ARE YOU MY MOTHER?

P.D. Eastman’s book “Are You My

Mother” is a tale of a newly hatched bird attempting to figure out who his mother is.  Not knowing what she looks like makes his adventure a challenge as he

is determined to find her.

I have often ask myself the same thing as my earlier years were spent at boarding school with haphazardly chosen house parents, often causing lengthy separation from both my parents and siblings.

In the 40’s young couples set out with lofty ambitions, boarding trains, ships, and planes to distant places, often devoid of the comforts and ease accustomed to fulfill the Great Commission.

It required a pioneer spirit and a willingness to endure physical and other hardships.  The lengthy separations were just accepted as part of the price.  Communication was painfully slow and often unreliable.  One of the heaviest burdens to bear was saying goodbye, always  a transient place where someone was always leaving or arriving.

I became emotionally disconnected from my parents at age six when I was sent away to begin my education.  I still loved and respected them, however, the emotional dependence was severed.
Don’t get me wrong, my parents did some miraculous  things but I lost the chance to have a close relationship with them, when sent away.

 The pressure  to be good for the sake of our parents ministry was strong, lifelong strain in relationships with family members became common.
 Deep connection to the country in which I spent my childhood, and the local people who were a part of my young years remains.
 I have warm memories of the food, the culture, the climate and vegetation.
My accent remains strong.
In truth, none of us were ever handed a perfect heritage.  Because our parents learning by doing and limited by their weaknesses did not always offer what was needed.  In light of those thoughts I do not want to be consumed with harboring negative thoughts or focusing on what could have been.  Missionary life is not what it used to be.

For the accounts of my first days of school click on link below.
Everybody has a Story, My Journey Part 2

DARKEST DAYS OF MY LIFE

Each Thanksgiving day I am reminded of one 45 years ago.  One that launched me into the darkest days of my life.

I was feeling at the top of my life.  I was in my last year of  Bible college and would be graduating that year and making plans for the future as newly engaged.   (Later on I learned I did not have all the credits I needed so would have to continue on another year.)
The day before had been a pleasant drive from Portland to Redding.  Although we shared the drive with another classmate, conversation led to many topics.  The mood was festive.
The next day, a fog settled in as preparations for Thanksgiving dinner were made at the home of my fiancees parents.  As I prepared for the day, I sensed a somewhat distant coldness that I had not felt before as I was greeted later that morning.  Before the dinner commenced, I was told that the engagement was off and accused of not being saved and being unfit.
I was left stunned and blindsided.

It took all to hold my despair at that moment.
I felt a swift-painful betrayal.  I slowly made my way back to the bedroom with tear-filled eyes.
I felt pulled and ripped apart attempting to make sense out of the words I had just heard.
I felt like everything was being taken away from me even my salvation.
I somehow forced myself to integrate my thoughts by this disturbing event and stoically went back out to join the family and proceed with much silence through out the day just wishing to get it over. 
Silence ruled the trip back to school as our classmate slept in the back seat of that cramped VW bug.  The atmosphere was suffocating.  I felt like a dish rag that had just been thrown away.
For a year black days sent me into an emotional tail spin. My health was affected.  My faith was tested.  All that I had hoped for and dreamed of was gone.
Amidst this sudden and dramatic event that filled me with overwhelming sadness, I was aware of God’s strength.  God’s word anchored me and continually guided me.
Even though there was still  hurt, and pain, just knowing that God’s love  and presence were available provided comfort.
Just knowing that God held me in the midst of this storm and was sharing my journey strengthened me.
During this tough time it was difficult to grasp the fact that God knew what was going on and had OTHER plans for me.

Forging-my-way-through-1971  CLICK HERE

MY MOST INSANE DAYS: MY RAINBOW BABY #1

The day I became a mother to an incredibly, spirited active toddler son ,was the beginning of some of the most insane days of my life.
It was then, I realized how much I had enjoyed the more peaceful, quiet times I had with my two year old daughter.
It all began with the conflicting feelings and happiness that come after having lost the previous pregnancy and expecting a colorful and bright future with this one.
Beautiful and bright rainbows follow storms, giving hope that it would be better, and bring on extraordinary amount of blessings.  He was one of my rainbow babies.

One incredible March afternoon, the mid wife arrived to our single-story, boxy, brick front, and ordinary functional house, in a van.  She was a petite, slightly older lady with excellent skills in delivery.           

As she was pulling herself together and gathering up the needed articles for the work at hand, it was discovered that her bag of essentials was buried at the bottom of a stack of doors she had salvaged.  Our neighbor graciously assisted her by taking out the stack of doors to retrieve her bag.

Our big, 9 lbs.11 oz bundle of creative trouble found his world extremely exhilarating from the start, finding many ways to excite me.
At nine months he was walking and running around, being intently curious and was everywhere attempting to enjoy exploring on his own.
  He was inexplicably drawn to his daddy’s tool box.  Nothing was safe.  The refrigerator was the only place he had not learned to climb.  He was very busy, however, all this physical activity eventually faded and gravitated in favor of worthwhile pursuits.

Even when he was three, he felt the thrill of excitement, oblivious to the fact that he was contributing to a mothers worst nightmare, he set out on his own while on a camping trip and was no where to be found for one of those gone too long times.
  My mind was racing with all sorts of scenarios but God was gracious and allowed him back to us after he had hiked to the other side of the camp ground.

