Wake Me Up When September Ends

It’s only mid-August, but it seems like the summer has flown by. I feel a little wistful every year about this time. It’s as if another summer has passed me by, and I didn’t get to swim nearly as many times as I would’ve liked. Okay, I’ll quit whining. I did get to do quite a few things.

One highlight of our summer was a trip to see my cousins Joe and Catherine back at the end of June. The occasion was Joe’s birthday, but it was combined with a visit from Catherine’s siblings and their wives (she has 4 brothers), as well as my cousin Sue and my uncle Paul (who is 93 years young and still gets around quite well without a cane). The extended weekend was fun. We sat around and chatted a lot, celebrated Joe’s birthday on Saturday, finally got to meet little Stella, Joe’s 18-month-old granddaughter who is absolutely delightful, went to Busch Gardens and rode several rides (I, however, didn’t participate in the roller coaster rides with younger cousins Nick and Stephanie. There just comes a point in one’s adult life when you realize that maybe slinging around in a roller coaster and having your heart come to the top of your throat just before you go sailing down a steep incline and get jerked around side to side may not be the best thing for your body). Joe and I road the Log Flume, and I wish I had bought the picture of us at the top of the hill just before we went sailing down to come to a nice splashy end. I screamed for all I was worth! It was good to see family and friends who have become family that weekend. Mona and Craig made the trek from Louisiana via Michigan and were on their way back home with Mona’s parents…what a long trip! John and I had a fun weekend then.

We got back home barely in time to prepare for Julie, our 24-year-old daughter’s, arrival back home from 2 years in Madrid. It is interesting (on both sides) to get used to living with a young adult and trying not to revert to old patterns. So far I haven’t done as well as I’d hoped, because Julie reminds me that I nag her constantly. Oh well. Guess it’s in the mom jeans, I mean genes, but that doesn’t mean I have to voice every thought. And a funny thing I’ve noticed is my tendency (our tendency) to blame misplaced objects on Julie rather than ourselves. I told John we needed to stop jumping to conclusions…we may be the ones who are putting things in weird places, and in many cases “the enemy” was us! I will say I am quite proud of Julie for not sitting around on her duff and waiting for jobs to come to her. The first week she was home, jet lag notwithstanding, she applied for 20 jobs. She had a job before she had been home 2 weeks. It’s not one she wants to be working at very long, but she felt the need to make some money and get on the way to supporting herself, and I say Bravo! to that. She is trying to figure out the next chapter of her life, but meanwhile she is hostessing, waiting tables, doing whatever is needed at Coco’s Italian Restaurant, a popular restaurant in Nashville. She is working hard, and we’re somewhat like two ships passing in the night, because our schedules rarely jibe. But maybe that’s for the best, because it may mean less conflict.

And then there’s my dad. John and I moved him to an assisted living facility in Canton, NC back at the end of December after he’d lived with us for 13 months while undergoing treatment for chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Turns out he wasn’t exactly in assisted living but in an apartment that provided some services (like assistance with bathing and administering his medications, plus 3 meals a day, and housecleaning once a week) he needed. He experienced several falls (none of them major, thank God…just mostly slips from his bed and one fall as he was backing into the bathroom, holding onto his walker and he lost his balance and fell back toward the commode). John and I went to NC the first week of August (left on a Saturday; returned on Monday) and were checking on him. While John was trying to arrange a primary number for the service my dad has been paying for in which he wears a pendant around his neck that he can push if he falls, the head nurse came by his apartment and told us that a spot had opened up at the assisted living facility just across the street (there are several buildings in this facility), and she thought Daddy would get a better level of care there. While I was trying to absorb all this, I asked if we could go take a look at the room, and we put Daddy in his transport chair and took him over there. The huge downside is that he did not have a bathroom in his room but had to walk down the hall a short distance (and share a bathroom with all the residents on his hall). There are 4 bathrooms for about 26 residents, not an ideal situation. When you’re 92, you don’t need to try to remember to gather supplies to go to the bathroom like you did in college … plus, it’s just hard to go down the hall to a bathroom. I didn’t take in this information at the time (being under a little duress, with our having planned to leave by 2:00 p.m. so we could get home to Nashville at a reasonable time to prepare for going back to work the next day), but there was no sink in Daddy’s room.

