Trust Me

Danielle’s friend, Ashley, began coming to the house to give Mom perms shortly after she earned her beautician’s license. After going without perms for several years because lying back in the chair or leaning too far forward made her dizzy, it was a huge treat for Mom to have it done again. Alas, however, Ashley eventually moved to Montana so it was a great surprise when she appeared at the door the other day wanting to set up a time to do Mom’s hair while she was home visiting family for the week.

Mom was on the tail end of recovering from the fluid build-up in her system that is an occasional arrhythmia complication, so her first reaction was that it would be too much effort. Taking a chance that she was actually able to weather the process, I insisted that we try so she begrudgingly let us roll her into the kitchen and start. These role-reversed decisions are becoming more frequent. Instead of her cornering me to take a bath, amid avid 8-year old protesting, it is now me pushing past her 98-year old grumping long enough to do something that I feel sure will please her in the end. And, thankfully, this time it did.

Because Ashley could not bring her perm supplies on the plane, she had gone to the trouble of purchasing new curlers, chemicals, and papers for this rendezvous. However, buying another special cape to wrap around Mom’s head and funnel the rinse water into the kitchen sink was not an option so we improvised by using a clean shower curtain of mine to fashion a substitute. The first time, it worked great, but silliness during the second rinse resulted in leaks and minor flooding on the floor. Of course, we stopped to take a picture because, by then, Mom was laughing and quite happy to overlook the drips.

I am thankful that the gamble paid off and Mom is enjoying her perm. Ashley promised to be back next Christmas to do it again, although, I suspect that Mom may not be up to it by then and the effort may too greatly outweigh the resulting pleasure. Some of her appointments are becoming too cumbersome for her now, as well. For instance, at her last annual eye exam she had to be transferred three or four times because her wheel chair didn’t get close enough to the machines. Yet only one of those tests is really necessary for maintaining her quality of life at this point. It is a hard call as to what is truly essential and when; caregivers in all walks of life need lots of prayers to help them make the right decisions at the right moments.

Dear God

I would like to respectfully register a complaint about the lack of adequate communication between us. Although I heartily accept all the responsibility for every misunderstanding, I have to lay the problem of fixing it at your feet because I can’t do it myself. That’s right; I’m happy to openly admit it: I need your help. And, we’re talking about ALWAYS, here, not just once to pacify me for the moment.

This journey we are on takes us through a breathtaking world of harrowing, mysterious, and truly incredible moments. Kudos to you for the planning and imagination that you took to create it. It is certainly quite the ride! I know you have done all of the hard part and I shouldn’t expect any more from you, but, let’s face it…I do. I love that your Son has shown us the way and I treasure the experiences of hearing your Spirit’s breathy whisper in my ear as I try to maneuver through the unknown, but – and I don’t mean to sound unappreciative here – could you please be a little less subtle with the directions?

If I remember correctly, we have had this discussion before. Perhaps you thought I meant just the once…or twice…or three times that I asked, but surely by now you know that I am a slow learner (and stubborn to boot, although, I really am trying to work on that). Besides that, we now have to add slightly deaf in one ear, unsure, self-absorbed, and forgetful to the list of issues that make me short-sighted.

These decisions and choices that I keep stumbling over probably seem simple and clear to you, but I really struggle sometimes in knowing what to do. I don’t mean the black and white, good and evil type of choices, but the gray area decisions about what to do with my life. The ones that are not necessarily right or wrong, but will somehow affect the next choice. As is evident throughout my pilgrimage, a small turn can have a significant impact down the road. So, from here on out, could you please add me to the list of handicapped followers who need obvious signs. Not the little nudges and whispers that are enough for holier people than me, but huge, flashing arrows and bright neon signs that say, “Michelle, go THIS way! Love, God.” Yell it in a voice that I will recognize as yours and, when I stand frozen with indecision, please give me a hard shove in the right direction to make sure I get moving.

Anyway, “Ask and you shall receive, knock and it shall be opened,” so here I am, respectfully asking for some clarification. Please don’t leave me in the middle of any more intersections, dizzy from spinning around as I try to discern which is the best path for me. (You know I will mess it up on my own!) I promise to continue trying to keep myself open to your will, watching for your footsteps, listening for your voice, calling your name, if you will but speak louder, write more boldly in the sky, and grab me by the scruff of the neck and drop kick me into place when I miss the gentler cues. Life is precious and I don’t want to waste any more of it wandering in the wrong direction.

Love,
Your struggling child (M.)

I Can't Decide

“Seldom right, but never in doubt.” That is the motto of someone with whom I used to work. It suited her to a tee, but it certainly doesn’t describe me. Okay, I may rarely be right, but “doubt” should be my middle name because I can waffle over anything: what restaurant I want to go to, which shirt to wear, who to vote for. It is pathetic how long I can drag out making up my mind about some things.

Don is much the same, which means that major family decisions are torturous. Buying a new computer or car is an idea that has to be kicked around at least two years. For one thing, we both see all the gray areas in any discussion and until we’ve sorted through all of those, as well as the major issues, we cannot rest with our decisions. All in all, it isn’t a bad way to be; plodding, but thorough. Once our minds are finally made up, we have usually made a decent decision; if we live through the agony of the process, that is.

Lately, I have been trying to decide whether to pursue a special education endorsement. Talk about gray areas. I have made a pro and con list, researched programs and costs, discussed it with a variety of people, and even watched for signs from Heaven, but the answer doesn’t seem to be very obvious. Will this endorsement prepare me to step through doors that will soon open for those who are ready? Or is my life going to go in a completely different direction anyway so it doesn’t even matter what I do about this particular issue? Egad! Where is that Decision Fairy when I need her?

Now, what shall I fix for dinner?