Creating the Paradigm Shift

Part of my summer agenda is to clean out old files, either my desk or my computer.  I ran across this today and though it was worth repeating.  

Okay, it’s summer; you may be wondering what we are doing at the office.  While the work in the schools is finished for the season, the training and programs continue.  We have been wrapping up the final numbers, entering data from the school year, reviewing program impact and assessing personal evaluations.  We discuss, how effective have we been?  Where could we, as instructors, improve?  What have we learned that will move our program to the next level of excellence, etc?  It was during one of those sessions that we had a visit from a student who had recently graduated from one of our local schools.  He stopped by unexpectedly and stayed for a couple of hours talking to our staff about the power and importance Reality, Check, Inc. had on his life.  He first began in our program in the 8^th grade.  He was one of the students who slumped in his chair and acted like he was too cool, or too sleepy, for the information.  In 9^th grand, he was the one with the chip on his shoulder.  In, 10^th grade, he made some personal decisions that caused him to have legal consequences and spend some time in juvenile detention.  His 11^th grade year, he was surprised to see Reality Check, Inc. at the alternative educational program he attended.  He even got chosen for a “Backpack” visual about how negative choices add unnecessary weight to our future.  This caught his attention and surprised him as it began to refresh his memory and bring to understanding all of the things he had learned from Reality Check, Inc. in the past.  His senior year, he was at a different alternative school to help him catch up on credits he had missed, again Reality Check, Inc. showed up.  This time he was eager to not only hear the information but also to actively gain more knowledge by engaging in discussion and seeking more information and mentoring outside the classroom setting.  The change and growth in this young man has been incredible to watch.  I think the most powerful things he shared with the instructors that day was the following:  

·      Don’t believe the student who pretends not to care.  He said, “In eighth grade you planted a seed in my heart that stuck with me.  You said I had value, and that I was special, my choices matter.  No one had ever told me that before.  I was only pretending not to listen, after all, I had my reputation to think about.

·      You change more teens than you think.  He said, “You didn’t make all the kids want to make better decisions about sex, drugs, alcohol, etc.  There are still some that may want to, but you are like a speed bump in the road.  When it comes down to it, they can’t forget the information you share with them.”  He recounted several instances of when his friends or he made the correct choice because they couldn’t shake the truth of the knowledge they had on how and why to make the positive choice for their future.

·      Don’t underestimate the power of truth combined with caring.  He shared what a powerful impact that the respect our instructors show each student has on their lives and futures.  He said, “When you teach us, you don’t put your self above us as having something we can’t obtain in our life.  You are on our level, not in a peer-to-peer way, but in an understanding way that you know where we are at.  You don’t judge us.  You want to help us by giving us knowledge and skills that help us succeed.”  He paused for a minute and said, “No, you really but yourself underneath us, and life us up to a higher standard.  You lift us up to where you know we can go.” 

You already know, there wasn’t a dry eye in the office by this time.  Reaching teens is not about having and using the latest technology.  It isn’t only about having that educational degree, or using the latest teaching techniques, although those things can enhance to experience.  It isn’t about the age or gender of the instructor.  It is about the power of giving time, a pat on the back, a simple, eye-to-eye; “How’s your day going?”, or, “I’m glad you’re here.”  Or most importantly, “Your choices matter because you matter.”  It is about being committed to care about this generation and having the passion to see them succeed.

This doesn't just apply to instructors in a classroom.  These three principals can be applied in the home, in business, and in faith-based organization. Take some time today to share truth with a caring attitude, even if it is not well received in the moment.  

Show Up & Participate

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“This class made me re-evaluate my choices in school.  I want to show up every day and participate in my own future.” – 11^th grade student

Have you ever been guilty of just “Going through the motions”?  I think we all have at one time or another.  It is a powerful day when we get that wake up call to not just “show up”, but to “show up and participate.” 

What needs re-evaluated in your choices today?  Let’s join this young person by choosing not only to re-evaluate, but to be honest enough to say, “I want to show up Every Day and Participate in my own future.”  By doing that, I guarantee you will not only change your future, you will also be impacting someone else’s future.