So back John and I went to Canton/Waynesville the following weekend, and in the meantime Daddy had a rough week trying to adjust to his new home. He has expressed dissatisfaction, saying he feels like he’s in prison. I didn’t know exactly what to say. I usually try to put a positive spin on things, but there was not much positive to emphasize in this situation. About that time my stepsister and her daughter and son-in-law came over to visit Daddy, and I quickly went outside to call an assisted living place in Nashville that we’d looked at and nearly signed papers to admit Daddy back in December, when we got the e-mail from the assisted living place (we thought it was assisted living, but according to NC law, it’s a multihousing unit, and it’s private pay only…and they do have a dining room and one CNA on staff, and the nurse comes by every day to check on the residents, but they are pretty much on their own) where Daddy had decided he wanted to go, and they had a vacancy. I talked with him about it, and I wanted to let him be part of the decision. Of course, he chose to return to NC because he was quite homesick for Canton, and he had felt pretty isolated here in Nashville. His main activity was going to the doctor’s office, getting treatment, and occasionally getting out to the drugstore or to Kroger or Costco, and often that was with John. He went to church with us a few times, but staying for both Sunday school and the worship service was too taxing/stressful for him.

So I let Daddy make that decision, and it has not worked out great for either him or us. Not to mention placing a burden on my stepsister and stepbrother, who have to take him to doctor appointments and get constant calls about supplies he needs from Wal-mart.

After he moved on August 5 to the “new” (really old, more than 100 years old) assisted living facility with the bathrooms down the hall from his room, John and I decided that we just needed to suck it up, admit we’d made a bad decision, and find a place for Daddy in Nashville. Sometimes you just have to say, “I am sorry, I was wrong.” That certainly applies in this situation. I also say, “I made the best decision I could with the information I had available at the time.” So be it.

We got back home late Monday night (around 10:15 p.m. Eastern, 9:15 Central time), and we both prepared to go to work on Tuesday. We had an appointment with an assisted living place here at 9:00 a.m. Tuesday. I was a little bothered (well, a lot bothered) by the distance Daddy would have to walk to get from his apartment there to the dining room. There’s a shortcut across the courtyard, but that wouldn’t work very well in bad weather, and the walk around the facility to the dining room was even longer than the distance he’d had to walk from his apartment to the dining room at his first “assisted living” residence, and that was challenging enough for him.

So back to the drawing board. John called another facility that I’d already taken a look at in December, and he made an appointment for after work a couple of days later. We toured it, and even though it is a “high-rise” residence (8 floors), there is an apartment available very close to the elevator, and Daddy will have a short distance to walk to get to the dining room. He will also get the assistance he needs to find his way around, and the RN/sales manager said that they would train him in fall prevention and there were physical therapists available who can work with him to do some strengthening exercises. Daddy is really good about doing PT exercises; he’s been practicing almost daily since he had home health care with PT just before moving to Nashville.

So the next thing is getting him moved here, and we are preparing for that. Oh, I forgot to mention one other minor thing. I am having heart surgery sometime around the first of September. It’s for atrial fibrillation and sounds like it’s not too major (an ablation), except for any time you have general anesthesia and are cut on, it’s “major surgery,” in my opinion. So there goes the rest of the summer…and I am praying for strength and sanity to get through all these changes…and the patience to explain it all to Daddy and perhaps take over his finances and then just do what I need to do for him to help him get settled. I am so thankful that John is by my side to look out for me and his father-in-law, and I’m glad Julie and Daniel are around to visit their granddad as their work schedules permit. Together we’ll get through it all, moving Daddy and having my surgery, and just adjusting to a new season of life.

