My Annual Christmas Letter/Blog

Dear family and friends,

For the last thirty years, I have written a newsy family letter to accompany my Christmas cards, no matter what chaotic circumstances made up our personal lives at the time. Even after I started blogging online and discovered instant contact through social media, there's been this driving force to document the year's events in a special letter, send them out to our many friends across the country. It wasn't a chore at all, but a pleasure I actually looked forward to from year to year.

But this year, I just didn’t have the same desire to reflect and share the activities of the Thompson household. Dean, my husband, is gone (as of February 2, 2018), and no matter how I try to put a gleeful spin on that fact, it just won't come out on paper in a way that adds to the holiday joy of the season.

With his funeral now comfortingly documented on video, I have spent the rest of the year, pouring myself into blogging for Outlook magazine, carrying out various church responsibilities (including church clerk, communications secretary, and Sabbath school superintendent--it's a small church), and enjoying our two granddaughters every chance I get.

It seems odd to go on errands or to a friend's house and not feel tethered to Dean's care anymore (returning home to check on his care, either by phone or in person). But whenever I think of that freedom as a positive in my life, I also experience a twinge of guilt.

I try not to think of my new widow status as something better or worse in my life. It's just different. There was just as much satisfaction and joy in being Dean's caregiver all those years, as it is to care about other things and for other people now.

Have a merry, happy New Year...you all mean the world to me!

Love and prayers,

Teresa

Here are some photographic remembrances that comfort me, and help me wait for the grand Resurrection Morning when Jesus comes again to take us all to heaven, as He promised in John 14:1-3. "Let not your heart be troubled...I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also." Come, Lord Jesus, come!

An Unassuming Life

It's with great sadness that this holiday season embarks upon my soul. And it isn't just because Dean, my husband of 42 years, is not with us this time, presiding over the gift-opening ceremonies in his Santa hat and with his cheery ho-ho-ho's.

I am also saddened not to receive my first Christmas card of the year, which for almost all those 42 years came from a college friend of mine, Joe Branson.

Joe revealed once to me, on one of the few phone conversations I had with him, that he mailed out way over a hundred cards every year to his friends. And they usually came almost right after Thanksgiving, as if he couldn't wait for these bright, glittery greetings to grace our mailboxes and set our spirits in the holiday, gift-giving mode every year.

Here it is, almost half of December gone now, and no card from Joe. I was justifiably anxious about it after talking to another college friend of mine (Sharon Titus Harrell) and discovered she had not received her customary card either. She too was suspicious that something was not right in Joe's world.

With very little internet searching, Sharon was able to find an obituary about him in a small town newspaper, his hometown of Pulaski, Virginia.

It was not what we were hoping to find; but there he was, with a photo to verify the news. In his obituary, it was stated that he was the last surviving member of his immediate family. The comments under the obituary revealed that some of his few, remaining relatives had regrettably not even received the news until this obituary was seen.

How lonely Joe's life was at the end can only be imagined. He was only 67 years old, died unexpectedly in his home, the obit said. He had recently retired from almost thirty years of elementary teaching, but the last card I received from him told how he was conducting a prison ministry through the mail and was writing to many, many inmates.

Joe's death may have gone unnoticed, but his life and influence surely encircled thousands of young children and God-thirsty adults on the verge of despair. Yes, Joe will not be lonely in the resurrection. His voice will likely be the first one raised in worshipful praise to our Creator God in heaven, prompting all his friends and loved ones to join him in song, just as he diligently prompted us to begin our gift-giving preparations for the Christmas season every year here on earth.

This thought has lifted my saddened heart and will enable me to continue my holiday with joy.

Joe would want it that way.

Joe Branson's obituary

A Special Day

They say grief is most difficult around the holidays, and this first Christmas without Dean I know will not feel the same. My daughter, sensing this for me, and feeling it at the same time herself, is making every effort to not only make this time of year special for me, but to make it different for all of us.

For instance, instead of passing out gifts to open, as we are accustomed on Christmas Eve, she has planned a mystery treasure hunt for our granddaughters. It won't be the same, but maybe that's a good thing. It won't remind us of Dean's traditional way of wearing a Santa hat and directing the girls in who to give the gifts to, one by one, even after they were capable of reading the name tags on the packages themselves.

All of this and more is good in helping us get over the fact that Dean is not here to enjoy the Christmas season with us. But then today, I was blindsided by Dean's birthday. Yes, December 4th was "his day". How do you replace that? I thought it would be easy to ignore the day, rather like I did with our anniversary last summer.

