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.

This Hope

For quite awhile this evening I've been trying to think of something of note to report in my blog. And then the most notable news ever came to me. Sunday as I was making my monthly routine calls to remind people of our brain injury support group that meets this Tuesday, one of our friends from the group sadly told me that her husband had passed away a week ago.

As I'm casually hoping to recall something noteworthy in my life, a fellow caregiver/survivor has had her world turned upside down this past week. He was such a caring man too, who came to all our meetings with his wife. She had a brain injury many years ago in an auto accident. The support group will never be the same without his quiet, cheerful, smiling presence. He will be sorely missed by all of us in the group.

Life is so fragile. And so is our grief. Grief is personal, it's diverse, and it's never going to go away so long as we're on this sinful planet. But someday, God promises to take away the sting of death. No more will we feel its bite. No more will we have to say good-bye.

"And God shall wipe all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." Revelation 21:4

Where would we be without this hope?

A Big Change

Dean really has to be improving for me to take him where we went this afternoon. It was an Alzheimer's support group that meets socially at a small cafe near our house every month to have pie and just share each others' company. It was the first time we have attended, and those "first times" are always hardest for me, it seems.  Consequently, I have put it off for months now, simply because I wasn't sure if Dean would fit in, would stay awake, or would become frustrated with...well, almost anything.

But Dean did wonderfully well in interacting with the small group, all seated about two big tables, pushed together for the dozen or so of us. We were about half and half caregivers and those with dementia, so it was a perfect mix for some lively conversation and some excellent pie. Dean and I shared a sour cream raisin slice.

And Dean, of course, held up his end of the conversation well. The storyteller in him was rejoicing with his fresh audience, and it was clear to see that Dean was in his element, telling about heating our home exclusively with a wood stove (which we did in the 70s), and about his brother, a mason by trade, refusing to finish the fireplace in his own home, because the tax auditor told him a finished fireplace would increase their taxes too much. Yep, these brothers were definitely cut from the same cloth.

What gave me the courage to venture out with Dean today was a comment, relayed to me by the director of his adult day program. One of the staff there, who has known him the longest, made the statement that she sees the "old Dean" back. That was so comforting to hear. Up until that point, I felt like the only one noticing the change since we cut off one of his medicines, but it was great to hear it confirmed.

I'm really looking forward to the day when I really have the "old Dean" back. The one before his tractor accident, the one before sin entered his life, the one that he will have for eternity. "...for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed." I Corinthians 15:52

Snow in the Morning

My life has slowed down considerably, as far as outside-the-home activities, since Dean's recent weight, sleep, and drug issues. To compound our isolated status, a blizzard is in the forecast for tonight. Everyone is making their final trips to the store, gearing up for the snow we've all been waiting for and dreading at the same time. The beauty of seeing new snow on the ground in the morning will make staying home worth it for awhile at least.

I look forward to another beautiful sight too. Seeing my loved ones on Resurrection Morning. Today, half out of boredom, I moved a bookcase from the living room into my bedroom. On it were pictures and mementos of my dear, departed parents. The caregiving for them was also marked with boredom and isolation--that time in their hospital room.

I'm tired of being isolated from loved ones, but especially from my Jesus. That will be the sweetest sight of all on Resurrection Morning. Jesus coming in the clouds to bring us all home with Him. And what a glorious, heavenly home that will be.

Minnie at her watchdog post--foot of my bed! She's such good company too!

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!

Joy in the Morning

I went to the doctor about my swollen, bruised foot today, and sure enough it has not been healing very well. Besides that, the doctor was concerned that where I'm experiencing pain isn't where they are seeing a fracture on the X-ray. So he sent me for a CT-scan and tomorrow I will see a foot specialist. Besides he wants me to stop taking Ibuprofen and try Tylenol instead. All in all, it was a depressing day. And I am not looking forward to the night.

Psalms 30:5 says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." How true that is. The birds must know it. Since we've been having spring weather, I've been hearing birds singing very early, at the crack of dawn really. I too look forward to morning. Somehow things just look brighter in the sunshine.

Then there's the resurrection morning. Nothing will compare to the joy on that great morning. There's an event where all Creation will be singing! I want to be part of the chorus, don't you?

Change, For Better or Worse

I would like to write about a theme tonight that covers alot of the heart burdens I'm carrying around lately. That theme would be change. The changes that life brings that require no major decisions on our part, but the ones that are just handed to us without any preparation, training, or choice. The changes we're not sure we are capable of surviving.

Here are my current thoughts about change. My brother's family is seeking change in their job and financial situation. My sister's family is resisting change in their job and financial situation. The former wants life to get better; the latter wants to hold onto life as it is, so it doesn't get worse. Many other families can identify with these concerns about change.

Then there's the change with my husband's dementia. I'm not seeking it, of course. But I also know it's useless to resist it. My only concern is how to survive it. It's beginning to impact some major areas of our life.

The only thing that allows me to deal with these changes is how gracefully Dean is taking them. I know the Lord has to take major credit for that. Dean has always been a man of prayer. I compare him to David, who was said to have been a man after God's own heart, despite his tendency to fall away from Him at times. Dean has grown very close to God since his tractor accident, which gives me the most peace that any changes in the future will be God-ordained.

This also brings me to the conclusion that change isn't the real issue. It's how we relate to the change by constantly trusting God with the outcome. May His will be done. And after all, in the end the only change that will really matter is the one that will happen in the twinkling of an eye at the grand resurrection at Jesus' Second Coming. I Corinthians 15:51-52 Now there's a change I'm looking forward to.

Funerals--the Beginning and End of It

I went to a funeral this afternoon of a good friend and teacher, Joanne Perrault. This was one of those sudden, surprise endings of a life, well-lived. She leaves behind a vast army of little ones she has taught over the years. I can't think of a time when I didn't see a smile on her face. She truly loved all her "cherubs", as she called them, who were in her charge. She certainly brought out the angelic side of those children with her peaceful, loving ways.

Funerals bring to our attention the fact that life has its beginning but also has an end. And yet for those who love God supremely, the end is really a beginning too. Joanne's next conscious moment will be of meeting her Savior at His return to this planet and beginning eternal life with Him and all her cherubs.

Sad as funerals are, I think I'll keep attending them. For the simple reason that God is there, dispensing comfort and love to all who don't refuse it. After my parents' deaths a year ago now, it seems that I've been attending alot of funerals. I think God knows I need them. Who has enough comfort?

Maranatha, Come Quickly, Jesus!

This day, one year ago, was bittersweet for me in so many ways, but I try to think of the sweetness of it only. My father got out of the hospital, which he was getting tired of after almost a month. He hated hospitals and doctors, so nothing was sweeter to him than to enter his house once more. His little dog was there to greet him, and he had two daughters to wait on him hand and foot. We fixed his favorite foods for supper, and got him settled in bed. He was so overjoyed to be there and, snuggled up with his little dog for the night.

It turned out to be his last night at home though. That night he went to sleep in Jesus. It was the end he would have wanted. He was ready to leave this world, as it had truly lost all luster after losing our mother just three months earlier. Their passing has left a big hole in our lives, but the things they taught us and the memories we still cherish are able to somewhat fill the gap. The children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren live on to remind us that their lives did have meaning.

We look forward to the Resurrection Morning when all who love and follow Jesus will be raised to meet Him in the sky at His Second Coming. I have no doubt that my parents are both "resting in peace" and we will have a grand family reunion someday. Maranatha, come quickly, Lord Jesus!