What Do You Expect?

Today is the first day of Advent, a four-week season of preparation less well known secularly than Lent, but my favorite nonetheless. For Catholics, it is the new years day of the liturgical calendar. As we prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ, we also remind ourselves that there is preparation to be done for His return. Preparation, in this sense, refers to personal reassessment and change, an uncomfortable notion that usually makes me wrinkle my nose and groan. However, just as Christmas preparations can be drudgery, sending out cards, putting up lights, spending hard-earned money, and baking, baking, baking, it can also be inspiring. We hear from people who live far away, neighbors bring scrumptious goodies to share, carolers sing at our door, family makes time to spend together, people vocalize appreciation of one another,and even strangers wish each other peace. Whatever we believe Christmas is becomes the foundation for what we expect from it, and I believe our expectations spur us on to doing our part to make it happen.

Since "expectation" is the theme of this first week of Advent, I leave you with a little motivation and, hopefully, a smile.

Think Pink

Sometimes we wonder what we can do in our little corner of the world to make a positive difference. I think, sometimes, it is just a matter of not saying no to the risk of stepping outside our comfort zone a little bit. Here is a really fun video in support of Breast Cancer awareness made by a crossection of staff from Providence St. Vincent's Medical Center in Portland.

Holiday Essence

The beds are all clean

And so is the floor.

We’re ready for kids

To come in the door.

The turkey is stuffed,

The potatoes are creamy;

The rolls are homemade

And dessert is quite dreamy.

Cookie dough ice cream

And mint chocolate chip,

One pumpkin pie and

A cheesecake with whip.

We’ll roll from the table

And take a quick nap,

Drink wine for digestion,

Then look for a snack.

Play games, work a puzzle,

It matters not what;

The best of Thanksgiving

Is the family we’ve got.

A Wednesday Drive

A week ago yesterday, as I traveled along the Columbia River Gorge on my way home from an unexpected trip to the city, I couldn't help but admire the beauty of an area that I often take for granted. Five days earlier, the trip down had been less than inspiring since I was battling torrential rains, as only a mother can, to get to my children.

Although they are perfectly capable of handling just about everything, Jennifer's diagnosis of H1N1 and Pneumonia was more than I could stay away from; that old mother lion instinct does not diminish over time. Sarah and Danielle had everything under control, but, well...you know...I could at least cook for them, or clean something, or get in their way. As it was, while Danielle was at work I contented myself with making sure medicine was taken, finishing laundry, carrying water glasses up and down the stairs, and hovering in the doorway, as I'd often done with all the kids when they were little, making sure Jen was breathing.

Anyhoo, the little pickup Danielle is using had some issue and wanted to come home with me for a checkup so I traded vehicles and drove home at a careful 58 mph. Bearing in mind that the freeway speed limit is 65 mph, that's one slo-o-o-ow trip home. I had many hours, especially through construction zones, to admire Oregon scenery. This particular section, where some of the worst weather often rares an ugly head as it had on my way down, is breathtaking in the fall when the river along one side of the road and the mountains on either side provide smoky blue backdrops to the vivid colors of the deciduous forest that creates a stunning corridor. On this day, low clouds added a mystical quality to the whole scene.

Tonka Tym and I made it home safely, and left three coughing, but resilient girls behind. Between Danielle's massive decontamination efforts before I got there, and all our efforts to maintain sterile conditions, I did not bring the flu back to Don and Mom. It certainly is nothing to mess with; even the cough of the lessor version caused Sarah to pull a muscle in her back, Jeremy to crack a rib, and Danielle to have an elderly lady run away from her in the store.

The pictures I took on this trip remind me of the daily beauty inherent in life that I often stumble past in a fog of routine, to-do lists, and distraction. The combination of power and delicacy in texture, color, and design represent the power and delicacy of the relationships for which I am eternally grateful to have in my life. Gratefulness is not just for Thanksgiving Day. Take care of yourselves.

Get Into the Spirit!

This is the week of Operation Christmas Child, which is sponsored by the nondenominational Samaritan’s Purse organization. Mom and I have each packed two plastic containers (instead of the suggested paper-wrapped shoeboxes) with small toys, stuffed animals, toothbrushes, toothpaste, bars of soap, hard candy, flip flops, socks, puzzles, notepaper, pencils, and erasers. We will take them to a nearby relay center, along with $7/box for postage, where they will be checked for inappropriate war toys, candy that could melt, or liquid substances such as shampoo before being boxed in crates and sent to regional centers and then loaded onto planes for delivery. Accompanied by a little bible story book printed in a native language, the gifts go into countries all over the world and are given to children who are victims of war, natural disasters, poverty, and disease. Many of these kids have never received a gift before.