So yeah, I’m a little sad about summer’s end and the usual crazy schedule of fall as we return to a busier schedule. This fall will be different. I will have to be mindful of my physical limitations. Somehow it will all turn out for the best. I know a certain person to whom I pray and place my trust in…that Person watches over me and my dad and cares about what happens to both of us. Oh, and by the way, God cares for all people, so we wouldn’t be anything special, except for the fact that the Bible tells us (and I get the strong sense from attending my church) that even the hairs on our heads are numbered, and we do not need to worry…that God’s got us covered.

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Pausing for Gratitude

This morning I awoke with a heart full of gratitude. My life isn’t perfect, but as we say in my native East Tennessee, it’s “purt near” (pretty close to) that. Allow me to explain.

First, my husband and I were fortunate to be able to go on a trip to Spain for two weeks this March, something we’d been saving for for over 2 years. Our daughter has been there since September 2013, assisting teachers at an elementary school. She graduated from Millsaps College in Jackson, MS, in May 2013 with a Spanish major, a concentration in voice (in between a minor and a major; she had to give a junior and senior voice recital), and experience in theater. With all of her college activities and our financial status at the time, we were unable to work it out for her to do a study-abroad program. The one she selected was $12,000 for a semester (and that didn’t include tuition at Millsaps). We simply could not swing that financially. I told her at the time that though she was disappointed, I bet we could find a way for her to go abroad after graduation. She did a lot of investigation and discovered that for a fraction of the cost (around $2,500) she could go to Spain for an entire year with the same program that would have cost $12,000 for a semester.

Our plan was to go visit her the first year she was in Madrid. But in November 2013 my 90-year-old dad (almost 91) was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia. We wound up moving him from Canton, NC to our home so he could be with us while undergoing treatment. He responded well to oral and IV chemo and lived with us for 13 months. When he went to the doctor in November 2014, his white blood cell count was in the normal range and the doctor used the word “remission” to describe his condition. He was scheduled for another infusion in January. Meanwhile, my husband (John) had been pushing me to find assisted living for my dad. Daddy had taken a couple of spills at our house…not serious falls that resulted in broken bones, but enough to alarm us a bit.

Ironically, we began our search for assisted living at the busiest time of year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Daddy had been on a waiting list for a place in Canton, NC since November 2013 (he and I had visited a few places around Halloween and he decided that he liked one of them, so he paid a deposit to be placed on the waiting list). He got two calls from the admissions director while he was in Nashville, one in November, I believe, and another in March. At that time he was not strong enough (nor had he undergone enough treatment) to make the move, so he had to decline.

In early December 2014 John and I had narrowed down our choices to three assisted living facilities in Nashville. I visited one near our church the day of our Feast of Lights (our church’s big Advent concert) dress rehearsal and went home to tell Daddy about it. He was not impressed when I told him it was a high-rise, even though it was located near my work and church and he would have had a great view of downtown Nashville.

In the meantime, John visited an assisted living center a couple of miles from our house and was impressed with it. I went one day after work to check it out, and I too was impressed. We found out a guy who had gone to our previous church was a resident of this senior living community, and he seemed pretty happy with it. I called his daughter to see how her experience of dealing with the assisted living had been, and she told me she was happy with the way they had cared for her dad. We made arrangements for John to take my dad there for lunch one weekday and let him see the senior living community.

The same day John and my dad visited this assisted living near our home, I opened my gmail and discovered and e-mail from the admissions director of the assisted living facility in Canton where my dad had originally wanted to live. I couldn’t help but think the timing was more than just coincidence. When I told my dad later that day (after inquiring about how his visit went to the assisted living near our house and receiving a halfhearted reply that it was “nice”) about the e-mail, his eyes lit up. We talked some more and decided that we would move him back to North Carolina (though I had reservations about being 5 hours away from him).

On December 26 John and I left to take Daddy back to Canton. We spent the weekend at the house where he and his wife (who’s 96 and in a nursing home) had lived since their marriage in 1994. We went to Daddy’s church, First Baptist of Canton, on Sunday. Then on Monday the 29th we moved him to his new home.

