Duct Tape Can’t Fix It

It was 13 years ago today that my dad was called Home to heaven. May I share his story of how God drew him to Himself?

My dad was a mechanical engineer by training, so could figure out how to fix most anything long before the advent of YouTube tutorials. If he didn’t have the right part, he’d get creative and make something else work. Our family jokes that he could fix just about anything with duct tape.

My dad learned later in life that there was one thing he definitely couldn’t fix by his own ingenuity. His own sinful heart. I was about 12 years old when my dad realized he needed to trust Jesus for salvation from sin. I was old enough to notice his dramatic spiritual transformation — a change that carried over into every aspect of his life.

Mom once shared with me that Dad would spend every lunch break at work reading the Bible he kept in his car. He read through it so many times that it fell apart. Dad repaired it with his favorite tool: duct tape. I displayed that Bible at my dad’s memorial service in 2008, but it disappeared sometime during mom’s battle with Alzheimer’s a few years later. I did find another Bible, similarly repaired (pictured).

Not long ago I sat down with my Dad’s well-worn Bible in my lap and began to page through it, stopping to read his notes in the margin. It was clear to me that he spent much time exploring this copy of God’s Word too. The Bible had a few special things tucked in the flyleaf, including two cards I had sent him — it meant a lot to me knowing that he had treasured those cards enough to save them.

My heart got all tangled up with emotion when my eyes spied two sheets of lined paper in my dad’s familiar handwriting. These were the notes from which my Dad shared this testimony of faith with the congregation at Garfield Baptist Church on March 31, 1971.

Today, dear readers, on the 13th anniversary of his homegoing to heaven, I would like to share dad’s testimony with you, just as he wrote it, with a prayerful hope that God will use it for His Glory .

March 31, 1971
My Testimony
Jerry Boyles - A Son of God
Matthew 10:32 - "Whosoever therefore shall confess me before man, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven."

It is a shock to learn at the genetic age of 39 to find that you are a spiritual babe. I have been a church member since the age of 11-12 but do not recall being asked personally, 'Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?" I could not give an affirmative answer the first time this question was posed on a Monday night visitation by Gene Klingbeil and Ed Newton, but it did start the wheels turning. I admitted to being a sinner and I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior on Monday evening November 9, 1970 with the assistance of Rev. (Edward) Fuller, Mr. (Everett) Huebner, and my family. I was baptized by immersion by Rev. Fuller on Dec. 27, 1970.

I base my salvation on John 1:11-13 "He came unto his own and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name: which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."

My assurance of salvation is: John 10:28 "And I give unto them eternal life: and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand."

At this point in Dad’s testimony, he made a note to himself to “Give thanks to AWANA and Sunday School.” Those two ministries of Garfield Baptist Church were very instrumental in my coming to Christ and growing in my faith too. I love knowing that when God drew me to Christ, my family would soon come to know Him too. Dad concluded his testimony in this way:

Being a spiritual babe I have a lot of "catching up" to do. I'm going to need all the help I can get from God and this congregation. I feel that I've had much help from both. I hope, if accepted as a member, that I can be an asset to this church.

In Jesus Name,
Jerry R. Boyles

Right hand of fellowship, Thursday, April 8, 1971

When Time Stands Still

Here’s a little journey in time back to the day we purchased a Dayclox (pictured) to assist Mom in being able to more easily figure out what day or time it is. It was one of our best caregiving purchases ever. There are different versions of this clock available for sale on the web. One that I think would be particularly helpful in this stage of mom’s dementia is the Hurrah HDLC003 – which spells out whether it is morning, afternoon or evening  (the abbreviations “a.m.” and “p.m.” are starting to lose their significance). Others have audio features for the vision-impaired. There is even one called “MemRabel 2”, a similar clock which allows the caregiver to program in up to 20 helpful reminders – particularly useful if your loved one is in earlier stages of dementia and spending time on their own. I share this post and links in the hope that it will give ideas for helpful memory aid resources to caregivers who have noticed their loved one struggling with measuring time.

Facebook Journal Entry – Friday, October 16, 2015

SillyHatSecretary
Momma dressed up for Crazy Hat Night in Awana

Time seems to slip through your fingers when you don’t have a schedule filled with meetings, committees, tasks and work routines. Retirees often comment that it is sometimes hard to keep track of the days when you no longer have a job to go to. Momma wasn’t one of those retirees. When Mom took early retirement from her nursing career, she found myriad ways to fill her time with meaningful volunteer activities. Spring Creek Church benefited greatly from mom’s organizational talent. In the words of one appreciative Awana director, she became an “indispensable organizational right arm” in this weekly children’s ministry. Mom and Dad also belonged to Kings Men and Daughters (now known as King’s Class), a life group (an adult Bible fellowship the size of my current church congregation, mind you!) for seniors at her church. Being a friendly, detail oriented person, Mom was perfect for making sure new guests to the class were introduced to others, their contact information was obtained, and that welcome letters were sent out. If you were a “regular” and absent for any length of time from that class, she knew it and would make sure that your caregroup leader noticed too.

Another recipient of Mom’s generous gift of time was Shepherds Ministries, a non-profit ministry in Union Grove, Wisconsin whose goal is to help those with intellectual disabilities “turn disabilities into abilities.” A volunteer group of seniors from Spring Creek would go down on a regular basis to help the organization with mass fundraising and newsletter mailings. Mom could be counted upon to be one of the members of that group. The ministry so touched the heart of my mother that she agreed to play a very special role in the life of one Shepherds resident in particular. Mom became Carolyn’s advocate, stepping into a guardianship role when Carolyn’s family could no longer serve in that capacity. To Mom, Carolyn became almost another daughter, with mom as often as she could attending her special functions, celebrating her birthdays, taking her to doctor appointments, helping her with financial decisions, and all the things you would expect a mom to do.

Time flew by in those days, but there came a day when Momma knew she could no longer reliably do these ministries. One by one, she resigned from the responsibilities of the ministries she loved and reluctantly stepped down from being Carolyn’s advocate. Now, without deadlines and appointments to keep, time often stands still. For a person whose memory is failing, order of days, weeks and months is lost. Over the summer months, we noticed Mom struggling to remember what day it is more often. She was so confused on one day that she found it necessary to walk across the street to visit a kind neighbor and ask for help in knowing what day it is.

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See the Dayclox story at http://www.daycloxusa.com

Wayne and I recently purchased something for her that seems to help. It’s a special clock. Mom can see its bold face from her favorite chair. In addition to telling Mom what time it is, it is also her visual cue as to what month and day of the week it is so that she can more effectively keep track of things on her appointment calendar. The clock was a bit pricey, but the investment essentially restored a small measure of dignity.

We realize that not too far down the road, as this wicked disease progresses, time will be lost in Momma’s mind. But for now, we have joy in knowing she has the restored dignity of being able to measure time once again.