Barefoot Lily Lady

“Jesus, Help Me!”

Even as my sweet mother’s memory slowly fades, one thing remains strongly present. Her faith in Jesus. Many times during the day (and night), I will hear her pray, “Jesus, help me.” She prays it as she walks from her bed to the bathroom, or as she tries to get her knees to cooperate with her as she travels from the kitchen back to her bed.

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This Too Will Pass

I had lunch with a dear friend today. My heart is richly blessed for having spent time with Maureen. It was fun catching up on what was going on in each of our lives since we last saw one another. We’ve both had ups and downs, both thoroughly enjoy spending time with our kids and grandkids (but wish we could have more time with them). Last time Maureen and I caught up with one another, the sting of death was still fresh in my heart, having lost my mother to Alzheimer’s during that year. Now, it was my friend’s turn to say goodbye to her mother under similar circumstances in this past year. We talked a little bit about being in a new season of life — a season which may hold challenges, health and otherwise, but new opportunities for growth in Christ too. Our time on earth will pass before we know it; but, for the present, God is not finished with us yet.

Only one life, so soon will pass. Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Barefoot Lily Lady

I am fondly remembering when my children were small. So much energy and love went into making sure they were dressed, well fed, clean and safe. I mothered my children back in the days before baby monitors and wifi cameras helped monitor the safety of a sleeping child. I remember hesitating to even walk outside into the backyard to hang my laundry on the clothesline to dry, always wanting to be within listening distance of my sleeping babies.

Mealtimes with my little ones could be fun but, if I turned my back for an instant in our teeny-tiny kitchen, one of my children could spread his meal all over himself and the floor beneath before I could count to three. The other child made highchair sitting into a baby Olympic event going from being seated in her highchair to standing on the tray in record time.

Little stinkers.

I remember…

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Are You the One in Charge Here?

A newer resident at the assisted living memory care home where I work said something today which reminded me of a sweet memory of my mom. I’ll call the sweet lady ‘Lillian’, so as to shield her true identity. As I walked in the building Lillian’s face visibly brightened. With wide-eyed amazement, she greeted me and exclaimed, “Oh, you’re here, Grandma!” As I got a little closer to her, with a deflated note of disappointment in her voice, Lillian murmured, “Oh, you’re not my grandma, are you?” To which I replied, “No, I’m your new friend Cindie and I just have one of those familiar faces that reminds people of someone else.” Lillian pondered my face for a few seconds and then said, “Yes, your face is kind. Just like my grandma’s.”

Oh, my. That warmed my heart. I spent a few more minutes chatting with my new friend Lillian, then went about my work, with memories of my own sweet momma on my mind. In the later years of Mom’s life with Alzheimer’s, in her mind, I was rarely her daughter. Sometimes I got to be her sister, her mother, or her friend. I’d like to share one of those memories with you . . .

Barefoot Lily Lady

Lately, my sweet mother has been more than a bit confused about her living accommodations, referring to our home as “this facility” and “this place.” Not long ago, she swept her hand out in gesture as if encompassing her living space and said, “Are you the one in charge of this place?” I told her yes it was our home and that Wayne and I both welcome her to live here. “Oh,” she replied, “are my meals and laundry included?” I assured her that they were. To which she replied, “Well, they haven’t fed me all day, and I think they’re stealing my laundry. I can’t find it anywhere.”

Not long ago, she was telling Wayne that “someone who works here” had given her some pills. She wasn’t sure who it was, but figured they knew what they were doing, so she took them. It was Tylenol, and it was…

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Uncropped Memories

Join me for a photo-inspired trip down memory lane.

A whole flood of memories washed over me when I paused to look at this scanned photo today. While so many of my generation “cropped” their photos to put them into elaborate scrapbooks, I’m glad I wasn’t artsy-crafty enough to enjoy that sort of activity and this photo survived totally intact. I’m reminded of so many special things from this era of my life as I look at all of the elements in this slightly fuzzy old photo. Join me as I play a little game of ‘I Spy With My Little Eye’ with this photo.