There are lots of things going on in the summer though, making it easier to let our anniversary pass more or less unnoticed. But his birthday falls on a time of year, when one is more homebound. We just had another hefty load of snow this weekend, forcing us seniors to stay closer to home and off the slippery streets and sidewalks when we can. I have more time on my hands to reminisce.

So, here I am, pouring over old photos, remembering how I would go to such lengths every year to celebrate his birthday with a come-and-go party, or some such event, so he would feel "special" on his day. He always said December birthdays were hard as a kid, because everyone's focus and finances would be on the birthday of Jesus. Not that he minded sharing the time with Him he would say, but especially as a child, the loss would have been noted with some sadness.

I'm not a person prone to tears, which they say is alright for those who grieve. But last night, I too had some sadness, and actually shed some healthy tears after a photo excursion into past times with my life partner.

Unfortunately, this is all I can give him this birthday. But, maybe that's enough to get me through the day. I'm thankful for the relief those tears brought. Yes, tears might just be my new way to celebrate Dean's birthday. But, I'm OK with that. It's the least I can do to keep his memory alive.

trying to make daddy feel special on his birthday--he always appreciated our efforts

I Am Blessed

Close on the heels of a great Christian Women's Retreat I attended with my daughter last month was a chest cold. Mine that is. So we're talking major life adjustments here...staying at home, utilizing every cold remedy known to man for at least a three-week stretch. My pulmonary condition demands extra measures that I have cultivated over the years that keeps this a stay-out-of-the-hospital event for me.

My home becomes a quasi-hospital with my own nebulizer for breathing treatments, along with all the medicines that have proven most successful for keeping my colds from turning into major bronchial/pneumonia episodes.

Fortunately, this time was no exception. I have recovered enough to finally return to church services, and even managed to sing with the choir this weekend. I have also returned to my bread ministry, experiencing not only the pulmonary exercise I get from kneading four loaves of bread, but the joy of seeing people enjoy the fruits of my labor.

For instance, when I called my next-door neighbor and asked if she could send one of her kids over to get another loaf of bread, there was a knock at my door, even before I hung up the phone! Then, when I delivered another loaf to a friend of mine, she indulged in two slices of the bread while we visited. She kept apologizing for eating in front of me, but I reassured her I had already had lunch. It was fun watching the obvious pleasure she got from eating my bread.

Just when I feel like my caregiving days are over now that my husband's gone, I get reminded that perhaps I still have something left to give to others. This knowledge is what keeps all caregivers going. And if you have tended to forget, just know that you do make a difference, and whether you always see it or not, that difference is often in you. Giving of any kind is a blessing to the giver.

Women Makeovers

Don't know how I made it through the month of October without blogging here, but as these autumn months sneak up on us, they are quick to "leave" (pun intended).

Only other excuse I might have for this negligence is busyness with my bread ministry. I have given away over a hundred loaves these last three months, but the Lord blesses this outreach with just enough donations to purchase the ingredients and keep it going.

My biggest event for the month though has to be the Kansas-Nebraska S.D.A. Women's Retreat in Grand Island, Nebraska. It was made even sweeter with the addition of my daughter attending with me. We drove there together and stayed in a room all to ourselves. We enjoyed great speakers, delicious food, and endless women to visit with and establish bonds of friendship.

But our greatest Friend we came home with was the Lord Jesus Himself. The closer we are to Him, the closer we are to each other. So, I can't think of any way a mother and daughter could bond in a greater way than to experience the wonderful weekend of a Christian women's retreat like we just had this past weekend.

I am quickly seeing that with my caregiving days having lapsed for my husband, I have entered another cycle of loving care...that of my daughter taking care of me. And that's OK.

The Human Breadmachine

Since I saw my brother in N.C. this summer, I have taken up an "old" hobby...baking bread. My sister-in-law put the idea in my head, knowing I used to bake it years ago. She was hoping we could bake some when I was visiting there. But the week got away from us, and so I just had to try it when I got home. So far, I've given away loaves to about fifty people, and am loving it!

Even when I was anxious about my brother's family, living on the Outer Banks during Hurricane Florence, baking bread took my mind off the worry. Fortunately, the major damage was about a hundred miles south of them. But it was really "touch and go" there for awhile!

God is good. As it says in Isaiah 33:16...

• "He shall dwell on high; his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks; bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure."

