Flowering Crabapple

Crabapple. You certainly wouldn't want to eat the fruit, but the tree is gorgeous, especially at this time of year. 

It was a difficult weekend. And a wonderful weekend. 

We made the 500 mile drive to Pennsylvania on Thursday. One truck packed with Grandma's belongings, driven by Verne, and Abigail as his companion. One mini-van packed with people: Collin, Mac, Jon, Autumn, Grandma, and me. Two stops. Nine and a half hours. 

We had Grandma's possessions unloaded at my parent's home in no time, and then made our way to Verne's parents to set up camp for the weekend. All three boys in a borrowed travel camper, girls in the living room, and spare bedroom, Verne and I in his boyhood room. Sleep didn't come easy. 

Living so far away makes for difficult visits. We ride in the car from one relative to another, making sure that we see everyone in a short amount of time. Friday we dutifully made our rounds. Verne's grandpa in the hospital, my pap in the assisted living facility, Verne's grandma in her home. Never knowing if this will be the last time we might see them as they're 95, 84, and 87, respectively. Aunts and cousins popping in here and there made for lively conversation. 

Saturday we visited old neighbors, and then met my family at my parent's home. I'd like to have a nickel for every time Jon was asked how tall he is over the weekend. He would, too. And then, it was time to say goodbye to Grandma for we'd be leaving in the morning. And it wasn't easy. Three years is a long time to live with someone. 

We made our way to Dayton, OH, to visit our dear friends and worship in our former church. Such a sweet time of fellowship!  

We arrived back home shortly before 2 AM. I'm exhausted. More emotionally than physically which leaves me surprised. 

Laundry. And more laundry. And waiting for Grandma to wake and come to the kitchen, but she doesn't. 

 

Spring Sing

For the last four and months we've been practicing song after song on Sunday evenings in preparation to visit an assisted living facility. Tonight was the big night for our "Spring Sing". Despite the fact that practice doesn't always make perfect, we had fun, and the residents enjoyed themselves immensely. 

Our program was divided into two halves: a spiritual section in which we sang six or seven songs proclaiming the redeeming love of our Savior, and a secular section in which we sang many songs from the 1920's and '30's. The secular half also featured some dancing, and quite a few costume changes. 

At the conclusion of the program, several young women in our group handed out crochet flower pins that they had made themselves to the women in the audience. Jon and Aaron were dressed like vendors in a ballpark and served homemade crackerjack and cookies that were decorated like baseballs. 

What a worthwhile evening! To see the smiles on the faces of these elderly people, to watch them singing as they recalled these songs that had been popular in the days of their youth, made each practice so worth the time. Perfect? No. There were plenty of mistakes, but I dare say not one of those residents cared. 

A Time for Everything

For everything there is a season, 

and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted; 

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up; 

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose; 

a time to keep, ad a time to cast away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew; 

a to to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

God's word brings such comfort when I feel like such a failure. On March 30, 2006, my maternal grandmother came to live with us. We were excited at the prospect of multiple generations living together under one roof. Oh the possibilities! Grandma bringing her wisdom, and her great grandchildren bringing to her a childhood that she left behind many years ago.

I envisioned long afternoons of baking, and playing games of Scrabble and Yahtzee. It was not to be, though. For the most part, Grandma spends her days tucked in her own room, reading or watching TV.  She joins us for meals and continues to stay at the table while Verne reads a chapter of Scripture to us afterward. Then back to her room she goes. 

Though I wish it were not so, I know that she feels all alone, despite living in a home full of activity. We invite her to church, and she refuses to come. We ask her to join us on outings, or to sit with us in the evenings, but she doesn't want to intrude. We've tried time and again to explain that she's part of our family and certainly isn't intruding, but she won't budge. 

I've asked myself many times over what I could do differently. I've tried approaching the situation from all angles, and have failed each time.

About 8 months ago, Grandma simply told me that old people and young people have nothing in common. 

I cried. 

I cook from scratch, but it doesn't taste like her cooking. 

I hang the laundry on the line, but it's too stiff. 

I take my children to sporting events, or music lessons, or doctor appointments, and I run too much. 

I'm not faulting Grandma. She's nearly 85, and set in her ways, but I'm exhausted. It's difficult to please everyone, and my husband and children can not and will not be neglected. 

On April 2, 2009, nearly three years to the day that she came to live with us, we'll drive Grandma to Pennsylvania where she'll reside with my parents. She's excited about going, and seems to have no ill feelings, for which I'm very thankful.

I have no regrets about bringing Grandma here in the first place. I hope and pray that we have all gained something from the experience, and take great comfort in the fact that God knows the details even when I don't. 

Good Morning, Glory!

Ever since I can remember, this is how Grandma has greeted me in the morning. She says that her grandfather said the same to her when she was young. Some days though, I say, "Good morning, Grandma!" for her to grumble back, "What's so good about it?" Truthfully, I feel the same way at times, I just don't express it that way. At least she's honest!