So we got back to our life in Nashville and resumed our 3rd interval of the empty nest. We have had only short times of “empty nest” since our younger child went to college in 2009 and our son graduated from college the same year. The first period was from August to December of that year; then Daniel graduated and moved back home for two years. After he moved out in January 2013 into an apartment of his own (YAY! got that young adult launched!), John and I enjoyed a few months of empty nest until Julie’s graduation from college in May. She stayed in Jackson a couple of weeks after graduation so she could participate in her church’s musical production of some big work that I have since forgotten (maybe Mendelssohn’s Elijah?). Anyway, this little chick boomeranged back to our home in late May, and she lived with us until she departed for Spain in September.

All along I’ve had big plans…to turn Julie’s room into a guest room, to invite people to come visit (we’ve never had a spare bedroom because John’s office is in Daniel’s old bedroom), to redecorate our living room, to remodel our kitchen…well, actually, I just wanted new flooring in our kitchen, but that project has grown to a remodel thanks to John’s imagination.

But those plans have had to go by the wayside, because it seems that some surprise always intrudes. In this case it was my dad’s illness. So the next interval of empty nest lasted from mid-September until the end of November, when my dad moved here and took up residence in Julie’s bedroom.

Things got interesting last September when Julie came home for a 3-week visit. We prepared her for the fact that she would not have her own bedroom. We created a makeshift bedroom in our dining room, and she dealt with that quite well. It was good for her to get to spend time with her “Pepaw” (as she & Daniel call their granddad), and her 3-week visit was just long enough.

After my dad moved back to North Carolina, I noticed that over the next few weeks I started to feel more energetic. Now this is something I really appreciate, because I have two autoimmune disorders (I am the queen of weird diseases). For about the previous year and a half, maybe longer, I had been feeling exhausted and just barely getting by thanks to naps and walking and doing yoga.

Gradually I began to sense my spirits lifting. I started walking with a new spring in my step. I spent more time looking up and out at the beauty around me. It occurred to me that a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. This does not mean that everything is perfect in regard to my dad’s health or my own. But for now things are good. Daddy is 92, and I realize he probably won’t be around much longer. While we were in Spain, he had a “spell” when his legs just gave out (collapsed), and the assisted living place called me to report that he had fallen in the bathroom. Turns out he fell twice more that day. My stepsister also called the next day or so to apprise me of the situation. I worried about Daddy, I prayed for him, and I decided there wasn’t a whole lot I could do from Spain besides pray. He improved this time. He has been doing physical therapy, and he is now able to walk again. My stepsister has taken him to a new oncologist, and they are watching him (without treating him with chemo) for now. Our oncologist in Nashville (actually the nurse practitioner, who has been marvelous about supporting us over the past 16 months) said that surveillance is not a bad practice for patients with chronic lymphocytic leukemia.

I feel like I have a new lease on life right now. I am grateful to have the energy to clean house. Never thought I would appreciate that! And while John and I were in Spain, I had the energy to walk and walk…at least two days I clocked over 11,000 steps on my pedometer. I returned home to spring in Nashville, indeed a glorious sight, with redbuds, daffodils, tulips, and dogwoods in bloom. I hear birds singing outside our window, and our cat welcomed us home with extra affection. Our son, Daniel, took great care of Lily the cat (I call her Lily Bo Peep because she has a little sheep toy that she just loves) while we were gone. He is now off on an adventure of his own, a road trip to Washington, DC and Philadelphia.

I believe it’s a good practice to pause every now and then (actually, this should be a FREQUENT practice…because it does one’s heart good) to say thank you to God for this marvelous, challenging, wondrous life. Thank you, Lord. My heart is full of love and gratitude for you, especially in the wake of Easter.

Praise be to God for the glorious gifts with which he blesses us each day!

Confessions of a Worried Daughter

“How easily we forget that God designed aging! … Once you truly acknowledge that aging is part of God’s plan, you can begin to embrace it as a divine gift.”

