Like Children

The other day as I was transporting my daughter and granddaughters somewhere, we noticed little three-year-old Mae singing in the back seat. She was repeating her song over and over. My daughter commented that she was like her grandpa. (Dean, as I've indicated earlier, is a master song-repeater, of the "broken record" variety, getting stuck on the same song for days and weeks.)

I corrected her in saying that she wasn't copying Grandpa, but Grandpa was the one who was copying his granddaughter, and we both got a chuckle. Yes, repetitious singing is normal for a three-year-old, but it wasn't normal...well, you know the rest. There's nothing "normal" about dementia, as those who've lived with it can attest. Keeping your sense of humor is one of the ways you can help keep your sanity though.

I have found it humorous that one of Dean's latest songs he's been humming and singing is "Rock-a-bye Baby". Usually his songs are ones he's heard lately, so I couldn't understand how this one got into his brain. It was so different from the hymns he usually gets attached to.

After talking about Grandpa copying Julia though, it dawned on me that he may have heard the girls singing "Rock-a-bye Baby" to their dolls, or maybe he started singing it with them as they were trying to rock their doll-babies to sleep. So, this would confirm the copying-his-granddaughter theory.

Jesus told us to be as little children, loving and trusting. Dean is reminding us of that every day.

Dean holding one of his granddaughters a few years back.

No Excuse

Dean has been asking several times if we could ride around and look at Christmas lights some evening, which was rather surprising. He's never been too interested in them other years. But tonight I set out to give him his wish. I had heard of an impressive light show at a house on the outskirts of town.

Even before we got to the first McDonald's on our prepared route though, Dean began hinting that a hamburger or a shake would be nice too, which confirmed my suspicions that he may have had another motive for his budding holiday spirit.

We got to the address I was given though, after a few detours, and the cars in front of us began slowing down and finally stopped in front of the light extravaganza. We were just beginning to see what we'd come for, when Dean started informing me that he needed to use the bathroom and we'd better head back home--quick. Remembering his recent bouts with diarrhea, I passed all the stopped vehicles and we barely got to see the light show, as we quickly sped home for his requested "pit stop".

As we almost reached our driveway, Dean, whose memory has been worse than usual lately, wondered why we were coming home so soon. I reminded him that he was needing to use the bathroom, but that we at least got out to the house with all the lights. He then chided me for not telling him the purpose of our ride and that he would have looked longer at the lights while we were out there had he known it was our destination and purpose.

I'm not sure how many emotions I was smothering about then, but I'm sure my hair has several more gray strands after our little outing.

I know God has been forthright to me about my destination and purpose in life too. It's all right there in the Bible. Jesus, the Light of the World, is there for all of us to see. There's really no excuse for not taking a long, unhurried look.

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.

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!

Remember the Landmarks

I just happened to find myself downtown today, looking for a parking space somewhere near the State Office Building, so I could attend a coalition meeting for caregivers there. Having just changed purses before I left the house, I neglected to include in it any coins, so was hard-pressed how I was going to get parked and inside before the meeting started.

Finally, I saw a parking space close enough that offered easy access and room for the big Lincoln I drive (my dad's old car). The meter showed I had about a half hour left, so I planned on finding my meeting place inside and letting someone know that I would have to get a dollar changed and get my meter fed before I got a ticket. I'd just be a little late for the meeting.

Wearing a visitor tag fastened to my coat, those I was meeting with cautioned me to just act like I knew where I was going and I could get in and out of the building easy enough to take care of this business, without having to return and pick up another visitor tag.

No problem. I thought I indeed did know what I was doing and where I was going. But when I took one of the many the elevators back down to the first floor, and hurried outside to feed the meter, I suddenly found myself lost, which was preferable to my car being lost, heaven forbid. Although that thought did occur to me as I proceeded to walk frantically all around the block to the other side of the building, where I hoped my car would be obediently parked.

As I made my way back inside and up to the fifth floor, I consciously remembered landmarks this time, so I could truly know where I was going, instead of taking the wrong door out, when it was time to go home. I'm ashamed to admit that I was concentrating so hard on finding the correct way out later though, that I neglected to return my visitor tag.

Let's just say that at that point I knew where I was going, but didn't know what I was doing.

How easy it was for me to get lost in the small confines of a city block today. I pray I can do better on my trip to our heavenly home. It's obvious that my only chance is with Jesus Christ, my Divine Navigator and G.P.S. And how nice that at this heavenly destination, there won't be any visitor tags to worry about returning.

"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!

What a Chore!

Today Dean and I were introduced to a new chore provider, the kind who provides you with a completed chore. The chore for which I requested assistance was taking Dean to his pool therapy twice a week. That doesn't sound like a particularly difficult assignment, unless you have ever had Dean as a passenger while you were driving.

Most of the patience I have developed with Dean, an ex-truck driver who hasn't been able to drive for thirteen years now, has originated in our automobile, listening to his never ending driving instructions. Just when I think I have mastered the patience test though, I find myself coming unglued again and yelling hysterically for him to shut up. Even saying the words "shut up" instead of "be quiet" will get his attention, but unfortunately I have spoken more graphically over the years, as I literally force myself not to do him or myself bodily harm. It's that bad.

There's a Bible verse that says, "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able." This definitely has had fulfillment for me with the news that I qualify for this new service for Dean. God knows how much I can handle.

Now, I just pray this new chore provider can handle Dean. All I know already is that they aren't paying her enough.

Dean's Chat with God

Dean and I had different opinions about which radio station to listen to on the way to the doctor's office this afternoon, so we agreed to turn the radio off. I said I was going to use the time for silent prayer, hoping it would discourage him from telling me how to drive. Well, Dean thought prayer was a good idea, but his wasn't silent. He prayed out loud all the way across town, and it was quite an experience to hear his easygoing friendly chat with God. I almost expected to turn around and see God sitting in our backseat.

Isn't this how our prayer dialogue should be though? Just a one-on-one conversation with our best friend. He even pointed out the colorful sunset that was about to dress up the sky. As if God needed him to draw His attention to His own work of art.

The Sabbath hours have begun now and I pray I can be as intimate with God this day as Dean was on our car ride. After all, that's what the day was designed for. Of course, we're close to God all through the week, but on Sabbath, a day He has blessed, He especially wants our undivided attention. Every time I turn around, I know God will be especially close.

I'd Better Listen

I made several car trips today and with the weather so nice, it was a joy to bring my little doggy companion along. She sits very dignified on my lap while I'm driving, all five pounds of her looking out the window. I half expect her to tell me if any cars are coming on the left when we're at stop signs. She thinks she's helping me drive, I'm sure.

I want Jesus to be the "driver" of my life. But I hope, in my efforts to be close to Him, I don't restrict His steering. Just as Minnie can get in the way at times, I probably do cramp His style and make His driving more difficult, when I think I'm doing nothing but being a help.

There is a more comfortable seat for Minnie though, and sometimes she takes advantage of it. There's a perfect ledge for her on the top of the back seat which gets all the sun's rays through the back window. And the view is much more inclusive. I should encourage her to use this lovely perch more.

Do you think Jesus has a better place for me to sit? I better listen to His directions. I heard my husband say to a pastor once, "Are you a man of God?...Then I'd better listen." Wise words for a man with dementia.