God will provide. Read the story of the widow's loaf in I Kings 17:8-16, where it says...

• "And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah." v. 16

For my recipe, see my blog called "Teresa Taste", at the tab at the top of this blog.

Yard Makeover

I can't wait to tell you about my yard "makeover" today! Union College students volunteer for a mass volunteer day once a year, called Project Impact. I was one of their projects this time. A crew of about 6 or 7 young people worked all morning sprucing up my front and back yards, something I am totally unable to do with my pulmonary restrictions.

My heart is filled with gratitude for all their hard work!

Thanks so much for your earnest labors today all over Lincoln, Union College. Your impact was felt by those you helped, but also seen by our heavenly Father. God bless you as you take up your studies and continue to make an impact on the world.

More than a dozen bags of yard waste now sitting on my curb!

Doing What I Can

Yesterday I participated in some round-table sessions with several of the candidates for election in our next state legislature. Although it was a grueling, all-day affair with ten 45-minute-long sessions with each of ten potential policymakers, it was very gratifying that I could in a small way help increase awareness of brain injury and caregiving by my presence in that group of like-minded advocates.

The twenty-member panel, asking questions of the candidates, included advocates for those with heart disease, Alzheimer's, cancer, brain injury, and seniors with disabilities. In addition, most of us on the panel were volunteers and/or caregivers.

Most touching were the sessions with candidates who had experienced firsthand some of the issues close to our hearts. It was not hard to reach them with our appeals for legislation that could make life easier for these vulnerable citizens of our state.

Human legislation will never be enough to alleviate all of the world's sorrows, but God expects us to do what we can, whenever we can. That was my goal for being there.

"I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

Philippians 3:14 NKJV

The Sower--sits on top of Nebraska's state capitol building

Brother Time

July was a wonderful month for me, as I got to reconnect with my sister and then my brother, who both live miles away, not only from me, but from each other. One of these days we will have to plan some quality time for the three of us together, like I've enjoyed with each of them separately this summer.

The Outer Banks of North Carolina may be advertised as a quality vacation spot for families, but the only attraction for me was my family who lives there. Isn't family the greatest attraction God has created for us? Of course, it is. And I took full advantage of it during my always-too-brief visit with them.

Of course, we did have our "token" beach time in North Carolina, bringing back childhood memories of splashing in the waves, sinking our toes in the sand, and soaking up the sun. I have lived in the glorious, mountainous Northwest, and now enjoy the green, rolling prairies of the Midwest, but I also love the sandy, white beaches of our country's shorelines.

Maybe it's the sounds and smells of the seashore that make it so special as part of God's creative handiwork. You can't hear the mountains or the prairie, except for occasional bird calls or insect sounds (although one is attracted to the peaceful silence there). But when you find yourself on a beach, your senses are instantly engaged fully. The sight of water as far as the eye can see, the roaring sound of waves crashing, even the salty smell from the ocean water, wash over and engulf you, drawing you close to God.

However wonderful my time in nature was though, I still felt especially close to God by the opportunity to spend time with my brother and his family again. My mind is filled with thankfulness and yearning to be with them more. I can't wait for heaven, where we'll have an eternity to enjoy each other's company. I have faith that, not only will my husband be there, who I miss dearly, but also many of my loved ones. Now, there's a vacation/reunion I don't want to miss!

My brother Everett--missing you again already!

Sister Time

I've been looking forward to July all year. My sister from Florida came for a visit--that was the first highlight I knew was coming. It was sweetened for us both by getting to attend her youngest son's wedding in Omaha. It was a simple affair, but rich with tradition and beauty, with just a few family members and friends in attendance. They got married by a judge on the back deck of the bride's mother's house. Then we all went to a restaurant for dinner. Low key, no fuss, no muss. It was a delight to be there for the event.

The next item on my agenda is another airplane trip to see my brother and sister-in-law in North Carolina's Outer Banks. I haven't seen them for several years, so am really looking forward to our visit. Also hoping for another look at the ocean which I miss, having grown up with the Atlantic Ocean literally across the street from us!

It seems odd to make plans and visits like this without weaving Dean's care into the picture. Thoughts of previous trips, with and without him, keep tumbling into my mind. But I refuse to let them sour my adventures. Life with Dean was such an adventure, and I'm discovering that our experiences together only served as an enrichment to life that I still have the privilege of enjoying.

So long as the good Lord provides the opportunity, I will seize it and will try to let the blessings flow. Because I know Dean would want it that way. I carry him in my heart, right next to the God who joined us in the first place.