—Missy Buchanan, Aging Faithfully

I’m trying to view aging positively, but reality is hitting hard, breathing down my neck, whispering and sometimes shouting, “Your dad is in decline. It’s time to make some decisions now—before his physical decline becomes a full-blown crisis.”

You’ve probably heard the statistics. The fastest-growing segment of the U.S. population is over 85. According to a 2011 study, the number of Americans who provide care for their aging parents has tripled since 1994. Caregiving has become one of the major concerns of our time, with the number of senior baby boomers rising exponentially and the increased longevity of our elderly population.

  • How do we care for our elderly parents while treating them with dignity and allowing them to have a say in their future?
  • How do we step in when necessary and make tough decisions, becoming almost like parents to our own parents?
  •  How do we manage this transition without losing our sanity?

I’ve been pondering these questions for some time as I think about my 90-year-old dad. Alas, I cannot come up with any simple solutions.

My dad is married, lives 5 hours away from me, and has a wife who suffers from dementia and lives in a nursing home. My stepmother is 94.

As an only child, I feel responsible for my dad’s well-being and long to be closer to him so I can check on him more often. He clings to his independence quite fiercely, still driving and only recently having acquiesced to using a cane. He lives alone in his home.

My dad with me in the Agape Garden of The Upper Room, summer 2009

Over the past decade, we’ve had many conversations about his future. At one point he was ready to move to Nashville so he could be closer to me. But he feels the pull of honoring his marriage vows.

We’ve had several health scares since Dad had quadruple bypass surgery 9 years ago. Each time he’s had surgery, I have taken time off work and traveled to North Carolina to be with him during his hospitalization and to help for a few days afterward. The last time he had general anesthesia, things did not go well, and I had to make temporary arrangements for home health care.

I am blessed and grateful that my stepsister, who lives next door to Daddy, checks in on him daily. Though she has willingly dressed wounds when I’ve had to resume my normal life in Nashville, I realize this is becoming a heavy burden for her.

I have dealt with this increasingly stressful (and guilt-inducing) situation by worrying about it constantly or psychologically distancing myself, neither of which has been a helpful coping mechanism or altered the reality we face.

So many questions plague me. Do I move Daddy to Nashville, and if so, how do I do this without strong-arming him? Does he need to move to assisted living in the facility where my stepmother resides? Would providing in-home care be a better alternative?

As I mentioned above, my dad and I have talked around these issues. Our discussions have been brief (usually due to being in the midst of a crisis) and leave me feeling unsettled.

The last time I went to be with him during and after minor surgery, I had prepared myself to address the future head-on. But somehow, after watching him sign the consent forms for surgery and sedation and being reminded that he shouldn’t make any major decisions that day, I just couldn’t in good conscience bring up the issue of “What do we do now?” Meaning, of course, what plans do we need to make to address the reality in which we find ourselves? As much as I wish, things will not just get better if we do nothing.

Me and my dad, Christmas 2011

In my head I know that I “should” not worry. But my heart tells me otherwise.

I have prayed and asked God to help me discern the best course of action. I have talked to friends in similar situations. And of course, as I always do, I have sought out books for advice and information.

One book that has been especially helpful in this journey is A Bittersweet Season: Caring for Our Aging Parents—And Ourselves by Jane Gross (Vintage Books, 2011). I was attracted to the book because Jane Gross is a New York Times journalist and an expert on elder care. She speaks from the experience of finding care for her 85-year-old mother, who was already in assisted living but suddenly was forced by a health crisis to seek alternative arrangements. Gross offers tips for working with siblings to find the best care options for elderly parents, dealing with the maze of Medicaid and Medicare, addressing financial concerns, understanding adult children’s needs and practicing self-care as we care for our parents, and much more.

As I’ve prayed, I have meditated on the following scriptures and readings:

Even before a word is on my tongue,

O LORD, you know it completely.

You hem me in, behind and before,

and lay your hand upon me.”

