As this challenging year ends, my challenges do not. I am now both a widow and an orphan. I have both a broken arm and a pinched nerve in my back. I am a hot mess and a spicy disaster but beyond it all, I can thank God for Christmas.
I thank God for the birth of Jesus who was born and saw life through our eyes and now gives us the gift of seeing life through His. The richer, deeper, soul nourishing life He has uniquely handcrafted for each one of us.
Christmas made possible the freedom to live above our circumstances. A life only possible when we choose to see it through His eyes.
Hallelujah and amen. There is a brand new year coming!
These past few weeks my old acquaintance, Dread, has returned. The feeling of not wanting to proceed; of wanting to stand still and hold my breath until the unformed danger moves past.
The loss of my mom and the struggling grief of my child have stymied me…good reasons, I suppose…
And then there’s the fact that I’ve just returned from St. Louis where we dismantled my mom’s house of 43 years. It was an oddly comforting reprieve to be with my siblings, cousin and friend. Through all of our funerals, we have continued to say that we are stronger together and that always proves true.
But now returning home, my lingering dread awakens with me each morning. I suspect it will just take time to assimilate into myself this ever changing life of mine.
I tell others who are new to grieving to be gentle with themselves and so I claim this for myself. In the stillness of my silent night, I will gently let the Truth and living Hope Who is Christmas rescue me once again for that is, after all, the whole point of His coming at Christmas.
i thank You God for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes.
(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any— lifted from the no of all nothing— human merely being doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
I walk the dogs this morning and bring Mama with me. On this hiill overlooking the sparse winter park, a crew has come in, cut down and cleared out all the summer’s growth leaving the taller trees and the dusty earth beneath.
The dogs don’t mind.There are plenty of smells. The sun is warming the cool morning and the birds are singing with delight.
Bella stops their song as she chases them into the air and skids to a stop beneath the tree where they hide. She barks as she sits expectedly, looking up, tail wagging, waiting. It does not take long for her to be abruptly distracted by smells too vibrant to ignore and Z joins her. They dash off so pleased to be together on this beautiful morning.
The pups and our walks tether me to my present. Feelings of powerlessness are overtaking my days again but as I sit and am still, the birds remind me to sing. The dogs remind me to seize the day. My Mama reminds me that I am truly blessed to be loved.
The dusty earth may be kicked up but the trees still manage to find a way to grow tall and strong, awaiting the new growth that the Spring will bring. And they remind me as well to wait in the still beauty of this fine day.
It is early morning and our Grace kitty is singing her loud morning song. It is a song that used to wake Mama. The kitty would go into her room until she got a response. It was their morning ritual of sorts. This morning there is no such response except for her even, steady breathing. I gently put water in her mouth as her eyes flicker open. I run my fingers through her hair and hold her hand.
It’s a kind of waiting game now. As I sit at her bedside, I play some of her favorite records, I speak the names of all those who love her, family and friends.
Joe plays John Denver and I sing:
“Country roads take her home to the place where she belongs…mountain Mama, take her home country roads.”
She used to be fond of John D. but recently while we were listening to him, I found that she had put Kleenex in her ears to block the sound. John and Frank Sinatra, both had become rather tinny to her ears and unwelcome. It was the side effect of Alzheimer’s I had not encountered before…
She did love to sing the old hymns. I loved standing beside her in church and singing with her. This hymn began singing itself in me today:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus Look full in his wonderful face And the things of the earth will grow strangely dim In light of his glory and grace
Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus by Helen Hemmel
I imagine she is off making her peace before her final journey. She has been so mad at God for so long. I used to pray, for years, that she would find belief in Jesus to soothe her soul until it occurred to me that it was not belief she needed. My prayers weren’t answered as I intended because how can you be so spitting mad at Someone you don’t believe in?
She once told me that if she continued to read my writing, she would come around to my point of view. I imagine she’s just about there now. Soon she will have incontrovertible proof as she approaches the throne of grace.
She is so small and frail today but her lovely, piercing blue eyes shine on…
For all those who have loved my Mama, she has not yet left us though she is struggling to do so.
She is at my house in Arizona during what will likely be her last days. And as expected, she is going out on her own terms. Though her mind may be confounding, her spirit continues to be fierce. Challenging, yes, but for those who know her, she would not agree to go gently into any good night.
Please know that she, along with myself and my siblings, are grateful for your friendship and care of our Mama throughout her 91 years.