There are many nights, I am left with wonder and thankfulness for this extraordinary gift, my first rainbow baby.

AN EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCE

The day began as any other except for the fact that I was due to fly back home after an extended stay after caring for my father in Auburn.
I was unusually quiet as the Jeep Cherokee pulled up to the airport drop off.  I gave my son a quick hug as he pulled out my luggage and then drove away.
I continued my walk toward the terminal to check in.  The smell of jet fuel permeated the air as I made my way into the building to join a long line at the security check point.
I was randomly selected for a more thorough search of my bag and pulled aside.  The excitement and anticipation of my flight home was dampened a tad by that small event as I heard the whir of wheels on the long concourse by all the others making their way to their flights.
Making my way to the waiting area, a glance out the windows informed me that the skies were beginning to darken. It was obvious it was about to rain.
I made my way to a seat facing the large window to await my flight.  I watched as the planes came in and were then prepared for their next flight.
As I ate a snack I continued to watch the activity down below on the tarmac until our flight was called and joined the line to board.
As we were boarding, torrents of rain ran down the sides of the windows. 
 As I searched for my close to window seat, the skies grew even darker.  It never came to mind that perhaps it was an unsafe time to fly. 

 The others seemed not to really care or perhaps had been to busy trying to situate themselves in their seats and search for empty spots in the over head luggage compartments that they perhaps had not taken notice of the outside conditions.  Upon settling into their seats they appeared to be lost in thought.
As I looked out the small window, we began to taxi out to the runway.  The flight attendant gave her standard pre flight procedure lecture to which most appear to be bored, perhaps with the familiarity of many previous flights. 
 The seat next to me remained empty and the young girl in the next seat engrossed in a book.
In a few minutes we found ourselves at the end of the runway prepared for take off.
The skies continued to darken and the rain was pummeling the plane.
As the plane took off it propelled us further into that storm.  A few minutes in the air and before cruising altitude an extraordinary thing happened.
As I was intently looking out the window to my right and over the wing, I watched a bolt of lightening shoot straight at me across the wing.  I sat there, motionless just as
the zig of the bolt zagged striking the wing just before it reached me. Bang! The plane shuttered.  I was awe-struck at seeing that bolt of lightening diverted, striking the wing, leaving a large blackened mark where it had struck.
  Surprisingly I was not frightened, I, thought at that moment that I would be in Heaven in the next few seconds, and the comfort it gave me was surreal, as the feeling of morphine kicking in for the first time ever.
A few minutes later, the pilot calmly confirmed that we had been struck by lightening and had been advised to continue on to Burbank.
 That day I was reminded of God's loving protection over me during that storm and through all storms of life.
 

 
 
 
 

FEELINGS OF DESPAIR

Still trying to digest this mornings devotional  and reflect on this exquisite story. Getting excited about something I have heard many, many times in my life yet heard from others perspectives brings new meaning to this unique SEASON in the life of the women mentioned in the book of Ruth.
So many timely truths, yet such a dark depressive time in history.  So many circumstances in the narrative that could apply to our continuum in life.
Amidst all the chaotic time in Israel’s history and the moral fabric of Israel unraveling a focus on three women in a culture dominated by a patriarchal system sets the drama.
A dramatic move to Moab is initiated by Naomi’s husband, relocating for a SEASON of time in a land that was hostile toward their own people, until his untimely death.

Precipitated perhaps by this turn of events and feeling the stress and pressures of loosing, not only her husband but also her two sons in a culture that depended on the head of the household to provide and protect,  she makes a dramatic move back home, with a daughter-in-law that wants to minister to her and travel back with her.

Upon arrival back home, Naomi responds with negativity toward the circumstances that God allowed to happen.  From her perspective every security in her life has been taken, for all intense and purposes she had lost hope and  resorted to bitterness.
From her perspective one could imagine the feelings of despair, loneliness, anger, fear, and anxiousness about the events unfolding in her life, changing her name to reflect her life.

The daughter-in-law responds with love and a resolve to care for her and be there with her and to minister to a person in this condition.
Yet, the question stands:  “How do you combat feelings of bitterness?”
Try not to stay in that frame of mind.
Count your blessings.
Go over who God is.
Contemplate on what God has been trying to do in your life.
God uses us in spite of our decisions.
God’s redemptive mercy finds those in greatest needs and with incredible joy, praise, and hope, uses this family illustration of how God intervenes to set the stage, establishing a genealogy through pagan women of redemptive quality in the eventual story leading up to the birth of Christ.
How is God setting the stage in your life?
Are you studying the Word because you want to understand God’s character?
While interacting with God’s Word do we  submit to change? Do we see God working in this narrative as well as our own stories.

We look forward to more adventures in the book of Ruth through our monthly devotionals at our AD Support get togethers.

GOOD GRIEF!

David Brannon is one of my favorite devotionalists for as long as he has been contributing to the Daily Bread.
I really appreciate his perspective on young death.
So I thought it might be encouraging for others to read also.