The weather has been beautiful here. The temperature has been in the high 70's during the afternoons, and then dips to the 40's at night. Perfect, in my opinion!


My friend Jennifer called me yesterday afternoon to let me know that Lowe's had marked some of their flowers down. The children and I made a trip to town to check out the sale. We came home with a small variety to add to our garden. Each child likes something different; I always give in to their requests. Mac likes yellow snapdragons. Ever since he was a wee boy, he called them "scrambled egg flowers". Autumn loves zinnias, and we buy packages of seeds for her to plant. Collin adores petunias. He just loves the way that they "suck up your nose" when you smell them. Abigail likes pansies. I tried to tell her that they might fade quickly in the heat, but that we would try to find a shaded spot for them.


When we arrived home last evening, everyone was anxious to get planting. Collin worked on the petunias, arranging them in arced, colored rows like a rainbow. The girls planted geraniums. This morning Collin, Abigail, and I weeded our biggest flower bed, and planted. It was a good morning, Glory!

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. Isaiah 40:8

A Quiet Place

Grandma spends most of her time in her room, sitting in a chair. She bought a new one last year. It swivels and rocks. She didn't realize that it swiveled when she bought it. Lately, she's had some difficulty getting out of it. The arms are high, and it moves when she tries to get up.

She and I went shopping this week, and she picked out a new chair. It seems to fit her well. She gave me the old chair to use in my room. I'm excited to have a comfy place to sit in the morning while I have a quiet time of devotions and scripture reading.

I wonder, though, how much I'll get to use it. Someone else seems to have claimed it.

Magnolias

Magnolias
By Edna Ellison

I spent the week before my daughter's June wedding running last-minute trips to the caterer, florist, tuxedo shop, and the church about forty miles away. As happy as I was that Patsy was marrying a good Christian young man, I felt laden with responsibilities as I watched my budget dwindle. So many details, so many bills, and so little time. My son Jack was away at college, but he said he would be there to walk his younger sister down the aisle, taking the place of his dad who had died a few years before. He teased Patsy, saying he'd wanted to give her away since she was about three years old!

To save money, I gathered blossoms from several friends who had large magnolia trees. Their luscious, creamy-white blooms and slick green leaves would make beautiful arrangements against the rich dark wood inside the church. After the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, we banked the podium area and choir loft with magnolias. As we left just before midnight, I felt tired but satisfied this would be the best wedding any bride had ever had! The music, the ceremony, the reception - and especially the flowers - would be remembered for years.

The big day arrived - the busiest day of my life - and while her bridesmaids helped Patsy to dress, her fiancé, Tim, walked with me to the sanctuary to do a final check. When we opened the door and felt a rush of hot air, I almost fainted; and then I saw them - all the beautiful white flowers were black. Funeral black!!! An electrical storm during the night had knocked out the air conditioning system, and on that hot summer day, the flowers had wilted and died.

I panicked, knowing I didn't have time to drive back to our hometown,
gather more flowers, and return in time for the wedding. Tim turned to me. Edna, can you get more flowers?

'I'll throw away these dead ones and put fresh flowers in these arrangements.' I mumbled, 'Sure,' as he be-bopped down the hall to put on his cuff links.

Alone in the large sanctuary, I looked up at the dark wooden beams in the arched ceiling. 'Lord,' I prayed, 'please help me. I don't know anyone in this town. Help me find someone willing to give me flowers - in a hurry!'

I scurried out praying for four things: the blessing of white magnolias, courage to find them in an unfamiliar yard, safety from any dog that may bite my leg, and a nice person who would not get out a shotgun when I asked to cut his tree to shreds.

As I left the church, I saw magnolia trees in the distance. I approached a
house ... no dog in sight. I knocked on the door and an older man answered. So far so good . . . No shotgun.

When I stated my plea the man beamed, 'I'd be happy to!'

He climbed a stepladder and cut large boughs and handed them down to me. Minutes later, as I lifted the last armload into my car trunk, I said, 'Sir, you've made the mother of a bride happy today.'

'No, Ma'am,' he said. 'You don't understand what's happening here.'

'What?' I asked.

'You see, my wife of sixty-seven years died on Monday. On Tuesday, I received friends at the funeral home, and on Wednesday . . .' He paused. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. 'On Wednesday, I buried her.' He looked away. 'On Thursday, most of my out-of-town relatives went back home, and on Friday - yesterday - my children left.'

I nodded.

'This morning,' he continued, 'I was sitting in my den crying out loud. I miss her so much. For the last sixteen years, as her health got worse, she needed me. But now nobody needs me. This morning I cried, 'Who needs an eighty-six-year-old wore-out man? Nobody! I began to cry louder, 'No body needs me! About that time, you knocked, and said, 'Sir, I need you.''