—Psalm 139: 1-2, 4-5 (NRSV)

“Therefore, I [Jesus] say to you, don’t worry about your life, what you’ll eat or what you’ll drink, or about your body, what you’ll wear. … Look at the birds in the sky. They don’t sow seed or harvest grain or gather crops into barns. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than they are? Who among you by worrying can add a single moment to your life? … Therefore, stop worrying about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

—Matthew 6:25-27, 34 (CEB)

“Gracious God, I thank you for the answered prayers in my life, especially …

_________________________________________. Quiet the noises in my soul and let me hear you. Be near to me in this journey. Amen.”

—Missy Buchanan, Aging Faithfully: 28 Days of Prayer

“Life is like a good book. There are countless times when we don’t have the foggiest understanding abut what’s happening. We puzzle over how the characters, the plot, themes, and episodes fit into the story. We read on, trusting that everything will make sense in the end. We believe somehow times of fear, bewilderment, and confusion will change to wonder, grace and revelation when we reach the concluding words. In the meantime, we read on. We simply show up, walk humbly with our God, and anticipate the next chapter of our life’s story.”

—Nell Noonan, Not Alone: Encouragement for Caregivers

In the meantime, I wait and pray for wisdom—sometimes not too patiently.

I also pray for those of you who provide daily care for a loved one and for those who work in senior care facilities. Your job is not easy.

I’ve had glimpses of what it takes to be a full-time caregiver. May God bless you in your caregiving journey.

May you find peace and strength, and may you feel the truth of Galatians 6:9 (CEB): “Let’s not get tired of doing good, because in time we’ll have a harvest if we don’t give up.”

Recommended Reading

Missy Buchanan, Living with Purpose in a Worn-Out Body: Spiritual Encouragement for Older Adults (Upper Room Books, 2008). While this book is written primarily for elderly adults who are in physical or mental decline, it gives adult children understanding of the emotions and daily challenges their parents are experiencing.

Trevor Hudson, The Serenity Prayer: A Simple Prayer to Enrich Your Life (Upper Room Books, 2012). A good resource to help caregivers and others accept the situation they are in, relinquish their burdens to God, and find peace even in the midst of chaos.

Nell E. Noonan, Not Alone: Encouragement for Caregivers (Upper Room Books, 2009). Written by an author who was thrust into the situation of becoming caregiver for her husband, this book of 150 devotions is Bible-based, uplifting and yet realistic about the burdens of caregivers, plus it offers inspirational stories and prayers. I gave this book to a friend caring for her mother, who had Alzheimer’s; she reports that she read it over and over, underlining and highlighting portions of it, and this book got her through many a tough day.

Nell E. Noonan, The Struggles of Caregiving: 28 Days of Prayer (Upper Room Books, 2011). Another book by Noonan that helps caregivers cope with their frustration, questions about faith, guilt, and struggles.

This blog was originally written for Upper Room Books and posted on their website in July 2012 (in two parts).

The Sweetest Thing My Husband Ever Did

I guess you could call this part 2 of my blog on “What Makes a Relationship Work?” As I write this, my husband, John, is headed to North Carolina to be with my dad and tend to his surgical site. I just returned from being with Daddy (who’s 89 and had outpatient surgery for a growth on his neck on Monday) for a few days. He’s had continuing problems with the left side of his face, starting with surgery for a melanoma back in December 2011.

I feel like the luckiest woman in the world right now. I wanted to spend more time with my dad and felt bad leaving him the day after surgery, although he was doing well.  If I’d had my “druthers,” I would have stayed for 2 or 3 more days. But here’s the deal:  our family has already planned a vacation trip to the DC area for a cousin’s wedding (leaving on June 22 and returning June 26), and at my work we are trying to get a catalog finished by the end of this month, so it’s not a good time to be away from the office for extended periods.

