Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Some News

My Mother died on January 4th,2013.

I have been distracted and sad. Focused and happy. . . and unable to write anything that would make any sense.



 I'll be back soon.

Thanks for dropping by.

 Mary

Tuesday, 25 December 2012

So, This is Christmas!

I learned something about Christmas, and about life today.

The occasion of Christ's birth is such a joyous event for all of us who believe in His mission as our Saviour - yet, at the time of His birth, thousands of babies were being killed, and thousands of parents were mourning.

It's amazing to me how very humble Jesus is. That He would come into the world during such turmoil. That He would come as a source of joy and redemption at a time when so many were sorrowing over the loss of their children.

It seems to me that life is so much this way - and it seems to me it was meant to be this way. . .


Joy mingled with sorrow. Sorrow mingled with Joy.

I'm not completely sure what to make of it - today I don't have any answers. Just the hope of Christ and a prayer that He will help me understand.

Balance.

Goodness.

Mercy.

Thanks for dropping by.

Mary

Sunday, 23 December 2012

God's World

Whew! This is such a life!

On Friday morning Terry and I went to the funeral of a seven year old boy who was killed in a car accident. It was an experience bordering on extreme sadness (for his family) and absolute joy (that he was such a bright light in his world).

Check this out for a touching insight into the funeral;

 http://comfortabletech.blogspot.ca/2012/12/gordons-desk-thoughts-at-selkirk-boys.html?spref=fb

My version of a Christmas Tree this year

IN the evening we went to a Christian Concert at Calvary Temple and listened to some great music about God.

The highlight, for me, was the little girl - one year old or so - who stood up through the entire concert and danced. She had everyone smiling. ( wish I had brought my camera!)

I have to just look at God and wonder. How Great He is, and how grateful I am that He helps me to see both sides.

Thanks for dropping by.

Mary

Monday, 17 December 2012

Bath Day

Mondays are bath day for Mom.

Baths are difficult.

She doesn't understand what is happening. She doesn't understand why she needs a bath. She thinks she's bathing everyday.

She can't sling a reasonable sentence together most of the time.

Getting into the tub is a major struggle, but once she was there, today, it went quite well.

Getting back into bed is tough. Crying.

She can't really explain what she feels. I sense fear.

We do the usual routine, and Mom settles down.

I am exhausted.

I notice that when I give her ice cream, she puts the spoon down and tries to eat it with her fingers. I feed her the ice cream.

Worn out, wintery, wreath.

 Do her hair. Get everything all straightened out.

I come close to her face, and she looks straight into my eyes. She touches my face ever-so-gently, trying to say something, but it doesn't come out right . . . something about my face looking bright.

Then . . .

"I love you, Mary."

What more can I ask?

God is Good!

Thanks for dropping by!

Mary

Friday, 14 December 2012

Forgiveness and Love

When I look back on the feelings I had toward my Mom when the Alzheimers first began to take over, I am tempted to feel ashamed - to run away and hide. I think that's the "natural" response.

I feel God calling me away from that though. It's almost as if going down that road would be another assault on an already terribly sad situation. Too self indulgent. Too predictable. Too far away from God. I feel Him teaching me that for much of my life, I have done my best, and even when I messed up (and I did - a LOT), it was alright. Even at this stage in life, I'm still like a child learning how to walk, in many ways. I fall, trip, tumble, hit, cry, and mess. I'm still just learning.

It feels like a very slippery slope to go down - a place of darkness and depression - to regret things in this day that I can't change from a day gone past.

I don't want to go there.

I want to turn to Christ and ask Him to teach me how to do better. To show me how to live my life in His light, and not in guilt and fear. To allow His perfect Love to cast out those things that keep my heart running - running away from Him. Guilt does that - it keeps me running.

So, through Christ, changes are happening, a heart slightly softer, and a mind more ready to learn about the Divine way of living. Learning that part of life is NOT doing everything right - it is learning. Learning that Christ is much easier on me than I am on myself, and turning to Him to help me accept that.

Through my Mom, I have learned a form of forgiveness that only God could have taught me. Forgive her for this disease that is controlling and eating away at her brain. Forgive her for hitting and screaming. Forgive myself, when I have come to the limit of what I can take with repetitive conversations that go nowhere, and allow myself to leave.

Terry feeds the birds every morning!

On some level, at one time, I think I blamed her for allowing this to happen . . . and even if she did have some control over it (which I don't think she did) - still forgive. Forgive myself for the blaming.

Love her, tenderly, as only God can show me, even though she is not who she was. Even though some of her behaviour has become raw and repulsive.

Learning that love isn't that sweet and wonderful thing I once thought it was. Love is hard - and when Love is hard - that's when it really is love.

I'm leaving this here today. I know it isn't perfect. I hope it makes sense.

I'm just so grateful for the mercy of God, who takes me off the hook, and then teaches me how to take myself off the hook.

He is definitely Good!

Thanks for dropping by.

Mary

Wednesday, 12 December 2012

Remembering

In retrospect, it's fairly easy to see that my Mom's Alzheimer's Disease was beginning to affect her over a decade ago - at the time though, it just felt like Mom was doing some kind of weird things. It felt like Mom had become a control freak. She would ask unusual questions, and give unusual answers to simple questions. She was more into monitoring people than she had ever been.

I remember once going out to her cottage to help her clean up for winter - there was enough work there for ten people to do - and I felt angry that she hadn't done more to get things ready herself. She was becoming unaware that her behaviour was adversely affecting other people - this was different, because Mom had been very sensitive, and even intuitive, much of her life.

She would repeat herself - but that wasn't so abnormal. The forgetfulness was almost understandable, although it is a part of the disease - but the essence of who she was started to change. She would cry easily - not just cry though - sob uncontrollably. Issues from the past would come over her; she would obsess over them, and nothing could, or would, dissuade her from repeating long ago offenses. Her cheerful presence was fading, and she would take offense when none was intended.

I remember feeling angry at her. This is where the Divine Gift of Forgiveness takes on a whole new meaning.

I felt impatient and imposed upon sometimes. She needed me more and more. I didn't realize or understand what in earth was going on. Things that were once very straight forward - no longer were.

When it became obvious that something terrible was happening, I honestly felt that it would be better for her to not have to deteriorate into a complete state of confusion and despair. I felt that death would be better than that.




Out our front door this morning. Even God is getting ready for Christmas!

When everything finally collapsed and Mom ended up in the hospital for an extended time - when she couldn't comprehend anything, really - when I would be called in the middle of the night to come and try to settle her down - when I would arrive at the hospital to someone who looked like my Mom, but was sobbing like a lost child - when there was nothing I could do to settle her down - when her deafness became more and more of a handicap - - - -

When I went to the hospital to give her a bath - when she had become a gentle child -

I started to fall in love with her again -

- and I understood why she was still alive -

- and my heart opened towards her, and the world - and the clients I visited in my job - and my friends . . .

I could see and feel that there is, indeed, a Master Plan - and I began to trust the Master Planner.

It's difficult to do that all the time though.

Thanks for listening, and thanks for dropping by.

Mary