YOUNG DEATH        
"I never planned to have valleys on the topographical map of my life. My map, as I saw it, would always consist of the high road. The smooth road. The pathway lit up by God’s love and decorated with His gift of the abundant life. It was to be the journey of the trying-to-be-godly-but-appreciating-a-forgiving-God Christian. The walk of a trusting believer.
Yet here I am, still surprised and shocked to be walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
The way I figured it, my wife and I would raise our four kids in the way they should go, and when we were old, they would all be there to take care of us.
Yet on a gorgeous Michigan spring night in June 2002, our lives veered off the path we thought would be ours for the rest of our time on earth. We careened off that pathway and went straight into the valley—an unfamiliar, dark, and deep ravine of near hopelessness.
Melissa was at a cottage on Lake Michigan with some school friends where the parents hosted an end-of-school party of pizza, jet-skiing, and just good times. Melissa had called her mom at eight o’clock to tell us she would be on her way home with her boyfriend, Jordan, at nine.
But on their way home that night, traveling on an unfamiliar road, Jordan pulled his car into an intersection—where it was hit broadside by another teen driver.
Melissa, our seventeen-year-old daughter and sister—a girl who loved to cook odd concoctions in the kitchen, who never liked to be idle for a minute, who played varsity football and volleyball, who had a solid though not flashy life for Jesus, who was a bright light of joy and love to her many friends at school and church, and who had grown from a frightened little preschooler into a self-confident teen—was killed instantly.
Our family was plunged into a new existence. Now the mountaintop was so far away we couldn’t see it.
Have you ever been in the valley? The valley that comes with life’s troubles and pain? If so, or if you have ever walked with those who dwell in its misty atmosphere, I invite you to walk along with me for a while. Beyond the Valley grew out of my own spiritual journey and my desire to provide spiritual help for the hurting.
What’s behind it . . .
It’s funny how your perspective changes when you get older.
When I was a teenager, a friend of mine was killed by a tornado that hit her house. As I think back to that time, I don’t recall thinking much about her parents and what it must have been like to lose a teenage daughter. I thought more about the loss in light of being her friend and about how it affected other kids my age. I remember feeling really bad for her sister too.
But I don’t think it dawned on me to consider the effect the loss of a young person had on her mom and dad. I’m not sure if they are still alive, but I know now that if they are, every day is another reminder of that tragedy that took place in the 1960s.
A young death affects many people because it is so out of order, because of what it robs from a family, and because it is life-changing for those left in the wake.
I now know more about this than I ever wanted to. I wish I had understood it those long years ago.
God’s Word on it . . .
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” (Psalm 116:15).
Serious contemplation . . .
Long before death visited our family, we were deeply affected by the story of a young couple we knew. Back when our children were young and we were still marveling in God’s miraculous provision of them in our family, we watched at a bit of a distance as a young man and his wife suffered through the deaths of not one, not two, but three newborns.
Three times they waited out the anticipation of pregnancy only to be left eventually with a coffin, not a nursery. Three times a child was born. Three times a child died.
And finally, the babies stopped coming.
This couple’s life, it turned out, would be lived with only lost dreams and shattered hopes of the terrible twos, preschool, elementary school grandparents’ days, middle school trials, high school excitement, graduation, college, marriage, and grand parenthood. It’s the life of the unfulfilled dream. I think, too, of another member of our family—my wife’s sister, Mary. At about the same time that young couple was devastated by their unspeakable trio of losses, our family was reeling from the death of my sister-in-law’s little girl. Even before Mindy was born into a life that would span hours, not weeks, we knew something was terribly wrong with her. Her survival was questionable.
Yet when Mindy died, the grief was unimaginable for our family. I’ll never forget looking at that tiny casket and wondering why we have to make death provisions for little angels like Mindy.
A little while later, Melissa was born, and we celebrated her life. While Mindy’s mom, Aunt Mary, slogged through each day wondering about the “what ifs” and the “what would be happening now” of a Mindy she hardly knew, we were able to enjoy Melissa and watch her grow and learn, laugh, and love.
Young death. It forces young parents into an existence of watching other little boys’ and girls’ life celebrations. Empty arms reach into the darkness. Empty hearts yearn for the tiny touch of those little hands. Empty ears strain to hear again that hearty cry of a child in need of Mom or Dad.
Those three little babies. Mindy. Melissa. And so many other little ones, middle ones, and teenage ones. Precious children of brokenhearted parents—parents robbed of growing-up experiences and the culmination of a lifetime of training.
But all wondering the same thing: Why was my child conceived only to be taken early—leaving me with a pain that cannot be healed, tears that cannot be stopped, a loneliness that cannot be assuaged?
Except for several important truths—except for one God-directed reality—this venture into grief would be a dark journey into hopelessness. And these are the truths: God is in control; He cares for grieving parents more than they can imagine; and He has a difficult yet vital, viable favor to ask.
No death, no matter how tragic and incomprehensible to us, falls outside God’s sovereign control. As the Author of life and the Superintendent of our days, He alone has the right over the number of those days.
No death is capricious or unremarkable in God’s eyes. Each reminds us of His role as the God of all comfort, and each places on us a responsibility to transfer to others the comfort He provides us.
Grieving parents are asked, amidst their difficult circumstances, to become comforters-in-training—taking what they learned from the God of all comfort and using it to surround other sorrowing souls with a divine measure of care. Those who suffer young death simply have a longer time to receive God’s care, a more extended training session, and an extended lifetime of helping others in need.
It’s the job no one volunteers for and no one wants. Yet it is most noble. Because life is what it is and because God’s plan calls for people to carry out some of the Heavenly Father’s most honored tasks, those who have lost children are equipped in God’s school of comfort-giving to pass along their lessons to those who follow their trail of tears.
Young death is a terrible reality. But from that reality comes an empathy, a compassion, and a knowledge that is best used when directed toward helping others in distress.
Somehow, the death of a saint is blessed in God’s eyes. Somehow, God comforts those who suffer that loss. And somehow, we who have walked the dark pathway of death must find it in our hearts to light the way for those who follow.
This is why I write about Melissa—knowing that our story will be the experience of others and God’s hope will need to be conveyed. We learned from watching our young friends who lost three little ones. We learned from Mindy’s parents. And now it’s our turn to pass God’s comfort along to others.
Reflection . . .
Have you been around a family that lost a young child? Don’t forget them. Send them cards. Send them e-mails. Especially remember the anniversary date of the death. Keep this in mind: They will never get over that loss. They move on, but they will never move past it.
When you read reports about young death in the newspaper, make it a habit to pray for those families.
Dave Branon is an editor for Discovery House Publishers and Radio Bible Class Ministries and is a popular contributor to Our Daily Bread. He is a member of Trinity Baptist Church, Grand Rapids, Mich. Dave has written over 2,000 devotional articles and 14 books, and was formerly the editor of Sports Spectrum magazine.
Posted in All Current Issue Posts, The Baptist Bulletin Magazine on September 3, 2010.