The Kiss of Grace

I sat in the cafeteria, waiting for the meal to begin. Soon the tables began to fill up. They were saving seats, waving excitedly as their friends came through the door. It was a typical cafeteria setting, until the fights broke out. The name-calling was shocking. There was no awareness of politically incorrect speech. Words and phrases, such as “fatty”, “ugly face”, “big and ugly”, “stupid” “I ought to just shut you up”, “she’s an idiot”, etc. flew back and forth across tables. There was a total disregard of a no bullying policy. I have never seen such bad behavior. The mother- heart in my chest ached for those being taunted and for those watching. I felt anger toward those showing such anger and hatred for the people around them. Another part of my mother-heart felt the overwhelming urge to get up and spank some naughty behinds and wash out some dirty mouths. I wondered how many I could spank before the cafeteria aids noticed what was taking place. Then I looked into my mom’s eyes. She just smiled, shook her head and said, “Some people are just naughty. Yes, we were in the cafeteria of the nursing home where mom now resides. Interesting, it really doesn’t matter the age, bad behavior, is bad behavior.

Mom continued eating her meal and I tried to concentrate on visiting and ignoring the commotion swirling around us. I couldn’t help noticing the table right next to ours, where much of the bad behavior was originating. Sitting between two pinched faced, squinty eyed, women who were delighting in using their words to tear down, goad, and shock others, sat a quiet woman. Her face seemed so sweet and a look of peace rested on her countenance. The two women were judging everyone around. Anyone who didn’t meet their standard began to become victims of ridicule. One of the women started telling the sweet woman that she was Catholic. The little lady looked at her and said, “I’m Southern Baptist.” And then went back to enjoying her meal. Occasionally she would look up at some comment and say, “That’s not very kind.” Or “Let’s be kind.” I sat there feeling very proud of her composure and kindness in the face of such rude table companions.

Mom and I finished our meal and walked to her room as our visit came to a close for the evening. As we neared the door, she decided that she wanted to walk on down to the nurses’ station. It seems to be the central gathering place for most of the residents. I hugged her, said, “I love you Momma,” and gave her a kiss on the cheek. As I turned around to leave, I noticed the eyes of the kind lady from the cafeteria looking up into mine from where she sat in her wheel chair. There was such a sweet sadness in her eyes that I knew I had to be obedient to the urging within my spirit to give her a hug, say “Jesus loves you so much,” and give her a kiss on her cheek. She smiled into my eyes, squeezed my arms and said, “I know He does, I know!”

I was enjoying the feeling of willingly obedience as I stood up and smiled into her smiling eyes. It was then that I heard a gravely, gruff voice saying, “Hey! What about me? Don’t I deserve a kiss?” I looked over into the eyes of possibly one of the homeliest human beings I have ever encountered. I’m not sure if it was a man or woman, the clothes didn’t give a clue. The body shape undefined in its size. There was facial hair that was unnatural for a woman and yet an abundance of curves unnatural for a man. That’s when I felt “the urging” again. Interesting how time slows down and a hundred thought can course through your brain in a split second. I thought about acting like I hadn’t heard, I thought about laughing and mumbling something about “not today”, I thought about all of the horrific, unknown germs, I could get if I kissed that face. Then I realized that I was bending down looking for the least offensive spot on that face to kiss as I heard the words, “Absolutely, you deserve a kiss!” coming from my throat, and “Help me Jesus screaming in my heart.” I looked into her/his eyes and said, “Jesus really loves you!” I think that person was as shocked as I was.

I stood and hugged and kissed mom again and then headed for my car, and the bottle of Germex in the glove box. I could barely resist the urge to break into a panicked run. When my lips had been sanitized, and the panic had begun to sub-side, I was overwhelmed by the thought of how much God loves me. He speaks to my heart and teaches me lessons everywhere, every minute, and through every person and circumstance. Here are the things I learned today: #1. Behavior not conquered young will conquer you for a lifetime. What is in your heart will come out. #2. It’s easy to accuse others of judging unjustly, and not realize that even in that we may be judging unjustly. #3. It is easy to love the lovely- not so easy to love the unlovely. #4. Willing obedience may cause panic, but it is always worth choosing to be obedient.” I’m pretty sure that when my lips stop burning from the Germex, I may think of a few more things.

God, thank you for loving me in all my “sinful ugliness.” Thank you for bending down and kissing me with your grace and forgiveness.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Manhood Principle 3

You know how some days are just near perfect? Today was one of those days. Perfect for learning from my grandsons. Men are just men at any age.

