Category Archives: Family

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Dementia and Birthdays, Disengagement and Hope

I have not posted lately. I haven’t felt like writing. I’ve felt a bit more like playing slither.io and Candy Crush. Just not engaging completely. We all have our seasons, right? We all have our moments where we sit on the porch and read through books while sipping our coffee, and we all have our seasons of just making it through.

 

This season started with a coffee mug.

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I walked through the Starbucks in a bookstore and it caught my eye. Immediately I was reminded of my mom sipping her coffee, wearing a bathrobe and slippers and making her list of things to do that day. Mom was a woman of lists and coffee. Strong, dark and extremely hot.

 

I bought the mug. It was like physically holding  on to a memory. A tangible reminder of the strength of presence this woman held.

 

Then the disengaging happened a bit. Because she is not that woman any longer. Her words no longer form sentences, her eyes are not piercing or twinkling with laughter. Her voice is not strong, sometimes filling with song. And that is terribly difficult to settle with: we have her, and yet we do not.

 

And I miss her. So there are seasons of disengaging with some of reality so that all of my reality does not suffer. The season of truly mourning the loss of my mother has not come in full force. Instead it is this long-distance endurance mourning as we watch her slowly leave us in Dementia. A mourning in moments that does not leave any healing yet.

 

There is more around me, though, than coffee mugs which hold memories.

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That is my White Rabbit about to jump through the rabbit hole. He and his friends brought us a fantastic performance, filling us with laughter and pride. Such talented kids. Such good friends.

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This brings back my engagement. Seeing these kids delighting in their talents and enjoying their moment. Fully engaged as I see his enthusiasm and joy overflow in the company of his friends. He shines when he is around people, his compassion and genuine love of people so prominent.

 

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This is a ten year old boy, sporting his “Player of the Year” hoodie. I have in the past posted birthday posts on each child’s birthday. That didn’t happen in this season of disengagement. But this boy…he celebrated with friends and ate cake and laughed heartily. Inching closer to being more man than boy, he shines with hope and enthusiasm.

A few days ago he tried out for a select team. It was 85+ degrees of Tennessee humidity, complete with mosquitos and an ant covered soccer field. The boy just hadn’t seen these temperatures or this level of activity since last summer. Wind sprints and laps. He couldn’t catch his breath and the tears were on the brink. I sent him back in.

“Finish as well as you can and you will be proud of yourself. Just don’t quit.”

He finished. He finished well and was a sweaty mess of tiredness, with just a touch more confidence. Bringing my engagement more focus as I feel the pride in seeing who he is becoming.

 

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This is a fifteen year old man-child. I am somewhat staggered that he is a year away from driving on his own, three years away from leaving for college. A blink of an eye.

We are celebrating him tonight and that means meat. Lots of meat.

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He asked for Philly Steak sandwiches, and I realize these probably bear little resemblance to those from Philadelphia. These are my Mom’s take on the sandwich, and I remember them being a rare treat. Strips of steak seared in butter with Worcestershire sauce with onions, on toasted bread with Philadelphia cream cheese. I really don’t care if they are authentic…they are authentically my Mom’s. And the boy loves them.

 

He is in that strange between land of childhood and manhood. He is young enough to laugh at utter silliness, young enough and wise enough to admit his vulnerabilities. He is old enough to feel the weight of responsibilities and the future. He is young enough to still love Tres Leche cake for his birthday.

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He is becoming his own. And I am humbled and thankful for the man who glimpses at us through the laughter and the silliness, through the shyness and uncertainty. Glimpses of confidence and easy humor. Glimpses of strength and wisdom. Pulling me back in to engagement.

 

I’m going to go head out to the porch to read. I’ve had my moment of feeling the impact of Mom’s Dementia. We have to take these moments…to allow ourselves the space to reel a little and then for the moments of hope and encouragement and life to pull us back.  The weight of our sorrow can sometimes blind us. We need to allow space for sorrow, but not allow it dominion. These moments of White Rabbits and soccer hoodies, of boys becoming men (and I haven’t forgotten the little Princess…her day is coming and I’ll be back to writing blog posts for her), these bring us back to life.

“ . . some moment happens in your life that you say yes right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. laughing with somebody till the tears run down your cheeks. waking up to the first snow. being in bed with somebody you love… whether you thank God for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open up your whole life. If you turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to business as usual, it may lose you the ball game. if you throw your arms around such a moment and hug it like crazy, it may save your soul.” – Buechner

 

 

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Don’t Blink.

