Grace Awakened Eyes

Thursday, December 10, 2020

Counting our common everyday gifts – our grace gifts from God – is the challenge I have accepted as a discipline of the heart. My current Bible study is encouraging me to take notice of God’s grace in the minutae of life and giving thanks.

Eucharisteo. To be grateful, feel thankful, give thanks.

It’s probably the last day in 2020 where the sun will feel so very warm and the air so beautifully crisp. Today was a good day to take a walk in “my park” just down the street. Today I step off of the paved path and take the lesser traveled pathways worn in the tall grasses in little patches of the park.

Today I take notice of the small things. The glimmer of sunshine low in the sky, streaming through the trees, forming halos around what remains of summer’s flowery offerings.

Photo by Marta Wave on Pexels.com

I thank God for the sun. It’s there every single day, even when I don’t see it, reminding me that God’s grace surrounds us, intricately involved in our ordinary days – even on the darkest and most difficult of days.

My wandering feet cross the expanse of grass still green which not so very long ago hosted soccer games, picnics, and kites. A distant patch of color lures me to explore the paths that other feet have created. Such beauty. I thank God for placing me in a community that has such a wonderful place for families to play and explore. Even now, in the midst of the sickness that stubbornly refuses to loose its grip on humanity, people enjoy its respite and calm.

A colony of milkweed punctuates the wind-flattened grasses. I step into their abode to explore the spent pods which have long since burst open to release next year’s seeds. The fruit pods are dry now, grayed like me with age, yet the outer capsule still bears a design and texture placed there by the Creator. I marvel at the intricacy and find joy of heart when I find one lonely pod still not quite open. The cottony fluff feels like silk to my touch.

I thank God for this herbaceous perennial that beckons the Monarch butterfly to lay her tiny eggs in the shelter of its ovate leaves. One tiny egg for each plant, if she can, so as to make sure the babies she may never see will have food enough to grow, yet not destroy the hospitable host. [Read more about milkweed here.]

I spy Queen Anne’s Lace framed by amber colored grasses tipped in burnt orange and a band of blue sky. She sways tall in the breeze over the meadow grasses, her skirt drawn up and around her as though bracing for winter’s nip. As my aging eyes seek to see more, her Designer’s sage attention to detail reveals a gentle beauty, even though stripped of her ornate white petaled robe.

Somehow, this stately queen of the meadow makes me think of my mother’s gentle beauty. Many have remarked that there was something about her skin that was so lovely and fair – even in her 80’s. But what made her truly beautiful was the beauty of Christ in her. No beauty serum could impart more radiance than my momma’s beautiful reflection of Christ as she imitated Him in life’s ups and downs. Alzheimer’s could not steal that beauty.

I stand in the meadow and thank God for reminding me that this beauty can be mine too. Her faithful example still lingers, pointing the way. Momma’s life still touches mine, even in her absence. Today, I thank God for taking my beautiful momma home so gently. Though she went through many difficult days with Alzheimer’s, years actually, I thank God that now she knows fully they were truly light momentary afflictions when compared with the glory of her heavenly home for which she longed.

Tomorrow the snow will begin to fall and soon it will hurt just a little to take in that first breath of air when we walk outside. Yet, even in that, there will be countless reasons to thank God, be reminded of His grace, and experience true joy in the bounty of His grace upon grace.

Eucharisteo. To be grateful, feel thankful, give thanks.

God’s Grace through Others

Getting my mother to leave her apartment for ANY reason is difficult these days. Mom had an appointment with her memory doctor on Thursday and I was very relieved it was Viv’s turn to get her ready to go. I told my sister she’d need to start about 2 hours beforehand, gave her a few tips, and warned her Mom would likely give her a little guff about the doctor’s appointment and ask where they were going about 50 times.
VivsTextI was at home getting ready to leave the house to go out to lunch with my husband when I received this text from Viv.

It made me smile.

I wasn’t smiling because it was funny (well, maybe a little). I smiled because I knew Viv knew. This experience had helped her better understand that taking care of our mom was hard…and that I need her help.

I know in my heart it’s not “me” doing this, so I sent Viv this reply text.

VivsText2

The appointment was just a routine check-in with her geriatric specialist to make sure all was well with regard to her Alzheimer’s medication regimen and to find out if there were any new concerns. I did have a concern. Mom had been complaining of difficulty breathing for a few days and seemed a little more irritable and confused. She always has troubles with her allergies, but this seemed different.

Sure enough, when the medical assistant took her vitals, she expressed concern that mom’s heart rate was only 44. That would be a good heart rate for an uber-athletic man, but not an elderly woman whose heart rate is usually around 68. I was pretty sure that the medication donezepil (Aricept) was the culprit. I didn’t think that the Aricept was providing measurable improvement, so wondered if we should discontinue it.

To be on the safe side, the nurse practitioner wanted to rule out heart problems. Orders were placed for blood tests, an EKG and a chest x-ray. Mom even got an escorted wheelchair ride as part of her ordeal. The medical assistant who pushed mom had the sweetest personality and threw me looks of compassion for mom as my sweet momma asked the same question at least five times between the doctor’s office on the 2nd floor and the lab in the basement.

Mom is mobility challenged and hard of hearing, so I suited up in a lead apron and helped my mom stay in position for the chest x-ray, using a loud voice to instruct “breathe in and hold” and “exhale” at the appropriate times. Then I answered mom’s questions as the technician got her hooked up for the EKG. Long story short: all is well with her testing. No A-fib, heart problems or stroke. The medication was probably to blame, so we were instructed to discontinue that medication, take her pulse daily, and visit her primary doctor in a week or two to reassess.

I followed Viv and mom out of the nurse practitioner’s exam room. As I stepped toward the door, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned toward her and saw a look of compassion. Her eyes were telling me, “I know this is hard. I’m here for you.”

I’m extremely thankful my sister was able to accompany us on this bit of the journey. As I have gotten to know other family caregivers along the way, I realize all the more how blessed I am to have a sister who is willing to help out a few days each month. Sadly, there are a lot of lone ranger caregivers out there who have zero support from members of their family.

Please. If you know one of these dear people, do what you can to bless them with your help and encouragement. Be God’s grace in their lives. They need it.

Sundowners and Sleepless Nights

“Hi, Cindie!” said Momma with more brightness in her voice than a live-in caregiving daughter hopes for at 1:52 a.m.

“Hi, Momma,” I groggily responded as I peered into her bedroom doorway. “What are you up to?”  The soft light from the streetlight outside mom’s bedroom window snuck in a bit through the slats of her blinds, allowing me to see her distinctly hunched form in silhouette as she sat in the dark on the edge of the bed.

Out of the darkness, her voice continued, Continue reading “Sundowners and Sleepless Nights”