To begin our day we learned Manhood Principle #3: “Real men lead courageously.”

We visited the Native American Museum. The boys were fascinated with the clothing. They begged me to go home and sew up Indian cloths for them, today. I think it has something to do with the loincloth I made for them last year, much simpler. They were more fascinated by the arrows, especially the ones they had on sale for $1. They talked Popi into buying them each a few and promptly attached them to the homemade arrows when we got home. They immediately went hunting. It did cross my mind that I might be crazy turning an eight and nine year old loose with homemade bows and arrows with real arrowheads. To my credit, I did instruct them in the importance of not shooting each other or the pets. I wonder now if they heard me. Not really certain.

They did a little skinny-dipping in the afternoon to cool off. Then in the evening they asked to go fishing. The evening was beautiful. The temperature, just right, the mosquitoes, visiting somewhere else, and the sun was setting in beautiful hues. The mood was relaxing… and then Randy caught a bass. The competition was on. Finally, Hunter yelled, “Got one, got a big one!” I watched as he wrestled the bass to the shore and helped him pull it in. It was a heavy large mouth bass. Hunter kept yelling, “He’s a big one. He’s bigger than Popi’s.” About that time, Popi (Randy) was pulling in crappie. Popi congratulated him on such a big catch and asked, “What’d you catch him on?” To which Hunter grinning said, “Fisherman’s secret.” Then the competition heated up a notch. When it was time to go home. Hunter call out from across the pond, “I’m the winner. I caught the biggest fish. I’m the winner.” I said, “Hunter, fishing isn’t about winning. It’s about enjoying it and having a good time while you fish.” As I am in the middle of this “teachable moment”, Randy yells out of the window of the pickup, “I’m the winner. I caught the most fish.” Competition.

We passed Papa King’s (my dad) house on the way home. The guys all had to stop and show him the fish and weigh them. Hunter’s fish weighed out at 4 ½ lbs. He then wanted to weigh Popi’s fish. Randy said, “Na, we don’t need to weigh him. He feels like about 3 lbs.” To which Hunter, vigorously shaking his head says, “No way, we got to weigh him.” When the fish weighed in at a little less than 2 ½ lbs, Hunter began doing the victory dance. I looked at my dad and said, “I tried to tell them it isn’t about winning; it’s the joy of fishing.” My dad looked shocked that I would suggest such a thing and replied, “It’s about the competition. Nothing wrong with good healthy competition.”

And that’s when it hit me. Manhood Principle #3: A real man leads courageously, is already in the heart of these little men. It is being drawn out by the moments of adventure, sharing and accepting the responsibility of risk, of success built upon success, and the encouragement and competition of the older men in their life. I am so grateful for the example of their Dad, Popi and Great Grand Papa. I am also thankful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to see in that moment of “fish weighing” four generations of men, ageless, in the pleasure of “Competition.”

The Long Road:

She came slowly walking through the trees that line the east yard. Her face bronzed by the sun. “Hi Mom, beautiful day huh?!” I call out with much more enthusiasm than I feel. I can tell by her movements, this is not a good day. Logan, my grandson, runs to greet her, enthusiastically calling out, “Hi Gran! Whatcha doing?”

My heart is squeezed by sadness as I look into frightened eyes. She puts her finger to her lips and shushes him. “Be quiet. They are after me.” She says, looking out from behind the trees.

“Who’s looking for you, Mom?” I ask the question even though I already know the answer.

“They are. He is. Those guys at my house.”

This same scene plays out day after day, so I try the lines that have worked in the past to re-set a calm spirit within her.

“Why don’t you have a seat and rest here in the shade. We are enjoying the shade and just looking at the garden. Let me get you a drink.”

I notice how red her neck and face are. It is 90+ degrees and she is dressed in a black sweater. She likes it because of the buttons and embroidery on it. It is clear that her day has been spent walking. Always looking for home and yet unable to find it, because the home she is looking for is somewhere deep in her mind.

We finally coax her into the house and get her to drink some water and I put sunscreen on her face and neck. Her blue eyes look strangely out of place in a face so darkened by her constant traveling under the sun.

She is anxious to be back on the road to her house. I am grateful to live in a rural area that allows her the freedom and safety to travel like she does. If she lived anywhere else she would have long ago been confined to a home or in a nursing home.

