WALK

WALK

I drove into the driveway today. I was so tired. It had been a long and hectic day at work. There were the usual financial worries that every non-profit experiences, setting schedules, contacting old clients, establishing new ones, classes to teach, teens to reach, hurting people to love, making sure no one or nothing slips through the cracks. I was just plain weary.

I wanted to go into the house, eat some dinner, sit on the couch, and just relax. Did I mention that our grandchildren are temporarily living with us? Before I got the car turned off, three beautiful faces were smiling at me through the window. Mom was headed out for a walk. They headed back inside with their daddy to get ready for a family walk when their mom came back for them. I headed into the house where dinner was waiting. I had just finished eating when my grandson Logan came into the kitchen. Somehow, he had stayed behind.

“Nana do you want to take a walk with me? I really want to take a walk but I don’t want to walk unless you do.” How can you say “no” to that, right? I told him, “Sure, let’s go.” He squeezed my legs. Jumped up and down. Yelled, “Yeah! We’re going on a walk! Yeah! I’m ready, lets go right now.” As I headed toward the door he said, “Nana I can’t walk barefoot and I don’t have any shoes on. Nana, will you help me find my shoes? I can’t go until I find my shoes.” I asked him where he left them last. He didn’t know. “Nana, please find my shoes for me.” Poppi looked, I looked. I exhausted all of the usual places shoes hide in our house, under the couch, in the play room, in the den, in his room, under the television cabinet, by the back door. Nothing. “Nana, I don’t have to walk, I’ll just ride my bike and you can push me down and up the hill.” Shoes, I need to find those shoes! Then I remember, the car. Maybe the shoes are in the car? Bingo.

Shoes on, we’re ready for our walk now. Logan runs ahead, down the hill, and stops at the bottom. He is squatting down looking at something; he picked it up and said, “Nana, I’m so curious about this. What is this?” He is holding a spider’s egg sack. It is a curious thing. How long has it been since I took time to marvel at a spider’s egg sack? I share what I knew about spiders and the egg sacks they lay and how it opens up and all the baby spiders crawl out. He is like a sponge. He soaks up every word. He is wide eyed as he slips it into his pocket and says, “Nana, lets run and show this to Isabella and tell her about spider eggs.”

How often is that me? I want to walk with God. I don’t want to journey unless I can go on a journey with God. When it seems we are not going as soon as I want, I beg, “Please God, I want to walk with you.” Then, when it seems He begins the journey, when things fall into place, I have an overwhelming urge to yell, “I’m not ready!” “I can’t find my shoes.” “God, I’ll be ready after this, or after that happens.” “God, I’m not sure I’m really equipped yet?” “God, why don’t I just ride and you can push me.” I love the fact that my Heavenly Father already knows where my shoes are. He gently puts them on my feet and when he takes me on journey, we walk together. I think it pleases Him when I say, “Lord, I’m so curious about this. Will you teach me?” I want to be a sponge that soaks up every word. I want to run with anticipation and share with others the amazing things that the Father has revealed.” Lord, thank you that you are never too tired, too busy, or too distracted to hear me when I say, “Lord, I want to take a walk with you. Can you help me find my shoes?”

HOLDING HANDS

I love holding hands. It hasn’t always been that way. When I was little, I remember my mom or dad holding my hand when we were out shopping. I think that it really became annoying to me when I reached my preteen and teen years and my mom still reached for my hand as we crossed a street. I remember thinking, “I’m not a baby, I can cross the street by myself. I don’t need to have my mom hold my hand.”

Last week we took mom to church. We got out of car and began to walk toward the church. Mom’s Alzheimer has advanced to the point that she occasionally feels a little unsteady. As we started toward the church, I reached for her hand. I love holding my mom’s hand. I hold her hand not because I have to, but because I can’t imagine not taking advantage of the opportunity to hold on tight to this woman as long as I can.

I was taking a walk tonight with my granddaughter. It was almost dark. We were walking down the road and she ran up beside me. She reached up and slipped her hand in mine. I gently held her hand. She squeezed mine hard. Then she said, “No, Nana. Hold my hand like this.” She squeezed hard again and continued to the keep pressure tight. I tightened my grip and she said, “Yeah, Nana just like that. Hold it tight, just like that, so that I can feel it.”

“Lord, today was a hard day. There are dark scary things, like watching the mom I know and love fade a little more each day. How can I help my dad deal with the emotional loss of his life partner, and the physical and mental exhaustion that Alzheimer’s caregivers face? Can I keep up with the demands of work? Am I showing my husband that he truly is the love of my life? Am I there for, and being a good mom for, my son and daughters, and loving on my grandbabies in a way that will leave a legacy of love? Lord, when I look around, it seems like it’s getting darker. Please hold my hand, hold it tight so that I can feel it. Thank you, Lord.”