The season is done. We have travelled together from Nashville to Chicago, Notre Dame University, and Atlanta. We have washed piles of sweaty clothes and gear. Cheered until we were hoarse and poured over video of the games.

 

Hockey season is long. We start to feel it a little by the fifth month in, and yet after the last game we are always sorry the season is done. This year was one of our best, even though we didn’t win every game. Even though it was tough. Especially this last weekend.

 

We played three teams a division above us, and they beat us three games in a row. Then Sunday morning at the consolation game, it came together and we walked away from the last game of the season with a win.

 

What is the point of all of this? What is the point of the cheering and the raised blood pressure as we watch these kids skate like mad, take and give some major hits, shoot every chance they get and make some amazing saves? At the end of the day, what is the point beyond some bragging rights?

 

Oh, there are so many points. Especially as a homeschool family, there is so much value in sports, or arts, or drama, or music. We get to sit in the stands and watch our kids go out and give their all for something they love. Whatever that something is. For us, right now, it is hockey for the eldest. We get to watch as he takes instruction from someone else, as he learns things we cannot teach him. We get to watch as he bonds with a team and recognizes the responsibilities of being part of something beyond just himself.

 

We get to cheer him on.

We get to sit and watch our kids do something they love, and we get to stop the busyness of life and just watch. Just focus and watch our kids. Look at them and realize how incredibly wonderful it is to be a parent. The kids are working and sweating and learning lessons like responsibility and discipline and perseverance. The coach is taking over the moment for us and teaching and guiding.

 

We get to just watch. There are not enough moments where we get to do this. Our kids notice. It is important.

 

Even when they are losing.

We lost a lot this weekend. Three of the four games. And here is a second point to the worth of these activities. We need to learn how to lose and not have the world fall apart. We need to learn how to lose and get back up the next morning and try again. Our kids need to learn this. Three times the boys showed up, played hard…and lost. Then Sunday morning they showed up…and won.

 

I know. It’s just a game. Just a play. Just an art piece. Just a performance.

 

Nah. It’s life. I’m thankful for coaches who guide our kids, who make them work hard and yell at them when they are slacking or encourage them when they are trying. I’m thankful for groups of parents who come together and cheer and encourage and delight in our kids.

 

That’s what it comes down to. Zach isn’t going to make a career of hockey. This is a moment. We’ll blink and these days will be over.

 

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Five Words I Love To Hear: Mom! Please, Don’t Read Anymore!

 

Each night for the last couple months I have been met by this exclamation from my youngest boy.

 

The lights are dimmed, he is in his bed and the Littlest Princess (I’m still settling on their nicknames for this blog) is in some degree of resting. Prayers are done and we have read one chapter out loud from our latest book.

 

We have been taking our time, savoring George MacDonald’s books. About Princesses. Yes, reading my boy books about princesses.

 

But these are George MacDonald books about princesses.

 

 

The Princess and the Goblin.

The Princess and Curdie.

 

The Lost Princess (or The Wise Woman: A Parable)

 

Books which greet us with comments like these:

“It was foolish indeed – thus to run farther and farther from all who could help her, as if she had been seeking a fit spot for the goblin creature to eat her in at his leisure; but that is the way fear serves us: it always sides with the thing we are afraid of.”

 

“There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in the other a continuous resurrection.”

 

“What honest boy would pride himself on not picking pockets ? A thief who was trying to reform would. To be conceited of doing one’s duty is then a sign of how little one does it, and how little one sees what a contemptible thing it is not to do it. Could any but a low creature be conceited of not being contemptible? Until our duty becomes to us common as breathing, we are poor creatures.”

 

These are books which carry weight, and I have been happy to read slowly. The other night, though, I thought we might read two or three chapters so we could finish the book that night. The Youngest Boy would have none of that.

 

I get carried away reading books. Looking up I will find that I have read for two hours when I only meant to take a few minutes to read. This boy, though…he has restraint.

 

Stop reading.

 

Savor what we have.

 

He wanted me to stop so the book would last longer, so we would have more nights to think about Rosamond or Curdie or all the other cast of characters. He asked last night if there were any more after this…I told him there is this little one called At The Back of the North Wind.