TREASURES

Grand children are such a blessing.

THE BEST ROADS ARE DIRT

One late sunny afternoon, I found myself meandering up and down a road less traveled, a logging road above the mountains from the camp my son worked at.
  Intent on showing me the spectacular view, we pressed on, the paved asphalt road gave way to gravel, then to graded dirt, somewhat maintained to a well eroded rutted 2 track trail.  We paused to take in the view of the lake and camp far below, only to continue up, steep mountains on the side.

As the road gave in to ruts and loose stones, we pressed on in his 4Wheel drive Jeep Cherokee, climbing what seemed like boulders and very steep inclines.  I practically begging to go back as the road got worse.  He silently pressed on ignoring my pleas as memories of bone jarring, 2 track trail roads in the outbacks of Mexico in our  4 W. drive Willy’s Jeep and later the Land Rover came to mind.  My body begged to be released from all the movement and thrashing back and forth as I sat in the passenger seat.
Hardly a time to quiet the mind and take it all in.
The road less traveled, the best roads are dirt.  Yep, cause there are tons of natural beauty.
As we rambled along, the beauty was inescapable, every meadow, every wild flower, the blue skies.  It was impressive!
After what seemed like forever, we reached a steep incline that took two running starts to get to the top.

As we reached the summit, we abruptly came to a stop at the edge of an incredible, stunning view of the North Fork of the American River, the end of the road.
I was at awe as I now understood that he wanted me to experience this awesome view.  We did not linger long as the shadows of evening were beginning to descend and I was anxious to get back onto at least the gravel road before it got dark.  The sun was beginning to disappear.

This memory is forever etched in my mind as I think of one of my favorite poems THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED.
Sometimes the Lord leads and guides on roads less traveled to impress upon our minds the majestic view of his character.
My son knew where he was going and what lay ahead in this adventure while I did not.  The further we traveled on this well eroded, rutted what was little semblance of a road began to get me a little worried and anxious and sometimes life is like that.

That bone jarring ride left my body aching for several days but it was well worth every minute of it.
So what started out with “Hey, Mom, you want to go for a ride?”  ended with memories of that incredible view at the top.  “Hey, Son, I’ll see you at the finish line!”

My Rainbow-baby CLICK HERE
A-sadness-creeps-over-me-as-i-watch CLICK HERE
Caught-unprepared-feeling-of-horrible disbelief CLICK HERE
Good-grief, when the unthinkable happens CLICK HERE

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK: The Travel Bible

Yesterday, I was surprised by the discovery that my father had my mother's Spanish Bible on the night stand with all the other Bibles and devotionals.

He told how this Bible was the one she carried around everywhere when they traveled and went to services with her, although she had other Bibles, one in each room.

As he tenderly and reverently fingered it he wistfully added how she had been such a helper to him and been so faithful in her service on the mission field even though it was tough and at times wished they were still there.
As in her other Bible of which I spoke of in a previous blog, she had notes, quotes, and poems, and various verses underlined in various passages, some in English and many in Spanish.  She had become very fluent in Spanish after many years on the mission field.

In Mother's own handwriting

"This is the life for me! I pray God will keep my feet to this fire.  I pray Christ will put up with me on the firing line of foreign missions.  I want only that He keep us where the action is, where things are tough, where grace is great.  Where things come hard, but they come of your own faith and work.  Where you stand, not on another's foundation, but on the one you laid.  Where you feed, not as a parasite upon the labors of others, but as one who treads the grain himself." " THIS IS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT MISSIONARY LIFE!"
Whether she borrowed the above quote or not, I am inclined to believe that she summed up in her own words that last quote.