My ‘I Spy’ Memories

This photo was taken in our very first home on 49th Street in Milwaukee.
It was a tiny 2-bedroom, 1-bath bungalow-style house boasting about 600 square feet of living space. I’ve seen a more recent Zillow listing for this house stating it has 1,487 square feet. Unless they put on an addition, they must have counted the basement and the tiny rear entryway.
Wayne still had a Garfunkel-ish mop of curly hair. He would tell you that the hair on top of his head has migrated to his chin over the years.
I remember how much our kids loved it when their daddy would read a book to them because he made all the necessary silly voices for each character.
That classic sofa was a hand-me-down from my best friend’s mom. Betty Banner’s gift of her used sofa was a fancy-schmancy step up for us in the world of living room furniture, replacing a freebie imitation leather futon which threatened to slide you off onto the floor whenever you tried to sit on it.
The sewing machine was a birthday gift from my husband two months after we were married. [Note: I tell the story about this sewing machine here.]
I used that sewing machine to make the heart-shaped pillows on my sofa (definitely an 80’s thing), farm-themed curtains for the kids’ bedroom, and clothing for myself. You wouldn’t know it by looking at this photo, but I also made shirts for Wayne and Matt…and cute little dresses for Beth, who apparently wasn’t into wearing clothes on this particular day.
Money was tight, but Wayne and I splurged and bought the maple writing desk so I would have someplace other than the kitchen table where I could set up my sewing machine. I think that desk has since taken on a new life in our daughter’s house.
That coffee table is actually a toy box we bought at an unfinished furniture store. Wayne and I finished it together and now, more than 40 years later, it sits in front of a sunny window in our home with lots of houseplants on top. Sadly, I have only a vague recollection of what is in it.
That purse on the coffee table was a favorite. It rarely had money in it, but my greatest earthly treasures were sitting right there on that sofa.
The afghan on the sofa back was crocheted for me by my Grandma Peet. I remember her asking me what the colors were in my new home. I told her “earthtones,” because that was the trendy thing in the 70’s.
The ball-fringe curtains on the windows were purchased by my grandma too. I remember feeling like a wealthy woman because I had curtains from Country Curtains on my windows.
Wayne and I painted that table lamp together. It was one of two plaster casting-type lamps that we painted for our abode. The lamp tables were Wayne’s stereo speakers. I remember we spent more for the lampshades than we did for the lamps.
That avocado green carpeting was straight out of the 60’s and it butted up to the burnt orange vinyl tile flooring in the itty-bitty kitchen. Yeh, we were that cool.
That rocking chair was gifted to me by my husband after the birth of Matt. There was a heat vent on the floor right in front of that rocker. I would put my feet on that vent and the warm air would whoosh under my bathrobe as I rocked my fussy baby to sleep on cold nights. Memories of rocking both of my babies in that chair have kept me from parting with it as I now seek to “downsize”.

Thanks for joining me for my little reminisce down Memory Lane. I’m thankful for this nostalgic moment captured on film 40+ years ago.

49 Days ’til Spring

Gardens are still snugly nestled beneath a lovely quilt of white snow in Wisconsin. It’s hard to capture in a photo, but, if you squint your eyes as you look at this photo of my backyard, you might be able to spy where bunnies and critters have created many intersecting paths in the snow — reminding me very much of quilting stitches, especially when viewed from a second-story window.

Standing just outside a side entrance to our home is this little metal sunflower sticking out of a little bank of snow. The rusty patina of the artsy sunflower against the similarly colored backdrop of last season’s Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ lends a bit of rustic beauty and charm.

Following the snow-covered pathway through the arbor entrance, now naked without its summertime covering of clematis, I happily traipse around in our backyard for a few brisk minutes. If I were a young girl, one of my parents would surely be leaning out of our home’s backdoor yelling, “Cynthia Lynn! Where’s your coat?”

It was certainly chilly without a coat, but there was more to see.

To my admiring eyes, the paper-thin beauty of spent hydrangea blossoms still speaks of their Creator even in the hushed silence of winter.

Tucked in the northwest corner of our yard, the swelling buds of the magnolia tree speak to the promise of beauty in the Spring.

Thanks for taking time out of your day to stroll along with me in my winter wonderland for a little ‘Six on Saturday’ tour (SOS for short). SOS is a virtual gathering of gardeners who like to write about their gardens. My posts are a bit sporadic, but I do quite enjoy the eclectic mix of gardeners who gather on Saturdays to write and give a six photo tour of what’s going on in their gardens. Click here if you want to learn more about SOS from our host, The Propagator.

Indoor Tubing Fun!

Count me in if I’m ever in a fun assisted living place like this . . .

May be an image of 2 people, people sitting, people standing and indoor — This could be me in 10 years…

May be an image of 1 person, sitting and indoor — But I’m pretty sure this will be more like it!

I’m down for it! But I’m not sure how you’ll get me back up once I’m down for it!

Here’s a super cute video if you’d like to see these senior funsters in action at StoryPoint Saline Retirement and Assisted Living Facility: https://fb.watch/aPbNjKuOTB/

A Blanket of Snow in January

Greetings from my winter wonderland in Wisconsin. It’s unusual for me to be home on Mondays, but a recent Covid exposure resulted in my choosing to err to the side of being cautious since I work in an assisted living memory care home. Even though I’m not symptomatic, I thought it best not to take any chances of spreading this virulent disease to my co-workers or the frail residents.

A view of the front yard now…and the view (hopefully) in a few months

It was cold outside, so I spent most of my morning catching up on some neglected housework. The floors are now much cleaner and the kitchen chairs are now dust-free and sporting new felt pads.