I stood with my mouth open.

He asked, 'Are you an angel? The way the light shone around your head into
my dark living room...'

I assured him I was no angel.

He smiled. 'Do you know what I was thinking when I handed you those magnolias?'

'No, I don't,' I said.

'I decided I am needed. My flowers are needed. Why, I might have a flower ministry! I could give them to everyone! Some caskets at the funeral home have no flowers. People need flowers at times like that and I have lots of them. They're all over the backyard! I can give them to hospitals, churches - all sorts of places. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to serve the Lord until the day He calls me home!'

I drove back to the church, filled with wonder. On Patsy's wedding day,
if anyone had asked me to encourage someone who was hurting, I would
have said, 'Forget it! It's my only daughter's wedding, for goodness' sake!
There is no way I can minister to anyone today.' But God found a way.
Through dead flowers.

'Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is.
The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.'

If you have missed knowing me, you have missed nothing.
If you have missed some of my emails, you may have missed a laugh.
But, if you have missed knowing my LORD and SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST,
you have missed everything in the world.

May God's blessings be upon you.

A Need to be Needed

image courtesy of Allposters

Grandma broke down and cried today. She was trying to change a light bulb and was so short of breath that she had to sit. I told her that I would be glad to help her, and she got teary. She said that it's so frustrating to want to be able to do things, and to not be able to do them. I wrapped my arms around her, and held her close. I told her that I loved her and that she was here for a reason. We are here to help her do whatever she needs.

I sat. I rubbed lotion on her feet, that I'm sure seemed like ointment on a wound. I lovingly put her stockings on her, and replaced the shoes on her feet. I served Christ by serving her.

I sat. We talked. I didn't do laundry, or make my bed, but I served, none the less. She needed me. By lunch time, she was fine. Chatting and joking, and feeling much better.

I prayed about Grandma this afternoon. What can she do? She needs something! AHA!!!!

I asked Autumn to take a large crochet hook and a ball of yarn into Grandma's room this evening. I asked her to tell Grandma that if she were willing to learn, she could make a baby blanket that could be donated to Project Linus. I thought she might resist, but she didn't! I was so happy!

She worked on a chain, and then started working into the chain. We chatted while she worked, and she seemed so happy! A purpose! Grandma has always enjoyed helping others, and she loves babies! She had to stop after while because her hands were cramping, but she seemed excited to be able to participate in something that the girls and I have been doing.

Praise the Lord for answered prayer!


1 Timothy 5:3-8

• 3.
• Honor widows who are truly widows.

• 4.
• But if a widow has children or grandchildren, let them first learn to show godliness to their own household and to make some return to their parents, for this is pleasing in the sight of God.

• 5.
• She who is truly a widow, left all alone, has set her hope on God and continues in supplications and prayers night and day,

• 6.
• but she who is self-indulgent is dead even while she lives.

• 7.
• Command these things as well, so that they may be without reproach.

• 8.
• But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.
  

Helping Grandma

I've been absent from blogging for several days, because my days have been busy here.

I've spent the past several days helping Grandma prepare her room for winter. She loves to change her bedding, curtains, shower curtains, and rugs for the seasons.

Thursday, I stripped the bed clear down to the dust ruffle. I washed the dust ruffle, mattress pad, sheets, blanket, and her summer coverlet. I reached up in her closet and took down a different dust ruffle, heavy comforter, two winter blankets, accessory pillows and shams. I got the bed arranged so that she was pleased. I also took down the summer shower curtain and washed it.

Friday, I took down the curtains, and washed them and the window. I then hung the curtains that she likes for the winter. Then I did the bathroom rugs. She's all set!

I recently took Grandma to the dermatologist. Her legs swell terribly. She sits most of the time, causing poor circulation. The dermatologist suggested that the rash on her legs was being caused by the swelling, and suggested that she start to wear support hose. Grandma argued, saying that she wouldn't be able to tolerate them, and the dermatologist argued back that she was going to have more problems if she didn't heed his advice. After we left, I talked to her and explained that while the stockings might be uncomfortable at first, she would get used to them, and she would start to see positive results. She ordered stockings.

The stockings arrived, but Grandma wanted to wait to wear them until she got to the podiatrist. We went a few days later. Have you ever worn support stockings? Do you know how un-elastic they are? How hard they are to put on? Now imagine trying to put them on someone else! Oh dear.

The first day, I don't know who had it worse, Grandma or me. Grandma is 83, and I know that she aches, and I try to be gentle, but truly, these things are very difficult to manage. I really have to push to get these up to her knee, and with each nudge, she would moan. I feel bad because I know that it's uncomfortable, but the slower I go, the longer the pain lasts. It's really a lose/lose situation. The good news is that they are helping to keep the swelling in her legs down. I notice a very big difference. The bad news is that we have to go through this EVERY day.

So, that's what's been happening around here. What have you been up to?