 So here, her Bible is in my hands and I am reflecting on how battered and torn and well used it was to bring the gospel to those she encountered in her music and Bible classes or administering medication to those who came for physical help and to leave with spiritual help also.
Let me close by quoting the words from a song that I keep in my Bible:
Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful,
May the fire of our devotion light their way.
May the footprints that we leave lead them to believe,
And the lives we live inspire them to obey.
Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful.
After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone,
And our children sift through all we've left behind,
May the clues that they discover and the memories they uncover
Become the light that leads them to the road we each must find.

The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives.

OPEN LETTER TO MYSELF

I was recently going through the pockets of my Bible cover and discovered this open letter to myself dated June 20, 1998 which began as a target to a  specific audience.

It reminded me of some of the difficult issues I was facing during that time in my life that were not so pleasant.


Dear Self;
I am again amazed at the role "patience" should have in my life.
How impatient I can be while waiting for a husband or a child who is taking longer to yield to God or a brother or sister who causes our hearts to break.
I have been impressed with William Barclay's  statement that "Generally speaking the word is not used of patience in the regard to things or events but in regards to people."
How easy it is to get caught up in impatience and anxious attitudes.  After all it is my sinful nature.  Showing patience has been an everyday struggle, yet I am called to "put on a heart of...patience" Col.3:12 and I am "to walk"...with patience"  Eph.4:1,2.
May I learn to use these times to pray, reflect, and plan my response in a godly manner.
Please do not allow your prayers to languish on my behalf!  God IS working in my life.  Please continue to pray that I will make every effort to follow through on what God would have me do.
I hesitate in sharing as to what the Lord is accomplishing yet out of gratefulness toward your prayers, I feel it essential for encouragement.  What a reminder to the awesome power of bringing my requests to God and being granted answers.
I marvel at how unique we all are in our thought process and in our way of handling life's situations yet if we allow sin to settle in our hearts it affects us all in the same way.
When I request prayer, I better be prepared for greater growth!
 I better be prepared for evaluating many visiting issues!  I better be prepared for CHANGE.
I had been so overwhelmed and frustrated by what I could not do instead of what I could do.
Another look at that "Proverbs 31 woman" and I threw my hands in despair "Lord" I said "I am overwhelmed and I can't do this on my own".
God's reminder came again through Ps.46:10, "Be still (QUIET! TIME OUT!, STOP-Striving and KNOW THAT I AM GOD!"
I had to again remind myself "Yes, Lord, you are firmly in control when all else indicates otherwise."

I was alerted to my reluctance in fulfilling some of my responsibilities and reaffirming my commitment to my husband.
Some "first" delights were rekindled, however, there is still the struggle with a tendency to submit to "old ways"--to expect/demand that one function at a more mature level with perhaps capabilities that are not as developed as mine.  Yet should I be expecting more because God's standards are higher?
Yes, I struggle with occasions of discouragement yet God has promised strength, Phil.4:13.
In my effort to fight complacency may I dissolve any appearance of "self-sufficient" attitudes.  The Christian life is not passive!  Yet I struggle with the wanting the "easy way out" if I can find it.
Why does the growth I thought had occured seem to vanish like vapor?
Why do I desire relief from God's discipline instead of seeking to profit from it?
Why do I fail to respond to difficulties in a "God-honoring" way?
PRAY that I would pour my spiritual energies into what is true fruit.
PRAY that I will not become complacent; now is not the time or will it ever be.  May I never have the attitude that "I have arrived" and so feel because of my age that there is NO MORE ROOM FOR GROWTH.
PRAY that I would not lose my sensitivity to what IS sin, to tolerate it or even accept it!
I appreciate you "younger" people because you are an encouragement and a challenge to me to keep on the right path, for your strengths and knowledge of God's Word.  What a responsibility. 
May you continue to show others what God's Word says and how it applies to your situations and issues in life.
I appreciate you even "older" people because of your timely wisdom.
May we all grow in the direction of being more concerned for God's glory.
Becky
 

GCC Alzheimer's Ministry Update

Alzheimer's Ministry Update

We focused on God’s omniscience this morning.
How can knowing this attribute be an encouragement?
>He is our own personal Savior.
>He is gracious and forgiving...
>He tolerates us
>Nothing about us is a surprise to him
>He knows we will have a bad day
>We have very busy lives and tend to forget
Him but He does not forget us.

As we think of our day, it is a comfort to know
God is there and actively involved.
When do we tend not to think about God?
>When we are tired
>When things are going well
>When we are overworked
>When we are to sick
>When we sin.
God uses trials to get His work done.

Reminiscing With Dad: Zapotitlan de Mendez

So this morning on my walk with Dad, our conversation drifted to the topic, caves, and he was describing this grotto near where we lived in Mexico in the late 40's, early 50's.
 I was not as appreciative of the beauty of the 
 country which we lived in until now.
We lived in the shadow of that catholic church you see in the video and the antique bridge which still look the same as it did when we lived there.  I am sure that Dad has many other stories of those years, in this village.
Of course when we lived there, this village was very remote, with no roads for vehicles.  We traveled by foot, horse, or mule, or on someones back like I did when I was small. The people, here, were resistant to the gospel and on occasion our lives were threatened.  Dad was advised to leave for a period of time but left my mother, me, and my brother in the village for about a month until things cooled down.
He was assured that his family would not be harmed and God protected us during this time.