 

There will be plenty of time to be swept away by stories and read for hours….there is something priceless about a 9 year old being aware that we need to savor the moment. He knows there will come a time when we have read all the MacDonald books, and he wants to hold that off as long as possible.

 

There is wonder, and sometimes we just glance and acknowledge what should make us stop in our tracks. The absolute-out-of-control laughter of children. Sunsets which turn the sky to fire and make our hearts beat faster. The smell of honeysuckle.

 

The reality of a God who creates all these things, and who cares for all of us. And for me. And for you.

 

Wonder. On a Monday it may feel far away….but think about the last time you took something in just a piece at a time to make it last. Today, take in just a piece…

 

Peace.

 

Grace.

 

Mercy.

 

Love.

 

Forgiveness.

 
Resurrection.

 

Creativity.

 

Don’t rush. Show the restraint of a 9 year old.

 

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The Necessity of Play

Yesterday as I was walking I listened to a TED radio hour about play. Now, I was outside and I was moving, but I wasn’t exactly playing.

 

I was working to get my body in better shape…so that I can play more. With my kids. Because sometimes they need encouragement to play.

 

We all need that encouragement, and yet after listening to the speakers, I realized the importance of play. Or I remembered.  Play should be a priority.

 

We are born stamped with the image of a Creative and playful God. Yes, we face a myriad of struggles in this life, and there are so many things to think deeply about and to weep over. There are enormous, staggering issues that surround us. There are also the mundane duties and necessities of life, which demand our attention.

 

Still, there is this wiring in us that looks for and loves play.

 

There are waterfalls and rainbows and amazing sunsets and wonder all around us. There are signs everywhere of a Creator at play.

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The colors purple and pink.

 

The platypus.

Laughter. Deep, releasing and spontaneous laughter. The kind where you can’t contain yourself.

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And when we play we relate in such a different way. With freedom and with joy. Imagination.

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“That’s a sure way to tell about somebody–the way they play, or don’t play, make-believe.” Madeleine L’Engle

 

Part of the TED talk was with a Dr. Steve Brown who had researched the role of play in murderers. They didn’t play. They didn’t engage in spontaneous play as children. And they didn’t learn empathy. They didn’t learn the necessities of life that come through play. That is fairly staggering.

 

 

The true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground. G.K. Chesterton

 

We have to have a release in the midst of the struggle. We have to sometimes be reminded to play.

 

Pinterest and my Facebook feed are full of ideas to spark play in our children this summer. There is a tinge of sadness that we have to sometimes manufacture play because our children need the encouragement. Maybe we need to incorporate more play in our lives so it becomes more engrained…then it can be more spontaneous. Maybe we, I, need to not say no when the children want to play…we need to encourage it and enlarge that desire.

 

 

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” G. K. Chesterton

It’s summertime. Let’s play. Let’s let down our guard a bit and get silly and get wet in the sprinklers and run around with the kids. Let’s laugh until we pee. Then laugh some more.

Let us allow that joy to revive us this summer.

Let’s play, and show our kids we still know how to be alive. Go throw a water balloon at someone, or color a picture, or play video games with your kids.

“I do not think that the life of Heaven bears any analogy to play or dance in respect of frivolity. I do think that while we are in this ‘valley of tears,’ cursed with labour, hemmed round with necessities, tripped up with frustrations, doomed to perpetual plannings, puzzlings, and anxieties, certain qualities that must belong to the celestial condition have no chance to get through, can project no image of themselves, except in activities which, for us here and now, are frivolous.

For surely we must suppose the life of the blessed to be an end in itself, indeed The End: to be utterly spontaneous; to be the complete reconciliation of boundless freedom with order–with the most delicately adjusted, supple, intricate, and beautiful order?

How can you find any image of this in the ‘serious’ activities either of our natural or of our (present) spiritual life? Either in our precarious and heart-broken affections or in the Way which is always, in some degree, a via crucis?

No, Malcolm. It is only in our ‘hours-off,’ only in our moments of permitted festivity, that we find an analogy. Dance and game are frivolous, unimportant down here; for ‘down here’ is not their natural place. Here, they are a moment’s rest from the life we were place here to live.

But in this world everything is upside down. That which , if it could be prolonged here, would be a truancy, is likest that which in a better country is the End of ends. Joy is the serious business of Heaven.” – C.S. Lewis