Sisters forever!

 

...til death do us part...thinking about in particular

Beauty of Laughter for Ashes

It wouldn't seem right not to include all the milestones of my life, following Dean's passing away last February. My first birthday, Easter, church camp meeting, etc. without him.

Perhaps a real biggie should have been our anniversary on June 6th. But up until June 5th, I hadn't even given it a single thought. Just been keeping busy with other things, and it wasn't on my radar. I'm sure I would have thought about it when the actual day came, and hopefully it wouldn't have been tainted with too much sadness.

My two granddaughters remembered though. Yes, only 8 and 10 years old, and they recognized the day's significance. Perhaps their mom, my daughter, initially mentioned it to them.

Both girls were quite secretive with their plans that day before our anniversary. It was my assigned day to "watch" them while mom and dad worked. It wasn't until their mom came to pick them up that afternoon, that I got to see what was behind their whispers all day. They had evidently come up with a scheme to make Grandma happy, instead of sad, on her anniversary.

A skit, featuring Grandpa, gave me some powerful laugh medicine. They dressed up like him (using one of his flannel shirts and sweatpants still in his closet). "He" came sauntering down the hallway with his cane. All I saw was Julia's face, hidden behind a "beard" they had created out of cotton, glued onto a white piece of paper and held onto her face with bread ties.

Funniest of all was what gave her the height she needed to be like Grandpa. She was cleverly sitting on top of her big sister Jenna's shoulders, underneath all Grandpa's clothing. "He" was truly a sight to be seen, even though I couldn't actually see Jenna. Obviously, I couldn't help but laugh at their accurate portrayal of him.

Then, the funniest part of all. This "apparition" standing before me began to talk. "He" said all the things Dean would have said in a little girl-deepened voice! "Let's go for a hamburger. Can I have a Coke and a candy bar? What's for supper? When's supper?" It was just too funny. They had heard those lines almost every time they were around Grandpa.

I was definitely going to remember their skit, just as they were going to remember Grandpa. And both memories will have a tendency to bring laughter and joy to our lives, rather than tears.

Reminding me of this verse:
"To console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning..." Isaiah 61:3

Everything for my Happiness

Today as I participated in a yearly church event, known as camp meeting, I actually experienced so much joy and freedom that I almost feel guilty for enjoying it so much. Recently widowed, I would have thought the experience would bring me more pain and regret since Dean isn't here to enjoy it with me. And, of course, there was a touch of sadness with his absence, but nothing like one would expect.

Unlike other years, when I was consumed with Dean's care and supervision, this time I actually was able to sing in the mass choir, sit with the friends I chose, accept an impromptu dinner invitation with some old friends, and just mingle socially after the services for however long I desired.

It felt like I was breaking the grieving rules. But only another caregiver (and there are many out there) would understand the exhilarating thrill of my full, unencumbered enjoyment of the event. Even being on oxygen didn't damper the joy of the last few days of meetings. It just felt overall good.

And now, being back in the comfort of my home, I have another milestone to contemplate. My granddaughter's birthday is today. And although I'm too tuckered out from church attendance from the past week to celebrate it with her, I am happily reflecting with joy that she has had another year of life.

How sweet to think that a piece of Dean lives on in our daughter and two granddaughters. Seeing them will always keep Dean's memory alive for me.

The Birthday Girl last summer with grandpa

No, I can't be sad, when I realize that God has thought of everything for my happiness, even in widowhood. His decisions are perfect. His timing is perfect. No matter how disruptive my life may seem at the time, I will be glad, knowing that my life is in His hands.

What a great Sabbath!

Casting My Vote

The school my granddaughters attend has gotten out early this year; so this week we have set up a schedule of relatives to "watch" them during the day, when both mom and dad are working. Happily, I am on that schedule, and will look forward to my days of retirement living having more purpose. It is probably the most important job I could ask for.

But today, as election day, I had another important job to do. I told the girls (now almost 8 and 10 years old) they would have to accompany me to a voting site (our neighborhood library), so I could cast my vote. It was a privilege, being able to vote for the candidates of my choice. Of course, in a democracy like ours, I must surrender my choice to the majority. I don't always get the candidates I want.

I have likewise chosen to surrender my life choices to God, and in doing so, I am sometimes shown a different path than I would have voted for myself. But, in the end, I wouldn't want it any other way. God is really the only leader worthy of our support. So, cast your vote for Him every day! You won't be sorry.