A SADNESS CREEPS OVER ME

A sadness creeps over me as I watch the accomplishments and family events occurring in my friends lives, a loss of future experiences for me, as I ponder moments of my son’s absence.
The emotional toll of watching his friends getting married and having children.

 The little moments that remind me of him.  In the midst of this I am more aware of the moments that we no longer have but treasure the moments we did.
It is an emotional roller coaster and I never know how I am going to feel in the next moment even though it has been over a year.

As a mother, I wish, I had been with him that one last time.
Even in his last moments, alone, I am comforted by the fact that God WAS there with him.In the midst of all this I am painfully aware to “guard my heart from negative invasions” that cause me to question God’s love,
to question His sovereignty.
My perception of life has changed.  What was important in the past doesn’t mean as much.
Scriptures and history remind me that I am an immigrant here on earth.  That status remains the same.  My journey has been long and sometimes perilous, but rich and rewarding.  I am just passing through.


“We are here for only a moment, visitors and strangers in the land as our ancestors were before us. Our days on earth are like a passing shadow, gone so soon without a trace.”
I Chronicles 29:15   LL

One of my most treasured memories with my son was a walk on the Donner Memorial State Park Nature Trail.  Little did we both know that it would be one of the last.
It was a quiet, serene, pleasant walk and I enjoyed it very much.  We paused on the bridge to watch the flowing water, trout and schools of minnows and marveled at all the green around.  I captured a moment of him in his usual, pensive, observant stance and snapped a picture.
He in turn captured one of me as we turned to walk up the thin trail, lined with various signs of God’s creation.
My thoughts turned to how pleasant the surroundings to that of the Donner Party of whom many died in such a place in pursuit of their dreams to journey west.
They were just passing through too.
My immigration status:  Just passing through.

The-best-roads-are-dirt  CLICK HERE
Caught-unprepared-feeling-of-horrible. CLICK HERE

WHERE WAS I ?

“Where was I?”  “Where am I now?”

“Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet I have never seen the godly abandoned or their children begging for bread.”  Psalm 37:25

I will be 66, August 25th.

My life is a bit more of a mess than I would ever have imagined years ago that I would be in this season of life.

I feel like life is sometimes and more often overwhelming-challenging-heartbreaking all the while being encouraging and inspiring.

Life has turned out very different than I had hoped for.  It is telling me it’s OK to feel like you’re falling apart, because in so many ways I am.  I tend to forget that I live in a fallen world.  I am part of the truth and reality of the fall.  I have been experiencing body decline.

“ I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.  For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope  that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.”  Romans 8:18-20

I am constantly reminding myself to surrender to the concept that God is amazingly in control of my life.
So with that in mind, I should not miss the should’ves, could’ves,would’ves in life.
Life is never the same.

“Every day has been under God’s wise and careful administration”  in spite of the choices I have made.

“all the days ordained for me were written in your book".  Psalm 139:16

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:28

6 Warnings From an Outsider

About Mennonites: 6 Warnings From an Outsider. | LateToEveryParty

I thought this was a very amusing blog post and being that my fathers side of the family comes from good Mennonite stock, I could relate to some of this.  I could not resist sharing it.  Most of our family settled in Kansas, although my grandmother was born in one of the Dakotas.



"Everyone sings and plays some
kind of instrument. They are infinitely better than you and all of your
non-Mennonite friends. I’m convinced it’s something to do with their
mutated genetics. Mutations resulting from surviving in subzero
temperatures on borscht for centuries. They sing at the family
gatherings, they sing their prayers, they sing for everything. Face the
music – you are marrying the Sasquatch version of the Von Trapps. If you
don’t sing or play anything, it’s time to learn something. FAST.


* Tip: If you’re not musically gifted and my theory is sound, eat borscht and pray for talent.


Take a deep breath and realize your family is equally as crazy. There
are just a lot less of them. Congrats! You are so blessed to be
marrying into a huge, loving, musical, close, beautiful and crazy
sasquatch-family!"

Care Giving: THE ART OF ADAPTING

One of the things I learned quickly in care giving was the art of adapting.There comes a time when a loved one no longer has the ability to summon for help or function in our perceived normal.

After driving myself crazy running back and forth down a long hallway to check-up on a loved one, I was prompted to purchase a baby monitor.
During wheelchair joy rides to the front door in the wee hours of the morning to trips made to the closet for Sunday clothes every night, this became very useful.
When it became necessary to add 24 hr. care and it became necessary to be alerted to many other odd behaviors at night, we pinned those Christmas jingle bells to the covers or sheets in unreachable, difficult areas.  During the day, a cluster of jingle bells dangled from the handles of the wheelchair.  The monitor would pick up these alerts in another room.

REMINDER:
So keep alert!  
Eph.6:18
"Praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints."

MY LADY: Care Giving With MUSIC

Care giving is like classical music.

Now why would I tend to think that?

I am quite musically challenged and can not read music, let alone pronounce the titles to some. I am still not to fond of classical music, however, during those five years, I gained more of an appreciation for it and those who play an instrument or sing.
Prior to care giving of My Lady, I knew very little about classical music.( I am listening to classical music as I write this) I am drawn to memories of those five years that I cared for My Lady.
She was an avid musician and could recognize a piece of music within seconds of hearing the beginning of a piece.
  We used to play this little game of which I would play ,from a CD, a piece and see how fast she could tell me what it was. (At first & middle stages of AD)

She played the piano almost to the end, albeit, with “mistakes” that became more frequent as the disease advanced.