Our church has also done this as a group project for quite a few years. I provide the plastic containers because they can be reused by children’s families to store food, etc. and everyone in the parish randomly brings small toys, wrapped candies, and hygiene items with which to fill the boxes. Some bring a little, some a lot. We spread all the goods out on tables and then each grab a box and fill it according to whether it is for a boy or girl and which age group (3-5, 6-10, 11-14). It’s easy, fun, and feasible for everyone.

If you’d like to try it, here’s where you find a drop-off center close to you and more details about the process. I love the joy that this brings to everyone involved. What a great way to begin Advent!

Ellie: Checking Our Sanity

"Okay. Tell me one more time why you stare over here so much because, I'm telling you, there's absolutely nothing back here; I checked."

Where Is Your Whisper?

The following little Greek video from Jean shares what someone affected with dementia might want us to know if they could step outside themselves for a moment. Watching it brought back a flood of feelings and thoughts that must now tumble over themselves to spill out through my fingers onto the keys. Please bear with me...

Many of us have been touched in some way by at least one form of dementia, watching helplessly while someone we love struggles with memory loss, slowly losing the words that could maintain a spindly bridge of understanding. For me it has meant standing on the shore as a child while watching my grandmother float away after several strokes, reaching out to my father as he worked so hard to mentally stay with us while emphysema robbed him of breath, holding my mother-in-law’s hand as we watched her very essence fade before us, and now sadly dreading the weekly decline that I see in the once-lively face of a neighbor.

Dementia, particularly Alzheimers, is a mean disease that clogs the brain, chokes memories, robs emotions, and stabs the very hearts of those left behind to watch its progress. Its victims become at first confused, then frightened, and, finally, silent. There are medicines available that slow its progression and research that brinks on prevention and cure. Until that time, however, it is important to remember that there is always grace.

Born and raised in this American society of independent thinkers and problem-solvers, it took me a while to realize that I could not fix my loved ones. How many times did I patiently, and sometimes not so patiently, try to explain and re-explain what pills to take, how to wash hands or pull up the covers, or why pushing someone down the stairs was not a good idea? Finally, in a moment of grace, I realized that learning was not possible; my friend could not be fixed. The best I could do was analyze each situation and find a temporary solution that might help us both feel less frustrated. I began to hand out each pill to be swallowed, hold her hands in mine under the running water, tuck her in at night, and ask the doctor for medicine to ease the aggression. When she couldn’t remember, I repeated; when she was afraid, I consoled; when she forgot the words, I prayed her prayer aloud and we were both blessed.

This is grace: an unearned gift from God that makes all the difference in the world. To anyone who has just slammed against the wall of Alzheimers, I offer you this ray of hope as you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and brush away the tears. There is a gift within this loss. Grieve the person who is slipping away, but don’t miss out on this chance to love them more than you ever have before. They need you. They are children, now, who cannot learn, cannot explain, and do not understand why. They need you to make them feel loved and safe. Don’t be afraid; you can do this and you will never be sorry. When you need it, grace will come and you will all be twice blessed.

And for goodness sake, keep your sense of humor! My fondest memory is of Betty animatedly conversing with the lady in the mirror, telling her one day how pretty she was and how glad she was to see her. Poignantly sad, yes, but that is still one of the good memories that balances out the painful ones. If you can’t laugh with a mother who turns herself upside down on the sofa so she can see someone behind her, or who giggles and talks nonstop in rhymes for a week, you will never survive and neither will they. I firmly believe that the moment that they step into heaven, memories released from a mental prison, they will be laughing along with you and marveling at how you stuck with them and gave them dignity and love even when they couldn’t ask.

Although it seems like the person you loved is already gone and only an empty shell is left, I found that they really are still in there somewhere and spending time with them will sometimes reward you with a fleeting glimpse of their spirit. Out of the blue Betty’s eyes would suddenly sparkle as she’d point no where in particular and say, “you know...” like she was in the middle of a conversation. And you know what? Somehow, we did know.