I watch as she leaves the yard. When she gets a distance down the drive, I follow to make sure she makes it safely. Memories flood my heart as I watch her slowly walking down the road. She has walked this same road between her home and mine at least a million times over the last 30 years, bringing a special treat for her grandchildren, and then for her great grandchildren or just coming over to offer a hand with the house, the kids, life. We have visited over tea, sick children, piles of laundry, and flower magazines. She is my dear friend and I miss her already as I see her walk into her yard and disappear around to her front door.

God, help me to always see her as she was and as she will be in eternity. In the long road of Alzheimer’s, help me to have the spiritual insight to realize that this is just a short bend in the path You have for us. Thank you for eternity and healing.

Cleansing

Sunday morning, I got up early and went to help dad by getting mom ready for church. Mom's Alzheimer's has made it hard for them to attend their church for the past year. They have been watching Pastor Dale Thompson's services on the television each Sunday. Dad mentioned that he would like to attend their church in the community if he thought he could get mom ready. She has refused to allow him to help her with any type of cleaning or changing clothing for quite some time now.
I know that he needs that connection with other people and so I told him I would come over on Sunday morning and get her ready with a bath and fresh cloths instead of doing it on Saturday as I usually do. She has allowed me to help her without much complaint until about two weeks ago. I must say it has become a test of wills. Last week when I tried, she gave me the "Mom Look", you know the one I mean. There was no way she was taking a bath and after that look there was no way I was making her. I felt just like a kid again. We did get the cloths changed though, but not without her becoming very upset.
So, Sunday morning I went over early to give her a bath and change her cloths, hoping to catch her in a better mood. When I arrived I could hardly get through the door because she was pushing her way out and saying, "I'm glad you're here. Let's go, right now, I want out of here." She was not by any means ready to go anywhere. Randy and I went on in the house and encouraged her to come back in and visit a bit. I explained that it was Sunday morning and I was going to help her get ready to go to church with dad. Immediately, I met resistance. She was not going to take a bath, change cloths, or be courteous about it. I tried everything I knew. I became the "mom", I begged, I resorted to bribery, I even pled, "Mom you made me promise that I wouldn't let you go dirty or wear dirty cloths. I'm trying to honor that promise." nothing worked. I would have tried tears, but by that time I was too frustrated to cry. In fact, I left for Church defeated. She won. You can't force a grown woman into a tub in any fashion that is respectful, or at least I haven't found a way.
I felt bad for her, I felt worse for my dad. How does he do it 24/7? I took him to have a medical procedure last week that required him to be put under for awhile. When they brought him back to the room the first thing he said, even while his eyes were shut was, "This is the best sleep I've had since your mom got sick." Then he said, "I wonder how my bride is?" She is always on his mind and heart. But it has to be beyond frustrating when the one who is on your mind doesn't even recognize or acknowledge your love or care.
Later that afternoon, I was thinking about the whole morning episode and these questions came like a weight in my heart, "How often do I ask God to cleanse me and not let there be a spot in my heart that is not pleasing to Him, and yet when He steps in to cleanse me, I refuse and even fight His loving care?" "How often do I live life and face circumstances with an attitude that says I don't acknowledge that I am on His mind and heart and that He is always lavishing His loving care over me?"
Wow! Heart Check! God, I not only want to be willing for you to cleanse me, but eager. I want my heart, mind, soul, and body to acknowledge your ever constant love and care and to lavish love back to you.
God, Thank you for what you are teaching me in the difficult times of Mom's Alzhiemer's disease. Bless my mom, she is still teaching me more about you, just as she has all my life.
Thank you, Mom. You were, are, and eternally will be, an amazing woman.

Ten Not Eight

I sit here on the couch, snuggled close to my side is my granddaughter. I love the soft sounds of her breathing, and the delicious crunch of crackers as she has that last bedtime snack. She is having a sleepover at Nana and Poppi’s. Could anything be better than a sleep over? Not from my point of view. I love every minute I get to spend with my beautiful grand children. It seems like it just doesn’t happen often enough. This year and every year forward I plan to be more intentional to spend more time with them, as it seems time is flying by so fast.

January, Sanctity of Human Life month, is almost coming to a close. Life really is so sacred. I love people, especially my “little people”. I am quick to tell anyone I meet how blessed I am to have eight wonderful grandchildren. But tonight thinking about the sanctity of life I have to acknowledge the ache in my heart, an ache for two very specific lives. I tell people I have eight grandchildren, but that is really not the truth. It’s just something that I have conditioned myself to say. It seems easier than the awkward, uncomfortable silence as people try to process hearing, “I have 10 grandchildren, eight here and two in heaven.”