I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed that the pathology results from Monday’s surgery will come back clean as a whistle. Before I got to my dad’s, all I knew was that the lump was on his neck. When I got there and saw the location of the tumor, I noticed it was directly under the site of his squamous cell carcinoma surgeries (he had to go back three times to have all of it removed until the margins were clear). Fear rose in my chest. I’m praying that the tumor is benign. Perhaps I should take consolation in the fact that the surgeon told me it looked good to his naked eye.

But this is my dad we’re talking about. John knew, without my having to ask, that I would feel better if someone from our family was with Daddy. He has a more flexible schedule now that school is out. If Daddy gets bad news, there will be a representative from our family with him.

Meanwhile, we wait. And John has definitely racked up some major “Good Hubby” points.

[Update 6/14/12: The pathology report came back with good news. Whew.]

89 and Still Kickin’

John and I just got back from a quick trip to see my dad. He’s 89 and is doing very well for his age, though I can tell some differences every time I see him. His balance is a little off, his hearing is getting worse, and his eyesight is growing dim.

Daddy is the lone survivor of his family. He is the next to youngest of 5 siblings who survived to adulthood. His dad died when my dad was 9 of “silicosis,” attributed to his occupation of working in a sand quarry. Daddy had twin sisters; one of them, Etta, died at age 18 months of diphtheria. His younger brother, Bob, died of stomach cancer several years ago; his sister Callie died of ovarian cancer several years before that. We haven’t stayed in close contact with his sister Marie’s family, but she passed sometime in the last decade, as well as his oldest sibling, Kate (who lived into her 90s, I think).

Daddy reminds me a lot of his mother (Mary Maggie Blessing Leonard) except he is not a “sad-sack,” as my mom described her. He has seen a lot of loss during his life and has had many health challenges in the past 10 years. I never realized how strong and determined he was until I saw him fight back from quadruple bypass surgery at age 80 (followed by prostate surgery a month later…talk about a shock to one’s system).

I am well aware that each time I visit him may be my last time to see him, so I’ve vowed to get to North Carolina as often as I can (considering that I still have a full life in Nashville). I so wish that we could move him here to Nashville, but his wife, Helen, is still alive and in a nursing home. She turns 94 on April 15. She has dementia…deja vu for Daddy, as my mother, Niece, had Parkinson’s-related dementia and was in a nursing home for 2 years before her death in 1991.

Thanks be to God for my dad and his longevity (and his stubbornness, which I think has added years to his life). As an only child and his daughter, I have been blessed to have a close relationship with him. He has a sense of humor that I have only discovered in the years since my mom died. I hope I am like him when I get old…joking about “old Arthur,” his constant companion (arthritis) and how getting old isn’t for sissies.  We’ve had a good life together.

Spring Break!

Last week I had a stomach bug for 3 days, and it was dragging me down. I managed to make it to work (not knowing it was a bug but thinking it was something I ate) for 2 of the 3 days but finally surrendered on Friday when I began running a fever and my symptoms grew worse.

I had planned to take today (Monday) off so I could chauffeur my husband home from his colonoscopy. Had been toying with the idea of taking a few days off this week, because he’s on spring break from substitute teaching. Friday sealed the deal. Seemed like my body was telling me it’s time to rest.

So since I have a holiday on Good Friday anyway, this week seemed like the perfect opportunity to take a few days off and enjoy the beautiful weather we’ve had lately. We’re going to North Carolina tomorrow to see my dad. At age 89, he’s doing pretty well, but at that age you never know how long someone will be around.

Holy Week seems a good time to be off…more time to slow down and contemplate all the events of this week 2,000 years ago when Jesus was crucified and arose from the dead on Easter morning. I guess you could call it the High Holy Week for Christians. But to get to the heights, you have to journey through some dark valleys.

I am humbled and awed when I think of Jesus’ sacrifice for people he didn’t even know. It’s one thing to be willing to die for someone you know and love; it is another to take upon oneself the sins of the whole world. May we all appreciate our God-given gift of life and the sacrifice of his beloved Son. “Amazing love, how can it be that thou, my God, would die for me?”  (Charles Wesley’s hymn “And Can It Be”)

Blessings to all this Holy Week.