To The Rescue

This is Griz who has been a guest at Jen’s house while his owners went on a road trip. However, this past week he has been doubling as a nursemaid companion while Jen was down with Swine Flu and Pneumonia. This is not to diminish, of course, the roles of sisters Sarah and Danielle who trundled Jen to Urgent Care, dispensed meds throughout the night, and decontaminated patient, environment, and visitors, but Griz was the sole supplier of snuggles throughout fever, chills, and coughing fits around the clock. Sans mask and rubber gloves, and scoffing at Lysol products, he bravely committed himself to Jen’s comfort, even going so far as to take his meals with her in bed so that she might be better fortified. A grueling task, to be sure. Thanks, Griz!

P.S. The patient is now back to work and Griz is back home.

Not Your Typical Ninety-Six Year Old

Wow! Mom hit paydirt this birthday. I am so happy for her! It started at the end of Mass on Sunday, when the organist, Dolores, asked her to tell everyone how old she was going to be. After Mom announced that she would be 96, there were audible gasps of surprise and then everyone broke into applause before singing Happy Birthday to her. She was pleased at the attention and I was thankful that they all responded so warmly.

Today she was inundated throughout the day with more nice surprises. Cards, phone calls, flowers, and emails came from many family members, including grands and great grands. Two ladies from church, Helen and Della, also sent handmade cards, and Dorothy stopped in with a card and a loaf of bread still hot from her oven. It is so nice that the people here have embraced Mom. I know sometimes she feels left out because she can't do things to help and has trouble hearing in a crowd, but this effort by everyone reassures her that she is still cherished.

For our part, we catered her dinner wishes of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, Dorothy's bread, corn, and cheesecake for dessert with a later dish of homemade ice cream on the side. I broke my new red glazed stoneware dish in the process and served a slightly dry meatloaf, but she forgave me as she always does. Thanks to everyone for sending her your love and thanks be to God for her kind heart, good health, sharp mind, and young spirit.

Here's Mom with a new bathrobe and an Amarylis Don picked out for her. They are fun to watch grow and so beautiful when they flower. Happy Birthday, Mom. We all love you!

What Happened to Thanksgiving?

I can't believe I'm hearing Christmas music on the radio already! I thought it was rude to see Christmas decorations in the stores this early, but, really:  Frank Sinatra crooning "White Christmas" on November 1st?! Pu-lees. Besides, that's not my idea of Christmas music. If we're going to get into the spirit of Christmas this early, let's do it with a little more style. Transiberian Orchestra style...

Dear Betty,

Deb's grandkids:  3 Little Pigs

Last night was another Halloween; the sixth one since you left us. In the afternoon Don put out a few of our decorations while I worked on a window painting. Actually, rather than put a design directly on the window, I painted with acrylics onto a piece of plastic that we later taped to the window. Pretty ingenious, don’t you think? I know Vern would appreciate the idea. After the holiday I can roll it up and save it for another year; no mess, no fuss! We didn’t carve pumpkins this year, though. I know you would be disappointed if you were here, but it’s hard to find motivation for that now that our kids are grown. I always loved the results and the creativity, but hated the mess and effort.

Halloween was always more your holiday than mine. Remember in Fossil how you used to play a record of haunting sounds and dress as a witch to meet the kids at the door? As we sat at dinner last night, waiting for the first of over 60 trick-or-treaters we were to have this year, my mind went back to the first Hallowed Eve that you lived with us. The encroaching Alzheimers may have confused your thinking by then, but you were still you. The disease had not yet robbed you of the instincts that were based on long-term memories, making you who you were.

I’m not sure you could have told us that it was Halloween, but your hands had not forgotten; they still knew how to scoop out the inside of a pumpkin with very little prompting. I had fixed a simple, early dinner, but the sight of the first little goblin at the door destroyed all hopes of getting you to eat. As soon as you saw that little face, you were at the door, smiling and cooing at how cute he or she was. Don rushed over with the bowl of candy and helped you give one to the child, then steered you back to the table. During the next 15 minutes, you popped up more than a jack-in-the-box, so we finally gave up and Don placed a chair next to the front door for you to sit in between trick-or-treaters. It was a toss up who would get to the children first, you or Meggie, who was dressed up in her SuperMeg cape. Ironically, neither of you was interested in giving out the candy, just in greeting and fawning over the expectant visitors.

Yes, Halloween was definitely your holiday and our memories of your thorough enjoyment of it will always be with us. Thank you for reminding us how to find the joy in life; in the mundane repetitions that we often take very much for granted. As always, we miss you and your effervescent sense of fun and wonder, but we continue to keep you with us in spirit because you touched us deeply.

Love,

Your Family