The truth is, I do have ten beautiful grandchildren. I just have not had the privilege of holding and looking into the beautiful faces of two of them. That does not mean that they are not often on my mind and always in my heart. I think of those two beautiful babies that are missing each time we gather as family. They would be between 5 and 7 now. I imagine them running through the house, playing in the yard, or helping their younger cousins. I wonder if they are grandsons or granddaughters? Do they have blue eyes or brown? Do they have the same sense of delightful humor the others have?

I have a ultrasound photo of my grandchild who would have turned five just last month. It is a treasure, a promise of the life that waits in eternity. The Bible says that we don’t grieve like those who have no hope. Even though my throat tightens and tears flow, I have hope. Jesus Christ is my hope. He secured my eternity and the eternity of all who turn to Him for forgiveness and new life. Because of that hope, I have a joy in knowing that I will not only see and hold my grandchildren but will spend an eternity getting to know them. My desire is to be surrounded by all of my children and grandchildren in Heaven…not one missing.

THE HUG

Two weeks ago we took mom to church with us. Usually if she is upset when we pick her up, we will turn on a CD of her niece singing the old hymns of the Faith. This has a soothing effect on her nearly every time, except that Sunday. Nothing seemed to calm her. She talked under her breath throughout the service and huffed and sighed along with scowling and shaking her head. When the invitation was given we had to stand in the row in such a way that she couldn’t push past and rush out of the church. When we went to leave, she didn’t want anything to do with me. She didn’t want to go to the car because she “knew that I intended to take her somewhere she didn’t want to go.” I took her into the Ladies Restroom before we left, and she came across the room with her finger pointing and demanded to know “what business my dad had being at her house.” Long story short, we got her to her home and she growled as she got out of the car and stomped her way to the house that she “WAS NOT HAPPY about coming to this house and being left with that man.”

This week, I must admit, it was with some hesitation and anxiety that we picked mom up for church. The trip to church was quiet and pleasant conversation occasionally punctuated the ride. When we got to church, my sister was in the foyer greeting guests. Mom saw her and decided that she would go home with her, since my sister had attended the earlier service, and that we would pick her up after lunch together at my sister’s home. The day was one of those rare days when I caught glimpses of My Mom, not just this new mom. It was one of those treasure box days that you will log into your memory for when the days get tough again

The sight I treasure most happened when we pulled in at her home. She got out of the car and excitedly hurried to the house. She searched the large kitchen windows as she hurried up the sidewalk. When she went into the house, she began calling for my dad, “Anyone here? Are you here?” She heard him call out from the back of the house and she raised her arms up in an open hug greeting and rushed down the hall way toward him as he came from the back room. I don’t know what was better, watching her rush to hug him, or watching the delight and surprise on his face as she greeted him with a hug, a kiss, and a “Hello Hun!”

Here I am, almost fifty years old, a mother of four and grandmother of eight, and it still lifts my spirit, lightens my heart, and makes me feel warm and safe, to see that type of love expressed between my dad and mom. That is a legacy I want to leave for generations to come. I want them to know that seasons may come and seasons may go but the love their parents, or grandparents, share for each other, like the love of God, is eternal.

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.”

EYES
Today I looked into a beautiful pair of brown eyes. They sparkled, they danced, they said "Isn't it a great day? I love you." I picked up my granddaughter, gave her a tight hug, and told her, "I will love you forever." She said, "I love you too- forever, now let's have breakfast."

Today I went with my mom and dad to an adult day-care facility. Mom's Alzheimer is at a point that she is afraid to stay alone, afraid to stay with dad, just plain afraid. When she asks "Where's dad?" I am never sure if she means my dad or her dad? At times she is a young girl looking for her parents. At other times she is looking for her husband, my dad. The hardest part is when he is sitting right next to her. I know if I say he is here she will become angry and frustrated because she thinks its a trick. So I look into the eyes of the woman who is such an incredible mom and I do what she whipped me many times for doing as a small child... I lie. "I don't know where he is?" Or, I mumble something that even I don't understand. Today I prayed that she would like the facility. It would be a place for her to go, visit, sing, and laugh with others. It is also the place that will give my dad a much needed break from the 36-hour day of Alzheimer's care-giving.

