small gifts

After reading my Dec post, I see that I blogged about the same thing in Feb. Clearly I needed to process that event twice in order to move on. So be it.

Last week my oldest daughter and I traveled home for a funeral in the family. My dad's oldest brother passed away. It was a somber event and yet I saw Jesus in many of my relatives and I had no idea anyone knew Him. It was so encouraging and sweet for me. What a gift.

But this time we needed to stay in a hotel. Dad prepared the house, but we just couldn't do it. It is so hard to be in the house now.

My daughter leaves for China soon and it was a chance for her to say good bye again to grandma. Before we left town we stopped by the house to see mom.

Please understand there is so little left now. No eye contact, no sense of the room, and consistent choking on her own saliva. It is so hard. But when my daughter sat next to her my mom started moving. She found my daughter's hand, pulled it to her heart and would not let it go.

We were undone.

I am undone right now just writing it.

One day when my daughter is older we will be able to process it all, but for now we are simply undone.

She is in there. She knows more than we understand.

She is still a gift to us, so we will enjoy what we can and remain faithful and thankful for the time we have left.

Thank you Jesus for small gifts and powerful memories of love that will never fade.

Amen.

How can this be?

Recently both my father and brother ended up in the hospital on the same day with heart related issues. Needless to say I dropped things and headed home for 48 hours. My father is the primary care giver. Who stays with my mom when he goes into the hospital? Our gracious and very kind care provider stayed the first night. She has been an angel to us and we are very thankful for her. But it gets very difficult at the end.

Now the focus is moving, feeding and cleaning.

My mother actually seems to be shriveling up as her muscles atrophy and her hands curl in. She aspirates quit often because she can barely remember to swallow now. She lost her days and nights awhile ago and though they maintain a clear routine for her, she is either lying in her bed or propped up on the couch. Sleep comes when it wants.

That is all there is now.

She has to have all the food pureed and thickened and spoon fed. And then there is the other end. In the one night I spent with her while dad was in the hospital, I got a peek into their world and thought "How can this be?" The body is on auto pilot with intake and output. The smell is crippling and yet it was a privilege to clean her up and change her linens. But my body aches for her release from this world.

So many days you look to the heavens and say "Why Jesus?" "Where are you and why let this go on?" We simply have no answers now. Perhaps someday we will. But not now.

So we wait and we remain faithful and we plan for all the scenarios that are ever changing. What if Dad dies first? How do we handle the house and the debt and what happens to mom? These seem like endless conversations. They drain the soul.

So we wait and we remain faithful while we watch the menagerie of birds in my parent's back yard. It is actually amazingly beautiful! 5o turkeys, a dozen squirrels, nut-hatchers, yellow finches, cardinals, red headed woodpeckers, black capped chickadees, and the list goes on.

So much life swirling around so much death.

Come Lord Jesus come.