Anne
November 8, 2022
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light…
If you listen to my self talk, which I often don’t, I hear myself repeating: ‘I can’t do this’. ‘I can’t’. Yet, I say that while I am doing the thing I say I can’t, thereby proving that I can…Hmmm
My ‘I can’t’ rhetoric serves as a kind of safety net that I jump into in case I’m right. If I don’t succeed then I’ll have my “I can’t” to fall back on. As if to say, “It’s not my fault. I told you I couldn’t!”
But in God’s economy my safety net is more like a trampoline. I jump into it and He bounces me back onto my feet to show me that I can.
I think it is true that He does sometimes give me more than I can handle but it is never more than He can handle. So the struggle becomes my jumping away and His catching me as I bounce back and do the thing despite my own predictions of failure.
It’s a matter of taking every thought captive, I think. When my self-talk says I can’t, I need to stop and claim that God says I can.
It is not easy. It is arduous, soul stretching difficult and it sometimes takes more than I can give. The thing about God, though, is that He has a way of turning my can’ts into can and my don’ts into done, transforming, demolishing even, my self imposed boundaries in the process. Hmmm, indeed.
Recanting my can’ts,
C-Anne October 28, 2022
"We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." I Corinthians 10:5b
Joe loves to listen to your skiing song: Free Falling by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
Free Falling
"She's a good girl, loves her mama Loves Jesus and America, too She's a good girl, who's crazy 'bout Elvis Loves horses, and her boyfriend too
And it's a long day livin' in Reseda (heaven) There's a freeway(to heaven) runnin' through the yard And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart
It occurred to me the other day that the lyrics could be yours sung from heaven. I’m not so crazy about Elvis and you aren’t necessarily a bad boy but you don’t miss me because Jesus is right there beside you and He tells you I’ll be alright…
I wish I always believed Him.Â
I miss you, Philip. We were going to take care of Mama together. I need your strength of body, of soul. We need your kindness; your unfailing tenderness and friendship with Mama; your understanding and gentleness and humor.
All of this reminds me of how desperately I miss you. How inadequate I feel without you. How I long to hold your hand and feel you are for me…
Another day of being accused ofl villainy is passing and it ends with a sigh and an unexpected smile. A line from The Princess Bride popped into my head as I put Mama to bed tonight. I imagined her hearing me telling her what the Dread Pirate Roberts always said every night before bed: “Good night, Westley (Mama). Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”
Just that one thought will have me cry laughing my own self to sleep. It’s rather beautiful.
My mother is angry when I’m near and angry when I leave. She argues with anything I say and is a blame master. Yesterday, she was sure I wanted to kill her. She told anyone who would listen and was quite sure nobody would believe her because I’m such a sweet person…
My higher self recognizes the process of Alzheimer’s. Her mind is betraying her and it seems absolutely understandable that she would lash out. She lives in a negative, powerless space now and seeks to escape and regain her power by mistrusting, blaming and arguing. I get it. I do.
But it’s my other self that can’t seem to deal; the one already beat down by the world, diminished in health and stamina. I feel like I can’t do the turmoil and conflict in the unending, unpredictable form that Alzheimer’s presents me. Understanding the process does not assist me enough in the trenches. She pierces my heart 50 times a day and I’m having trouble responding with kindness.
Saying that makes me want to explode in a fury of tears and denial. I don’t want it to be true. I want to be better than I am but the cold hard truth is that I am not better. I want to flee from this challenge, from these piling up hardships. I want to hide and be invisible.
So I turn to Scripture to find my way. I was reminded recently of Eph 6:10-12. Our battle is not against each other though it may seem that way.
Ephesians 6:10-12 10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power… 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
And my Pastor’s sermon on James 1:2-5 tells us that trials are essential to produce growth in us as we bear up under the strain of them; trusting God with the heavy lifting. Growth’s journey will bring us to maturity and completeness.
James 1:2-5 2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.
Whether He takes me out of it or sustains me through it, it is up to Him. My way will not be found by the power of myself to overcome. My way will only be found in the mighty power of my Lord.
My higher self agrees and cheers on the victory that is ours! But my weakened self wonders if I can even take another step. I hunker down under my blankets and I pray for perspective, for strength, for hope, for wisdom and I wait to see what God will do with my sad sac self.
Trying to remember… Fearfully and wonderfully made,
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 