Thanksgiving Miracle!

Last week before Ruth arrived, I asked Mom if she had any thoughts about Thanksgiving. I felt with only two weeks before the day of feasting, it was time to broach the subject. I know for many families, Thanksgiving is a time to gather together, share a great meal, watch some football, and give thanks for all God has provided. Traditionally in our family, at least for the last couple of years, my mom has told us to go away. Sort of the anti-Thanksgiving.

So, I asked Mom if she had any thoughts about Thanksgiving. She replied after a short pause, "Yes. Don't buy any pumpkin because I have about three quarts put up in the freezer." I managed to counter with, "Okay. But I was thinking more about the day. Have you thought about how you would like to spend the day?" Mom was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Let me think about it."

The next day, Mom invited us to come over for Thanksgiving! She said she felt sure I would end up doing all the work and that she might just sit in the red chair, retiring to her room when she needs a real nap. (Way to sell it.) I was overjoyed! And, as we talked about which tablecoth to use, since Mom has given away her swiss embroidered one, and which dishes to use, since Mom has given away her china, she began to get excited too.

Mom explained that she had asked her hospice nurse Christy about how to proceed. Christy encouraged Mom to participate in the holidays as much as she is able. The next time I see her, I need to thank Nurse Christy for her part in the Thanksgiving Miracle of 2011.

Fall Gardening

Karis sent me this picture of her Aunt Ruth and Grandma planting pansies this afternoon.

(Giggle.)

Too Long

I called this evening to check in with Mom. I've been sick for a couple of days, so I have been out of touch. Mom answered the phone and said, "Gwen! Long time no talk!" Which was really nice, but kind of funny because I was over at the house on Saturday. Anyway, we chatted for a while. Mom told me she was doing a whole lot of nothing and she was glad to see she still has a couple of breakfast tacos from Karis in the freezer. I asked her about Nurse Christy's visit today and Mom told me she tried a little morphine to see if it would help with her breathing, and also to see if she had any adverse reaction to the drug. No reaction, but she wasn't sure if it eased her breathing any.

Mom is trying to finish reading her book, the latest by Joel Rosenburg, before Ruth comes tomorrow. And that is some happy news! My sister Ruth is coming tomorrow. I don't know how long she is staying, but I'm glad she's coming and so is Mom.

I asked Mom if she had any thoughts on Thanksgiving and she replied, "Yes. Don't buy any pumpkin because I have three quarts in the freezer." I told her I was thinking more of plans for the day and wondered if she had spoken to anyone about it. She muttered something about "If I'm still here," and I reminded her it was right around the corner. I asked if she felt like having company or if she would rather come over, and she said she would think about it.

Mom commented that it was hard to believe Thanksgiving was coming up and I told her Christmas was only seven weeks away! That's when Mom said, "Well, we've been talking too long. Goodbye." Which might seem rude in a conversation with anyone else, but that's just the way things are. I'm just happy she said goodbye! And who knows, maybe she had to run to the bathroom or something.

Then I walked into the kitchen and saw the time. 8:00pm. Yup, time for Hannity. Gotta go.

Magic

Loren Magic. It's a special spell that only my big brother can cast over my mom. When he is here, she is so happy! She is like a kid again, taking trips, starting projects, cooking good food, and more. Really, the change is remarkable. While Loren was here for a week, he and Mom:

*Drove out to look at the lake, then dropped in to visit some old friends.
*Came to Nate's football game in a neighboring town.
*Went to a nursery in the next town to get some "expensive dirt" for a flower bed.
*Drove hours away to Bastrop to look at the fire damage from this summer.
*Went to a Robert Earl Keen concert.
*Carved a pumpkin and passed out candy on Halloween.

Really! I am not making this up. The hospice nurse remarked to Mom Tuesday, "You are doing so much better than last week!" Uh, yeah. It's the Loren Magic.

I tried guilting Loren into staying longer, but apparently the Magic is guilt-proof. I told him Mom's life is so much better when he is here. I forwarded a text from Karis that said, "I wish he never had to leave." Nothing. Completely impervious, wouldn't you know it.

Loren left early Wednesday morning and took his Magic with him. Karis texted me mid-morning that her grandma said, "I've lost my motivation now that Loren is gone." I knew Mom would revert to her former condition and the downhill slide, but I didn't know she would state it so clearly. This morning, she cancelled her plans to go to ladies' bible study because she felt dizzy and didn't want to risk going out. Here we go. I miss the Magic.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, Dad. I know you really wanted to see 90. I hope you got a big party today, complete with pineapple upside down cake. I made you one too, just like you always requested. I miss you.
Love you, Gwen

Grace Wins

Remember how I said I don't have to do this alone? My husband Dave wrote down his thoughts for me as I consider how to move forward with my mom. It's another one I keep reading over and over.

I believe this latest episode is hurtful for you. I am sorry that you are experiencing this much pain at the end when sweet melodies would be wonderful while holding hands with your Mom as she smiles. It might still come. I am sorry that she is not (has not ever been?) devoted to you at this point.

I believe that, currently, it is part of the whole independence thing. Your Mom has you to push against and that makes her feel alive. If she pushed and got nothing but air, she might fall down. You must be there to take the push. She would die more quickly if that happened. It is life-giving for her to push out in an absurd sort of way.

I also have thoughts on denial. I have always enjoyed the quote in your sidebar and I have always tried to understand the inborn hope that 'things will be different.' I don't think that is unrealistic. I don't even think it is necessarily denial. I think it is simply grace. You have sought to extend grace. Grace has a certain naivete to it. We know the history, but grace does not label. We see hopelessness for change, but grace sees the path of transformation. We have no control, but grace counter-intuitively invites us to that sort of release so that it can go to work.

"My grace is sufficient for you," says Jesus. It will fill you up like that fun foam fills every crack and crevice in a hole. Your heart has a big hole. Admit the weakness of your pain and allow the power of Jesus' grace to expand. He will bring healing to you. He will use you to continue to bring healing to your Mom.

I know it is your heart's desire to give and give and give. That is who you are. That is what you have lived with our family. I know that pain got the best of you Saturday/Sunday. I know that you can extend grace. Grace always wins. Go for it.


Thanks, Babe. You continue to be my rock.

Supersuit

As I was driving home with Meg and Ev this afternoon, it hit me. We had stopped to fill up the ever-thirsty suburban (which made so much sense when I was hauling four little people around, but now, not so much) and Ev began grousing about being denied a Sonic stop. Never mind that I had offered to buy her a drinky-winky at the gas station. Never mind that a coke is not a necessity of life. Ev's complaining made no sense at all and yet it bothered me. Really bothered me. Inordinately so.

And that's when I realized: I've lost my supersuit.

I used to have one. I used to be able to deflect criticism and guilt. I used to be impervious to the heat of other people's expectations and manipulations. I used to be bulletproof and disappointments would simply bounce off. But not any more. Now everything feels like a direct hit.

"This soup is missing something." Wham.
"Where's the bacon?" Ouch.
"Gwen should be the CEO of some company." Kerpow.
"Can we change plans?" Oof.
"I don't have clean football clothes." Kablam.
"We didn't save you a seat." Ack.

My brain tells me these are nothing, certainly not mortal wounds; but without my supersuit, each incident hits hard and leaves a mark. So how do I get it back? Where do you go to find a supersuit? I don't know, but I need to locate one fast.

Where is my supersuit?