It gave her much joy and when these little episodes of mistakes occurred, she would cheerfully declare that she just needed to practice more.

Ponchielli: La Gioconda-Dance of the Hours is a long song of almost 8 min. with ups & downs, and loudness to soft and smacks of carnival music that I believe truly expresses my care giving journey.    This piece was used in Disney’s Fantasia, one of my favorites.

The Opera’s title translates as THE HAPPY WOMAN, but is usually given in English as THE BALLAD SINGER.  The story revolves around a woman, Gioconda, who loves her mother in the 17th century.
  Well, I won’t go into the rest of the story.  Just Google it if you are interested.

My goal for this post is to encourage you to explore music with your Loved Ones.  Make it part of your care routine.  Use it creatively to motivate your Loved One into action on some particular activity.

CARE GIVING: Cell Phone Use while on the job.

 
 Several elements about cell phone use while on a care giving assignments.

• "The caregiver is distracted by the phone call or the text. This is time you are paying for, but more importantly, during this time of distraction, your loved one could fall, take the wrong medication or just plain feel lonely and left out."
• "Many elders have hearing problems. They may think the carer is talking to them and get confused when they respond and don't get an answer."
• "Someone with dementia may become paranoid. They hear a person talking to someone who isn't there. This can lead the person with dementia to wonder who else is in the house and become an issue that lasts far longer than the phone call by the carer"

Ask Agencies about Cell Phone Policy Use 


 Add to your list of questions when interviewing a care agency, a question about cell phone use policy. A good agency should have one in place. If they do not and you bring it up, they should be honest and say there isn't one but there should be a policy by the time your loved one is added to their agency care list.

One of the complaints I had while managing care for family members was about cell use.  It can be very annoying to hear someone in the wee hours happily talking to someone in another country in a language you do not understand.

CHOOSING LYRICS & CARE GIVERS

I am musing on the fact that I enjoy Mariachi music.

  Why?
Perhaps because it moves me, stirring up certain emotions of happiness, sadness, and a rebellious sort of mood.
It conjures up memories of my earlier years,  of being woken up with the sounds of  “Las Mananitas” in the early morning, a traditional song used to celebrate birthdays. 

My Lady

The lyrics frequently describe country life and people of a particular region.  They often celebrate moments in the lives of the Mexican people.
Unlike other music, they do not have a lead singer.  Each singer is assigned a different song based on their talents.
Music, unlike any other activity, lightens and brightens the burdens of care giving.  Each care giver is assigned a different care talent and brings into the care equivalent a different perspective.  The tendency to have to high of expectancies can be a hindrance in the selection.   That can be good or bad.
A good grasp of a language that I understand is very important.  I often ask to speak to some one who’s American English  I understand.  With poor hearing, struggling with comprehension, and loss of cognitive abilities this is high on my list.
On the occasions where language has been an issue, then writing detailed instructions and requiring log entries will help.
I choose my lyrics with care.  It may not sound like a Mariachi concert but my singers will come with all sorts of unforeseen talents and blessings.

ALZHEIMER'S~ How Heavy Is Your Bag?

HOW HEAVY IS YOUR BAG?

I have decided that I need a new bag.  The looks of my present bag confirms that fact.
Becoming a care giver gives new meaning to the word “bag” and new meaning to the words “be prepared”.

As life changes, so does the contents of my bags.  Knowing the essentials to place in my bag helps me feel more comfortable in any situation.
Unexpected events will happen!  Plan on it!
What do I place in my care giving bag?
There is always the basic original items that may be needed depending on the needs and a few other things to make the adventure more comfortable:

Extra personal items
Tissues and wet wipes
Cloth drool wipers

Healthy snacks
Hand sanitizer
Mad money
Small bottles of water that can fit in your bag without taking up a lot of room or weighing it down.

So no matter what the size or shape of my bag, it is the contents and the way I carry it that makes a difference.
Be equipped to leave home by placing your bag somewhere by the front door.  There is no need to pack each time.  Be prepared!

ALZHEIMER'S: SWITCHING GEARS

LET’S SWITCH GEARS
My co-care giving husband often said to Gary “Switch Gears, Gary!”

 In awkward positions of resistance in public places, many times found us searching for ways to entice him back in to the car after an adventure.  The expression, to “Switch gears” became our motto.
Now if you can imagine trying to back up into a tight squeeze spot with the front facing out.  Now imagine an old lady trying to do it with many tries.

Most often “switching gears” meant
 change of speed, direction and backing up, walking around the car, turning the music on, and trying again just to get into the car.
We fight changes of speed, changes in direction,  In Alzheimer’s there is no backing up to what it was like.  They will never come back to our world so to keep sanity park in theirs.

Alzheimer's? You're Asking Me?

