Yesterday afternoon, Karis picked up Mom to join us at Dave's parents for Easter dinner. We really wanted to be together, but nobody was up for a big to-do, so Dave's mom hosted and we brought the food: sandwiches. I'm not kidding! The deli counter lady told me Saturday that I was her best customer all day. I replied that probably most people weren't having sandwiches for Easter dinner. I thought it was great; everybody was happy, and nobody was worn out from preparations.
The insight came when we were all seated around the table to pray. Afterward, someone offered to fix Mom's plate. She avowed that she would fix her own plate, then added:
That's the problem with old age. People treat you like a baby!
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Mom definitely wants to do what she can, as long as she can, and not be served until she has no other choice than to be helped. She complained about the offer of heating her rice bag for her, when I was there. But she was quite happy to have us cleaning out and doing things she knew she couldn't do. Such a difficult thing, to not offer to do things she can do, but to do the things for her than she cannot do.
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