the time, so was the only one the sheriff trusted to do it.

Obviously, Mr. King did not have a sterling reputation among the whites of St. Augustine in those days. We were a very, very segregated town. As a matter of fact, I recall seeing very few blacks, downtown or elsewhere. I was astounded to learn of the high percentage of blacks who were living there at the time. I mostly heard that they had their own beach, that they were allowed to sit in the balcony of the only movie theater in town, and that there were black neighborhoods "somewhere," but I was not privy where. You just better not get stranded in one inadvertantly.

It wasn't until I was in high school that the schools began the integration process. And it started with just a handful of black students in the beginning. Tensions were high. I remember one time in the cafeteria there was almost a riot when some food got slung at somebody. Not exactly peaceful times. It took me years, as an adult away from the South, not to feel nervous if a black man stepped into an elevator with me. It just did not feel safe.

Today, the situation has improved, but we are still a country greatly divided. Jesus Himself said, "Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division:" Luke 12:51 We can have inner peace with Christ in our hearts, but only in the New Earth will we be able to live a truly peaceful life without division. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

http://www.crmvet.org/info/staug.htm    Here's some more information about the events in St. Augustine, if you're interested.

Toddler Moments

Yesterday was a day of high motion and emotion. My husband, daughter and two granddaughters, and I went to church in the morning and to a friend's wedding and reception in the evening. And did I mention it was 200 miles to these events? We were gone from six in the morning till 1:30 a.m. that night. There were a couple of near meltdowns toward the end by Dean and one of the OTHER toddlers with us, but nothing major.

(In the meantime my nephew and son-in-law stayed home to install a toilet for us, which turned out to be a rather disgusting affair with several trips to the hardware store. I think they planned it that way to avoid the trip with us though--those cowards!)

Curiously enough, the biggest meltdown occurred today right here at home and the main characters were my daughter and I. Could it have been the raw nerves we were running on yesterday? I think that certainly played a part in the "blowup". When we are weak, Satan comes on strong! We should take instructions from Dean on how to have these "blowups" though. He never stays mad very long. Partly because he can't remember what he was mad about in the first place.

I, for one, have put it behind me, as much as I regret losing my sanity there for a minute. And I hope my daughter forgives me as well. I'm ready to let God's grace cover our ungraceful moments. Thank you, Lord, for having short-term memory and forgiving us so graciously every time we mess up. We're all "toddlers" at times after all, aren't we?

Box of Memories

Nothing stirs up memories like long-lost photos. My husband just got a whole box of memories today from his sister. They were the prizes won for emptying out his dad's house after he passed away recently. It was such a joy to see all the photos we hadn't seen for years and many we had never seen. Once we got started, we just couldn't quit until the box was empty and the photos were somewhat sorted.

Both of us had started looking through the box on our own at different times today, but it was decided that we just had to wait till we could do it together. Aren't memories like that though, so much more enjoyable when they can be shared with someone?

Isn't this the kind of relationship God wants to have with us? One of closeness and sharing? And even if we haven't always been close to God all our lives, we can get close to Him easily. Because He shares our history, the same as our siblings and spouses. He knows all our experiences already, and He is so anxious for us to share with Him through prayer all our joyous moments, and our trials. Nothing is too personal to bring before the Lord. He longs to help you sort through your box of memories too.

Thanksgiving Memories

As I set the table from the dishes in my Mom's hutch this afternoon, I pulled out a tablecloth that had many memories attached. My nephew and I both commented on its not-so-pretty color and I immediately headed to the hall closet for one of my lace ones. The truth was I just couldn't bear eating on Mom's favorite tablecloth again. We've missed her so much this past year she's been gone.

We all have memories in store that are brought to the surface during special times like holidays. As a matter of fact, one of the things we should be thankful for on Thanksgiving IS our memories--both the past ones and the ones we are creating each day we live.

There are many folk among us who have memory loss, especially short term memory. So be glad you can remember tomorrow what you did today, or even an hour ago. Be thankful for your memories AND your memory!