Stunned on a Monday

Mondays are always busy, but yesterday's Monday really kept me hopping. It was the day before our monthly brain injury support group meeting, and I have the pleasure of making reminder phone calls to those who come to the group. So phone conversations were interspersed all day with housekeeping chores and family matters.

I was down to the last person to call though, so things were looking pretty bright for a relaxing evening at least. But then came the shock.

The spouse, a caregiver wife about my age, told me, as gently as she could, that her husband had passed away a week ago from a virus. I was stunned to hear of it. Just stunned. They had been coming to our meetings for about a year. We've lost several people over the years, but who would have thought it would be Fred? He seemed so healthy and vibrant, despite the cognitive and emotional challenges he'd faced since his brain injury. I just grieved so much for this wife who'd already been through so much.

We caregivers can't wait for our caregiving to end sometimes. But when you stop and think what that end will actually entail, it doesn't look so inviting after all. I complain about my hard life with Dean, but life without him seems pretty bleak too.

I, and other caregivers, not only look forward to the Resurrection Morning, when Christ comes to redeem us all. We, more than anyone, look forward to our new bodies AND our new brains in those bodies. It's hard to picture. But really, it's our only hope.

The Phone Call

There was a voice message on my phone I finally saw and listened to yesterday. Dean had already given me the number to call someone back the day before, but I had no idea how much labor went into the process of getting that number.

The recorded message told it all. Dean was so slow in answering the phone that it went to voicemail and recorded their conversation. The poor phone operator was so patient with him. It took him forever to get the pen and paper to write down her number. And she had to repeat it numerous times for him to get it right. He kept reversing digits, reading it back to her wrong, and she had to correct him. It was almost comical--I kept holding back laughter while listening to it. Why she didn't just hang up and try to contact someone else, I'll never know.

It seems to me that God must have just as hard a time getting through to us sometimes. We drag our feet about answering His call, about getting the message, and even mess up getting it right. But He's a patient operator. He wants us to succeed, no matter how sin has disabled us. I hope I can be a better listener from here on out.

Spinning Tires

As always, with the first, fresh snow on our streets, I joined the many cars today who found themselves spinning their tires and not getting enough traction to make it out into the intersection after stopping. At least not with the first try. One is forced to rock back and forth, going from drive to reverse, turning the front tires different directions, in embarrassing attempts to grab onto something that allows you to move forward with the traffic.

That's kind of how my whole week has felt. The challenges of Dean's medicines, their side effects versus their benefits, getting his lift chair approved, searching the internet, playing phone tag with doctors, nurses, the pharmacist, the medical supply store, and not really getting anywhere. I feel like I just can't get any traction and get myself out of this slippery slide of caregiving.

But thankfully, tonight is the beginning of the Sabbath. A whole day designed to help me get some traction and move on with my life with a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude. When the Sabbath is done, I'll feel a sense of relief once again. Just like it felt when I finally got into the intersection today and started moving toward my destination. And it especially feels good when your destination is heaven.

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".

A Clean House...Not

Today has been a blur of household chores and dreaded phone calls, as most Mondays are. I make out the proverbial "to-do list" on Sunday, and then start digging in with all the things I want to accomplish in the coming week. Things like washing the bedding, sorting and organizing Dean's recliner "area", cleaning the bird cage, and scrubbing behind the kitchen sink. But these things are on top of the everyday, basic tasks of washing dishes, clothes, cooking meals, and emptying trash cans.

Any more, my shortness of breath never allows me to finish a "to-do list". I have learned to be content with a house that is never sparkling clean everywhere. But that has fleeting bright spots scattered about that I can be proud of and that gives it a look of orderliness that tricks you into thinking it's clean under the surface.

In a way, this mirrors my spiritual life. I will never have a complete and virtuous character that I would desire. But God has covered me with his perfect robe of righteousness. And with His touch of love, I can be perceived as having a form of Christianity that perhaps someone would wish to emulate.

How wonderful it will be to shed these mortal bodies someday and put on our glorious, immortal robes. Then I will be truly clean everywhere, even under the surface.

The "Eyes" Have It

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

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

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

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

My Caregiver Daughter

Yesterday my daughter got one of the scariest calls of her life. Meals on Wheels called and said her daddy wasn't at home. She couldn't reach us by phone, home or cell. So she loaded up her kids and hightailed it over to our house. We had just come home from the doctor's about my foot. I had no idea our appointment would keep us so long and had forgotten about Meals on Wheels, while I was getting a CT-scan on my foot. Needless to say, she was relieved to find us both alive and well.