Today was picture-day at the facility. They asked me to man the camera and get a group picture before going in for lunch. I was searching the faces in that group. What could I read from them. Were they happy, were they cared for, was this a safe and happy place for mom?

Today I looked into a beautiful pair of brown eyes. They sparkled, they danced, they said "Isn't it a great day? It is good here." I smiled into her eyes, as she pushed her walker my way, she smiled and winked her eye." It said, "It will be okay, she will love you forever." And then we had lunch.

The Bible says the eyes are a window to the soul. I want my eyes to reflect the joy, peace, kindness, and the unconditional love of the Father to anyone who looks my way.

Vacation!

I love vacations. I love the weeks leading up to them, the planning, the packing... Okay not really those parts, but I love dreaming about it with Randy and seeing him take care of the details. I do like packing except for knowing that I will always need something more than what I packed. Randy and I have a goal to see how many days we can travel with packing no more than a back pack each. This time it was seven days. Probably because bathing suits don't take up much room.

Randy and I just got back from Cozumel. We have wanted to go for years. In fact we made plans on our 25th anniversary and just didn't follow through. This year was our 30th anniversary. We made the decision rather on the spur of the moment, so that was fun. I think that is how we work best. Be spontaneous, go for it. This way we don't have time to think of all the extremely "good" reasons why we shouldn't follow through.




We had a wonderful seven days of being awed by the beauty that God has created. We snorkeled in water that looked like it came from a bottle. I know now what it must feel like if you could swim in my brother-in-law Keith's fish tank. (I've never seen a cleaner fish tank, by the way.) I kept thinking, if I could just catch that little fish I could take it back for Keith's tank. Illogical I know, but they were just so beautiful.




This morning I was reading in 1 Corinthians 15 and it was talking about the resurrection. Amazing. I thought of all the diverse things we had seen and experienced(swimming with dolphins!) on vacation and that is such a small speck of life that is in our world today. I can't imagine.

1 Corinthians 15:35-41 from the Message translations reads:

35-38Some skeptic is sure to ask, "Show me how resurrection works. Give me a diagram; draw me a picture. What does this 'resurrection body' look like?" If you look at this question closely, you realize how absurd it is. There are no diagrams for this kind of thing. We do have a parallel experience in gardening. You plant a "dead" seed; soon there is a flourishing plant. There is no visual likeness between seed and plant. You could never guess what a tomato would look like by looking at a tomato seed. What we plant in the soil and what grows out of it don't look anything alike. The dead body that we bury in the ground and the resurrection body that comes from it will be dramatically different.

39-41You will notice that the variety of bodies is stunning. Just as there are different kinds of seeds, there are different kinds of bodies—humans, animals, birds, fish—each unprecedented in its form. You get a hint at the diversity of resurrection glory by looking at the diversity of bodies not only on earth but in the skies—sun, moon, stars—all these varieties of beauty and brightness. And we're only looking at pre-resurrection "seeds"—who can imagine what the resurrection "plants" will be like!

Isn't that glorious! Praise God from whom all blessings flow, now and forever more.