What was I thinking when I wished for these chairs?
Well, I definitely wasn’t thinking about how hard they would be to dust!

The rest of my day was spent doing quiet things like reading, working on a Bible study and listening to some great music. But the picturesque scene just outside my window beckoned me to venture outdoors for at least a few minutes. My hubby had shoveled a path to the backyard birdfeeders, so I decided to make the birds happy and refill each feeder. It was pretty chilly out there, so I didn’t stay out long, but the sun was shining and the snow was beautiful, so I snapped a few photos to share with you.

Well, that’s my contribution to Six on Saturday. With all this snow and the cold that comes along with it, the closest I’m going to get to gardening this week is filling the bird feeders for our hungry squirrels. I have a few houseplants that need attention, and there are always gardening catalogs to page through and a tall stack of books-to-read-someday to finally read. Of course, I always enjoy visiting gardens of all of the other Sixes, courtesy of our meme host at https://thepropagatorblog.wordpress.com/. Check it out!

Signing off now to dream of daffodils and tulips.

I could never forget you

It makes me a bit sad when I re-read this post and am reminded I wasn’t able to care for mom in our home until the very end of her journey on earth. But, only a tiny bit sad. I know in my heart that moving her to BeeHive Assisted Living and Memory Care in her last year on earth was the right thing to do. BeeHive was so much more than a “place for those waiting to die”. The decision to move her into memory care provided her with so much more meaningful interaction, activities, opportunities to move about, more variety in her meals, and lots of tender loving care. I am beyond grateful for the time spent with her — I know that is something I will never regret. I’m thankful for a husband whose wise investments meant that she would not “run out of money” as she had often worried. It was enough. God is good…all the time.

Barefoot Lily Lady

When you have Alzheimer’s you can’t remember that you don’t need to worry about something. So you do worry. A lot.

Mom worries about such things as whether there is food in the fridge and if she’ll be able to afford the things she needs to live. There is, and she will.

When we have guests, she worries about how they’ll get home in the dark, or where they’ll sleep for the night. She will oftentimes tell our guests that they can sleep in her bed if they need a place to sleep. Sad, but sweet.

Her worries are usually small ones. She worries every night about whether or not she has a toothbrush. She frets about leaves and twigs out in the yard, or the water on the deck after a rain.

Other times, her worries are big. Her biggest worries are about the future. Just today, she came…

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My Christmas Eve Reminisce

The Indescribable Gift

Journal Entry – December 24, 2016

It’s Christmas Eve. My church family is gathering this very hour to celebrate God’s Indescribable Gift by candlelight. I love the Christmas Eve service and am a bit saddened that I can only join my church family via “livestream.” While I appreciate having this option, it’s definitely not the same as being there.

Last year’s Christmas Eve service is etched deep within my heart. Our family all gathered together sitting in the pew beside Wayne and I remembering the giving of the Indescribable Gift with the birth of our Savior.

My favorite part of the service is a tradition that comes right at the end. Our whole church family gathers around the outer edge of the dimly lit sanctuary, the darkness of which is softened by the glow of a few decorative candles. Each one of us holds a single unlit candle while we sing a beautiful carol. Our pastor lights his candle. Then he lights the candle of those on either side of him. Each individual passing the light of their one candle to another, then that candle lights the next. The sanctuary becoming increasingly brightened by the shared light until we are all basking in the warm glow of candlelight, beautifully symbolizing sharing the Light of the World with one another.

With our granddaughters standing between us with their beautiful faces aglow in soft candlelight, Wayne and I listen to them lift their sweet voices in praise to their Savior. This passing of the candlelight perfectly symbolizes the passing of faith to the next generation.

This year our children are celebrating Christmas Eve with their families elsewhere. My dear mother is not up to venturing out on this mild wintry eve of Christmas. Alzheimer’s has stripped mom of her desire to do things socially, so the three of us are quietly celebrating here at her apartment. Together, we will enjoy a home-cooked meal followed by watching a favorite Hallmark Christmas movie.

I must confess that my mind is awhirl with questions and a few uncertainties tonight. I look at mom and wonder just how many more Christmases we will celebrate together. Will this be her last Christmas with us? Will she celebrate her next Christmas in heaven, a gift she truly desires? If not, will she know who I am next Christmas? Will she be able to stay in her apartment another year, or will this next year bring more difficulties and change?

But, even in the midst of my wondering and pondering heart this year, there is a quiet inner joy. Joy in knowing Christ – the Indescribable Gift. Joy in having a husband who has also received the same Gift. Joy in knowing my mother and father each received the Gift by faith as well. Joy in the knowledge that my children and their spouses have each received that most precious Gift. Joy in the realization that one by one, our grandchildren are receiving this Indescribable Gift by faith too.

The symbolic candle lighting candle brings sweet joy as we are reminded that each of us has received this Indescribable Gift because someone shared it with us.