A Story That Changed Us

My (I still want to say "our") granddaughters spent the night with me last night. It's so nice that we are in the same town and can do that occasionally. They both chose a book for me to read to them just before they went to sleep.

Jenna, the oldest (9), chose a children's picture book we got from the Alzheimer's Association a few years ago. It was about a grandpa who began to show symptoms of dementia. Both the girls and I were sadly reminded of the many challenges their own grandpa had, and how hard it is not having him around any more. He and his quirky behavior was all they knew. It touched me that she wanted to read again how someone else coped with having a grandpa who was quite different from other adults in their life.

I saw a quotation the other day that said, "It's funny, because we ask God to change our situation, not knowing that He put us in that situation to change us." I wonder how having a grandpa like theirs will change them, and how it has changed all of us.

It certainly will have an impact on how the girls view the difficulties of others. They will not only have abounding sympathy for those who struggle, but a sterling empathy for others that will enable them even more to help those less fortunate.

So, sometimes God's goal isn't just to change us, but to ultimately change those around us. Like He multiplied the loaves and fishes to feed a multitude, He can use our experiences to shape several generations that come after us. We will never know this side of heaven how many people we have fed, whose lives are better because of how we lived, even though it meant almost unbearable trials and sacrifice.

Here's a video of Dean reading a book to Julia a few years ago...

Expressions of Grief

Just celebrated my birthday yesterday. It felt odd making plans that only included me, and me only. To celebrate I therefore made it a solitary affair. After thinking about inviting people over, as I used to do just to get some visitors in the house for Dean, I nixed the idea and opted for spending the day alone. It just felt so good to stay home, relax my always-tired bones (or maybe I should say lungs), and ignore my "to-do" list.

People have regularly been asking how I'm doing since Dean's passing. That is a really difficult thing to answer. If I say great, am I being callous? If I say not so great, am I being weak? I understand the question is posed by friends who are truly concerned about me and want to convey that they really do care, and I do my best to acknowledge their inquiries and answer the best I can at the time. In truth though, my emotions are rather sketchy these days. Perhaps it's good that they ask, so I can take a little self inventory and make sure I am on the path of mental good health, and not headed for a sinkhole of depression.

Today and a few other times though I was confronted by a different kind of response to Dean's passing. It wasn't in the form of a question, which relieved me of the task of an impromptu self-inspection. This neighbor of mine simply stated how much she missed seeing Dean sitting out on the swing in our front yard, greeting all the passersby with a wave or an invitation to chat. This simple acknowledgement of someone else missing my man really warmed my heart. It validated the many times I have felt a sudden gush of emotion when I remember something about Dean that I miss.

Without realizing it, my neighbor had turned a sympathetic, caring comment into an empathetic, supportive acknowledgment. I must remember her approach when confronted with others in the throes of grief. It was simple enough in practice, but the concept was pure genius.

From now on, I'll not be afraid to address someone's ugly emotions directly. But will let it be known that I feel their pain as well--never exactly, but at least to some extent. As a fellow human, we can only carry someone's load with them, not for them. Only God can lift that burden from their shoulders. But we can reduce its weight by lifting it together.

Keeping Busy

These last few weeks, since Dean's memorial service, have left me feeling rather empty, confused, emotional, and definitely more alone in the world. I have filled it with as much sorting and de-cluttering of my house as my lungs will permit.

This involves re-arranging my living quarters so that I feel more comfortable, like buying a twin bed and turning my office into my bedroom. It's a challenge though to make these kinds of major changes, which I was never permitted to do because of Dean's dementia. I struggle now with wanting to change my surroundings so they are fresh and attractive, but also wanting to keep things just as they always were, this time so I will be reminded of Dean when I see them.

I read in a magazine article today that this kind of de-cluttering might be called "Swedish death cleaning". It's done for the purpose of relieving your loved ones of the frightful task of sorting and tossing your possessions when you are gone. Truth be told, part of my emotional state has probably been from a sinking feeling that with my spouse gone, I am next in line. As I make my decisions of whether or not to keep or toss our belongings, I think of the work I would be leaving my only daughter if I leave too much behind for her.

I'm rather frightened of what my next project will be in life after all this "cleaning" is done. I've spent hours planning Dean's memorial, and now organizing things in the house. It comforting to know that I will always have my writing to fall back on. Well, I say "always", but there are, of course, no guarantees in life.