I was recently asked to consider writing a “corner” of vignettes for our Alzheimer’s Support newsletter at church.  The goal being to draw upon my nine years of Alzheimer’s care giving experiences.
My first inclination was to decline, however, as my thoughts drifted toward the journeys, and adventures I have had and what blessings they have been, I thought it best to reconsider.
I have blogged about many of these adventures in past blogs, however, I will attempt somehow to invite you to read between the lines so to speak and perhaps give you more of a picture of the drama and challenges that may occur behind the care giving journey.
I have also been considering as to the content, drawing from my experiences and observations, and repetitive questions (Not from Loved Ones) raised during our support meetings.
This will be a challenge to me because it will require me to decide on what would be most helpful to my audience.  Some of them will be on the practical side of care giving and little helps here and there as to making it a little easier and perhaps touching on some behavior issues.
As my thoughts continued to sift through as to what my first blog (I guess this is my first blog) on this particular topic would be, I was considering which specific part of care giving is on my top priority list for today.
I came up again with the topic of walking, running a race and preparing for it.
Care giving is not a sprint either.  It IS a marathon!  It IS a relay race!A mistake in care giving is the tendency to jump into the race after a few calls from the emergency room or a diagnosis and get caught in emotional drama.
“It is wise to pace your-self--ASK FOR HELP,  and look at the big picture and make short and long-range plans.”
Once you have reached out attempt to accept that help.  You have no idea how it will all work out.  Time and time again I have observed those who are too proud to ask or accept help or advice that would make things simpler for them, sending one to the burn out zone or denying a blessing to those who have time to devote to your family.  And yes, I have been turned down many times too.
So it looks like as I just randomly pull my thoughts together, the first focus is on ones attitude and drama that one will face, and the family will face it sooner or later.
When the five minute terror of that diagnosis hits you that your loved one has Alzheimer's, YOU WILL NEED SUPPORT!

The word SUPPORT denotes the idea to “bear the weight of especially below, keep from falling, sinking or slipping, give confidence and comfort”.
Putting it bluntly, the care giver can have more issues with the family than the actual loved one has in some cases.  I fortunately have had care giving positions for very loving and appreciative families in the past, for which I am grateful.

The Church Faces up to Alzheimer's and Dementia | Grace Community Church

The Church Faces up to Alzheimer's and Dementia | Grace Community Church

CARE GIVER JOURNEY: Oo-De-Lally Day

CARE GIVER JOURNEY:
Oo-De-Lally, what a day!!

As I was listening to this song from the Disney movie, Robin Hood, and watching these two “merry men” I got to contemplating as to what exactly was meant by “merry men” and found it to be a term for any follower or companion of an outlaw.
Not in the terms of outlaws, these two defy anything that smacks of normal, what ever that is.  As one perhaps ends his journey another one may be beginning.
One I have known intimately for 40 yrs. and the other for three yrs. of care giving, and about 30 yrs. of acquaintance as he guided my “merry” man in re-wiring the electrical at our house years ago.
These two “merry men” kept me moving
Care giving is a very rewarding but stressful life.

A piece of advice:  “Don’t fall into LONE-SOLDIER” mode.  Gather up your “merry men”, saddle up and call on the posse.  Accept help.

The 7 Stages of Alzheimer's Disease Through a Caregiver's Eyes

A CAREGIVERS JOURNEY and Welcomed Surprises

A CARE GIVERS JOURNEY: Welcomed Surprises?


Welcomed surprises or not?
Some welcomed surprises come when least expected and if pictures are worth a thousand words then let me explain that my co-care giver, my husband, had a knack for catching me in not so gracious and anxious moments.
He managed to capture moments of a physically tired care giver who was mentally and emotionally exhausted from managing our adventures.
I will be the first to admit to my shortcomings and to witness the predictably unpredictable in my companions of the day.
When my body was screaming sit down and rest my loved ones were rapidly forging on ahead at a pace I found difficult to keep and maintain. the pace they had set, each one of us with a goal in mind.  Be it to get on with the adventure or search for a place to rest.
 The calm, quiet, serene surroundings of Friendly Valley with a view of the golf course were a perfect back drop for this care giver.
God’s ways are perfect when the choice is his.
I have been blessed by this experience.

WALKING: In the manner WORTHY of your calling

Remember His Goodness: Why I blog

Remember His Goodness | Desiring God  (Click here)

“God knows that we are forgetful. So he gives us memorials.”

 I often review past blogs as memorials to God's goodness toward me.

I am sharing the above Blog by somebody else because I could not have worded it any better.

I have often read through out the Psalms and often wonder to the fact that I am reminded over and over again of God's goodness to the children of Israel and they still did not seem to get it.  And sometimes, I don't get it either as I go through painful reminders and begin to grumble too.
I have often had to remind myself of the following suggestions from E.B. Pusey, a 19th century church leader.  (These guide lines have been a part of my life since the 90's and keep in my study Bible as a reminder).
I say they are guidelines as I fail often and have to remind myself of them.

Steps to Contentment Allow thyself to complain of nothing, not even of the weather. Never picture thyself under any circumstances in which thou art not. Never compare thine own lot with that of another. Never allow thyself to dwell on the wish that this or that had been, or were, otherwise than it was, or is. God Almighty loves thee better and more wisely than thou dost thyself. Never dwell on the morrow. Remember that it is God's, not thine. The heaviest part of sorrow often is to look forward to it. "The Lord will provide." —Published in G. F. Maine's "A Book of Daily Readings"