Walk With Me

For quite a while, many Tuesday’s have been Grandpa day. Lydia had just started school so she missed out on coming with Mom to spend time with Grandpa so Grandma could work. But, Bethany came for a year and then Rachel has been doing this with Mom since the beginning. We moved Dad into memory care the middle of February. The time had come not only for Dad, but the toll it is taking on my Mom has never stopped worrying me. That morning, before helping move Dad’s stuff I said goodbye to a family friend who left this world too soon.   And in the moment, adrenaline and denial and maybe, by God’s grace, a little bit of strength helped to push through that day. While that works, and sometimes is necessary to get through life, at some point you can’t keep pushing through. Dementia steals memories, moments and just so many things. Today is Tuesday. Rachel knows it is Tuesday. She had a rough morning and I couldn’t figure out why. Until I sat her down and waited patiently for her ...

I've heard Barbara Brown Taylor quoted in sermons, but it was through hearing her in good old Oprah's SuperSoul podcast talking about lunar spirituality vs. full solar spirituality that had me intrigued and wanting to read her books. Naturally "Learning to Walk in the Dark" was the first title that grabbed at me because it's basically what I feel like I've been trying to do for the past several years.   If you are in need of a book that says it's okay - in fact necessary - to be in the dark, this may be a book you need to read. I Googled books on grief to see if this one would pop up and it did not. I've tried to read other books on grief and while I'm sure there are good ones out there I've only encountered the clinical, 10 ways to get over grief, etc.... If you're looking for a book to be a companion as you grieve, this may be a book that helps. (And bonus, it's an easy, relatable read with less than 200 pages.) Now I...

I was walking the other day and honestly, I was begging God to show me what Christmas is all about because I'm having a hard time seeing/feeling/hearing it. Just mere feet later I come upon this tree and a few feet later, another tree. Now maybe it's because I'm finally in a place where I'm so desperate and broken, and willing and open to actually listen to Him that I truly saw it, I don't know. This isn't the first winter I've seen a few trees decorated in these woods, but bless the person who decorates these few sparse trees every winter because this year it allowed me to finally see/feel/hear Christmas. There is nothing spectacular about this tree, it was in the middle of the woods and so calm and quiet. Yet in that moment everything about this tree said to celebrate. To celebrate that Jesus came to give me HOPE. Not that He'll answer every prayer and that everything will go may way. Because Lord knows the only Christmas wish I really ha...

I’m mad. But I don’t know who or what to be mad at. I could be mad at Dad. For leaving me in this way. For not fighting harder, for leaving me when I’m in this season of needing him. I could be mad at my family but they didn’t ask for this either. I feel mad at myself. For not doing more, for not doing anything, for trying too hard. For feeling like a complete and utter mess. I want to be mad at God. For this painstaking way he is taking Dad from me. For making life feel just dang hard right now. For taking away all clarity, for leaving me standing in this season of loss. For this pain and broken heart I am feeling. I’m so mad, but I have no one to be mad at. I’m so mad but I have nothing to be mad at. I just can’t wrap my head around it anymore. Or maybe I’m just tired of trying to wrap my head around it and it’s a surrender that’s harder than the frantic trying to wrap my head around it. It’s a surrender that I need to do, but it’s a surrender that absolutely su...

I realized I’ve been saying to Jon more and more frequently that I haven't been there for Dad. I think in my head I’ve been telling myself it’s because I’m not physically there to help with day-to-day care. But, it’s more than that. Sure, I'm physically not there but my heart’s not there either. What I mean is that deep down, who God made me to be instinctively knows what Dad needs more than anything but it is the one thing that I’ve been avoiding doing for him. To say that I feel like so many things have collided to make me feel like I’m having a midlife crisis in my 30’s is an understatement. And I write this with a joking tone in my head and yet it’s entirely true. So I’ve been searching, reading, crying, asking questions, praying, more crying – all of which aren’t bad things - but lately just realizing that I can’t really do anything but surrender and by goodness is that hard to do. And here’s why. Because I’m trying to play God. And I’m trying to play God to avoid… ...

I' ve been trying to continue to live my own life, to be a wife, to raise my kids, to do my jobs and yet I can’t deny that the past few months the looming cloud of “my Dad has dementia” has been this sneaky thief slowing taking more than just my Dad from me. These past couple of months have been hard. You know the whole stages of grief thing? When your 8 year old comes to you and says to you, “Mama you’re not happy” it’s a rude awakening to just how much I’ve been avoiding admitting to myself just how sad I am. My Dad will always be a drummer. I cannot think of my Dad without thinking of his sparkling, blue drum set. For several years through college and after, I played for church service often with my Dad preaching and sometimes playing the drums along with me. Deep down I had this awareness of how important those moments were and what it meant to me, but when you’re in college and starting a life of your own, you don’t necessarily hone in on that – at least I didn’t. He stop...

I have seen the movie before, however the other night I experienced it in a completely new and unexpected light. I was hit hard and fast with the realization that Dory’s constant, frantic searching may be what it’s like for Dad in his mind. The questioning who you are, wondering your purpose, feeling as if you’ve lost all connections. Plain and simply forgetting everything! This time I had to leave the room. Because as much as my girls understand what’s going on and I’ve allowed them to see me cry and talk about grief, some days I want to protect them from the hurt. It is so damn hard to witness and hear how his mind and his physical body continue to change. What is even more difficult for me are these gaps of time where I am not physically present. So to see the changes since the last time I was with Dad is really hard. There are more and more times when I’m with him and I think, “this is not my Dad”. And it absolutely breaks my heart; I hate thinking this way. Because this...