My life is in God's hands totally. The peace of mind this thought brings helps validate why I'm still here and my husband isn't. I know I will see Dean soon, when Jesus comes in the clouds for both of us. He has not preceded me. He's just resting in peace. In the twinkling of an eye for him, I'll join Dean on that trip to our heavenly home to be with our Lord and Savior forever.

Dean in his twenties--How I'll see him at the resurrection!

"...and every eye shall see Him..." Revelation 1:7

Remembering the Memorial

Nearly a month has gone by since Dean's passing. We just had his memorial service at church this past weekend. We couldn't afford anything but the basic cremation, but I was happy to be able to organize the program myself. It was a soul-searching, emotional ride of trying to condense my husband's life into a mere hour, but I think it came off very well.

It felt good to do this final thing for him. Dean had a legacy of being a Spirit-driven Christian man. I merely wanted to share it with as many people as I could to cap off the life of the man who had captured my heart forty-five years ago. Dementia has a way of hiding our best qualities, but I wanted to flesh out his entire life for those who have only known him since his brain injury.

I know I was blessed by the program, and I hope others were as well. From the visitation that occurred after it was over, I believe it served the purpose I had in mind. Which was not to glorify Dean as a person, but to show what it means to cling to God, despite all the challenges life throws at you.

The speakers, who shared about Dean, all had the same theme of what a blessing he was to so many people. And this was all after his disabling tractor accident 19 years ago. It's just amazing how God can turn our worst tragedies into our greatest blessings, if we will let Him take control of our life and use us to serve others.

I'm not sure I'll have much to blog about now that Dean is gone. But I intend to continue my efforts to support other caregivers. I've always wondered what it would feel like when fate would take the role of caregiver from me. But I now see that caregiving, in any capacity and for any amount of time, makes permanent changes to your heart. I now have more time to contemplate and enhance the work that God has done on my heart through caregiving. I guess, in truth, I'll always be one.

Jesus Is My Boss

It is with utmost sadness and grief that I find myself a former caregiver, as of today. My husband, whom I've seen through multiple life-threatening crises over the years, has finally breathed his last at a care facility that he's been at for over a year now. My daughter and I were with him as much as possible his last day with us. Even though he was unresponsive to our voices and touch, it felt right for us to be by his side.

I'm so glad I saw him just the day before too. We had an unusually good time visiting then. It seemed he was awake and alert longer than I had seen him in quite awhile. One other thing that struck me as a bit strange was that he asked me to wear one of his ball caps. Evidently, he'd been wearing both his old cowboy hat and a ball cap that said "Jesus is my boss" for a few days. Some friends who had been to see him took his picture wearing them.

Why he would give the cap to me, and insist I wear it, was rather puzzling. But it wasn't until the next day when we got the call from his nurses about his rapid decline that I realized that he was trying to tell me something by his gesture. My only "boss" now would be Jesus. He was turning me over to Him.

What a gift from this man I thought I was taking care of for eighteen years. Really, all along he's been taking care of me. The faith in Jesus he encouraged and supported was not only needed to live with him all these years, but it will be the same faith I will need to live without him.

Developing Trust

One would think that after seventeen years of caregiving for my husband at home, I would have mastered the concept of trust. It's rather easy to put your trust in God, however. He's a miracle-worker. His powers cannot be matched. We need Him on our side. And it's relatively easy to call on Him when a crisis happens, or even when the small stuff gets to us.

Recent  happenings, however, have reminded me that I need to call forth my ability to trust in others, outside the realm of deity. Dean has been in long-term care for over a year now, and I'm still finding it difficult to trust those who are now responsible for his care. Even though they have proven time and again to have our best interest at heart and to be totally skilled in knowing how to manage his care, it just isn't easy to turn him over to other caregivers more equipped to handle his ever-growing special needs.

But trust is trust, and knowing how to trust our fellow man is just as important as trusting God. After all, we will be living side by side with each other in heaven. We'd better get this valuable ability mastered if we're going to reside there with fellow believers.

It's more complicated here on this sinful planet, however. But once we've determined that someone is deserving of our trust, then we'd better be able to hand over appropriate control, even if it involves the care of someone we love and cherish.

As Dean struggles with ever-increasing health challenges, I am forced to release him to medical professionals, who can better cope with the kind of care he needs. Of course, the Lord is always there to call on, but I must develop my trust in those immediately addressing his care. It's not an easy task to achieve. But it has shown me that trust is still something I haven't mastered.