This incident did my heart good. I often think I'm the only caregiver Dean has. But there are other family members who help with his care, and would step up to the plate, if needed.

And especially there is a God who is caregiver for both of us. I'm amazed at all the ways He provides. All it takes is a phone call/prayer and God will be right over to make sure we're alright. What a relief to us.

Strength to Serve

This week has been crazy. I've been "laid up" with a bum foot, and although I've felt pretty helpless, having to ask for things as simple as a glass of water, I've also found that I'm still able to do the really important things I enjoy doing. I've visited with someone in the hospital via telephone. I've had online conversations with friends who have cancer and who have lost loved ones. Also proofread some articles for the church newsletter. Tomorrow I'll be "attending" a board meeting via speaker phone. Thank goodness for technology.

Tonight was the ultimate activity by proxy though. It was the night for our monthly brain injury support group meeting. I was supposed to facilitate the meeting, but that was impossible because of all the stairs to climb to get to the meeting room. Instead I asked the presenter to facilitate the meeting and she said that was no problem. Then, as I normally do, I called those on my list to remind them of the meeting. It was our month to bring refreshments, so I sent my daughter to buy them. Then my husband took them, along with the name tags, the sign-in sheet, and the group guidelines we read out loud at the beginning of the meeting. It honestly felt like I was right there, even though I had to stay home.

I am so grateful to the Lord for allowing me to serve Him, even in my not-to-be-desired feeble condition. It reminds me of the verse in Joel 3:10 "...let the weak say, I am strong." Tomorrow I will complain less of my weakness and know that it can and does lead to strength.

Group Hug

Today we had two phone calls from our sister-in-law, who recently lost her husband, Dean's brother, in a tragic semi accident. She was just checking to confirm our addresses (Dean's sister too) to be able to send us some items from Dale--the obituary, the DVD of his memorial service, etc.

At the end of both calls, I could tell she was getting choked up and emotional. I'm sure talking to her husband's siblings must be very difficult at this time. I'd like to reach out and help her more, but I know there are others closer by who are able to comfort her as well. It's just hard to give a hug over phone lines. I could reassure her of our love and willingness to talk any time, but sometimes you need that physical embrace to convey the deepest sympathies.

I'm sure this is why God sent His Son to this dying world. He couldn't reach out to us with the hug He was longing to give, so He allowed Jesus to come down here and give it for Him. What love, what comfort, what hope He wanted to convey to His suffering children. Jesus came to hug us all.

A Bump in the Road

Have you ever wondered sometimes if you had a friend in the world? There was a time today when I could not get in touch with anyone by phone and needed to share a particular heartbreaking circumstance in my life. It was just very important to talk to someone out loud about the event and there was no one who seemed available or appropriate to talk with about it. I ended up crying out loud to God about it and realized that I was never without a friend, because He is always available, appropriate, and most of all, full of wisdom and comfort.

I believe God directed me to call my daughter. We don't think to call our adult children sometimes, but there's no one better acquainted with our problems than they are. And you know they already love and care for you. It was the right thing to do. Fortunately, she was available and we had a good discussion about caregiving for her dad.

Then it just happened to be the night for our brain injury support group and I was able to connect with other caregivers and tap into their wisdom and courage. So, the Lord led me through a pretty trying day and provided just the right people to help me over this little bump in the road. Because I know that after putting my whole life in perspective, that's all it will be. Just a little speed bump to slow me down and make me take notice once again of all my support, especially from the throne room of God where in desperation I directed an urgent call for help.

Phone Peeves

They say Monday is a bad day to make business calls because phone lines are particularly busy that day. Unfortunately with all weekend to think about them, by Monday I usually have a list as long as my arm of calls that need to be made. I've tried spreading them out during the week. But no, since I detest it so much, I force myself to get it all done and over with on Monday (probably the cause of all the busy lines).

My phone peeves include trying to decipher foreign accents (don't they know only Midwestern Americans really know English?), menus so long and complicated you need an advanced college degree to understand them, and then there's the "hold" status which make me feel like I'm a plane hovering over an airport waiting to land. Not too bad, if you can stop thinking of running out of fuel, which in this case, is more like patience. People get ugly when they run out of patience, and no one wants to sacrifice their good looks on a petty business call.

I'm so glad for another phone line we have access to every day of the week. It's called prayer. There's no worry about understanding each other. The Holy Spirit is our heavenly translator. And menus aren't even necessary because we have instant access to the party needed. Besides that, we are never on "hold". And here's the real icing on the cake. Instead of an ugliness risk, we actually become more beautiful the longer we're on the line to divinity. Make your call today--God's company is open 24/7.