I love English Gardens

I love English gardens. They are a combination of the civilized and the wild. One of my favorite pictures is a family heirloom of an old English garden. I am inspired and challenged by it each year as the weather warms. I have a hillside that is perfect for creating this garden of beauty, except for one problem. That hillside is also perfect for growing briers and rambling vines. For many years, I would get out on the hillside as soon as it was warm enough and begin to cut back the briers and vines and plant flowers, small trees, flowering plants, etc. It was a thing of wild beauty. It wasn’t long into the season however that it became more a wild wicked thing than a thing of beauty. The briers came back and brought some family with them. The vines seemed to delight in wrapping themselves around everything they touched, threatening to choke the life from the young plants. I would look at the tangled mess and give up, determined to do better next season. This pattern repeated itself for years, until finally I just gave up and conceded defeat.
I made a mistake year one, which I continued to make year after year. In my anxiousness to get started and see immediate results, I failed to lay the foundation for my garden. I didn’t put in the preparation necessary to realize the dream of a lasting English garden. Was it because I didn’t know how to prepare the ground? No, I had many people explain the steps to preparing for a successful garden. The problem was with myself. I wanted immediate results. Clipping back the briers and vines to the ground level was the immediate “fix” that made the temporary cosmetic changes I was looking for. I didn’t want to do the work necessary in order to make those cosmetic changes permanent. I didn’t take the time, or maybe I simply refused, to address the “root” problem.
As I think about my English garden dream, I am reminded of how much our life is like that hillside. We have an idea, a picture, of how we want our life and our relationship with the Lord to look. We try to achieve that picture, that relationship, by simply making temporary cosmetic changes that only affect the surface of who we are. The real work required to make the permanent, deep down to the marrow changes is long, difficult, and even painful. That level of difficulty and pain, or simply the fear of experiencing them, keeps us from getting in there and getting our hands dirty with some good old-fashioned hard work. Real changes require digging deep, below the surface, to our attitudes and beliefs that drive our actions. It requires digging up and cutting away the things that hinder the beauty that our Creator and the true Gardener wants to grow in our lives. That digging up and cutting away is almost always painful. It involves getting rid of things that our sinful nature would really like to hold onto. Things like pride, anger, hurt, worry, bitterness, and unforgiveness, just to name a few. Time spent addressing “root” issues is time eternally spent. It’s necessary for our growth. It is a slow and difficult process. It’s doesn’t just happen. We can’t expect to make those kinds of permanent changes with minimal work. It just doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t work that way on my hillside and it certainly doesn’t work that way in our lives. Don’t let the pain and difficulty scare you! The work is always worth that beauty that will come from it!

I was setting in Church yesterday morning next to my mom and I was thinking. I wanted to share this thought with her but since I can't, I will just share it here.
Mom, as I hear you singing here beside me today, I am carried back in time or maybe time just ceases to exist, or maybe this is a glimpse of what eternity is. Eternity, where the Holy Spirit fills up time, space, and memory, where we are transported out of the physical broken bodies and minds of the flesh and into the perfect, complete spiritual, eternal beings that we were created to be. The flesh and mind that has been ravaged by Alzheimer's disease drops away and the Spirit places a song on your lips-Your soul sings out- and it carries me back to younger days sitting beside you worshiping the Father together. Maybe it transports me forward into Heaven where we will gather around the throne worshiping our Savior. Whichever it may be, I am grateful and in awe of the gift of the present to listen to you, unhindered, worshiping Christ in song together. Thank you mom for your unwavering Spirit and testimony even in the midst of your Alzhiemers. Thank you Jesus for the gift of the Comforter who makes all things good...

Just sitting here listening to the rain, waiting on a phone call. Will she call? What will we say when we meet? When I lay down in bed tonight what memories will run through my mind? In anticipation I wait to see the outcome of the call of God. Listening to Him is easy, understanding Him...quite the opposite. The "Why" is uncertain but my obedience is certain. "For Your glory Father. May I live, breathe, and love others for Your glory."

Be still...Breathe in... Do you feel Him? Exhale... Let His Peace rush in and fill up your senses. Hosannah in the Highest. Who is there on earth like our God? It amazes me anew each day that I can cast all my cares on a loving God who loves and knows me so intimately that He is not shocked or angered by the depth of my frustrations and fears. But rather, He is present with words of peace to sooth my soul and refresh my mind and spirit defeating feelings that threaten to dry up my desire to reach out to those around me. I am ready once again to reach out to hurting people and allow the living water of Christ the King to flow through me.

Where do you go for refreshment?

I am sitting in the office, winding down for the day, finishing emails, sorting out my schedule for tomorrow. Everyone's gone home, all is quiet... except for the sound of soft singing coming from the front desk where my best friend waits patiently for me to finish. I think it must be one of the best sounds in the world. I love to hear my husband praising the Heavenly Father. What a great place to be, what a great man to have as my best friend.

Just Good People

When my children were little I worked with a school nurse named Gert Van Lent. Whenever anyone would ask her about her grown children or comment on something they had done, she would always answer with, "They are just good people." I always thought that was interesting to discuss your children with the eye of an adult friendship and not through the "eyes" of a "Mom". What does that have to do with the creation of this blog? Well, today I took some time to go on "three" of my "four" daughters' blog sites and I just want to say from woman to woman and friend to friend..."You ladies are just good people!" In fact to each of my children I want to say, "You are just good people!" I am so proud of the women and men God has surrounded me with.