miracle{s} in the making...

miracle:  1. a wonder; marvel  2. such an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God

people have often, and with all sincerity, said they are praying God blesses us-pjm with a miracle.  that God will heal-restore pjm & his brokenness. my heart cringes when i hear this. if i had a little "selfie" video, when you played it back frame by frame you would see my face flinch as if sucker punched by those seemingly kind words.  when that phrase is spoken, i want to emit a clamorous scream that begins deep in my lungs and spews out my throat like a volcanic eruption. the verbal magma scorching not just their ear drums but my very own so i never have to them again.  please listen: yes, i believe in God & his grace & his strength & his ability to heal brokenness.  without Him, i would be lost in the middle of dementia but what i don't believe is that pjm will be healed here on earth for all of us to witness.  why?  well, because i have googled it 606 times and never once has my search revealed a single soul who had dementia & then recovered & returned back to pre-demented normal.  in fact, if pjm showed up at our front door, healthy & ready to take his white Ford F150 to job sites each morning, i predict i would mentally snap & hurt one or both of us.  that would be a very sick & cruel act to pull on our family that has been grieving the loss of him. my God is not sick nor cruel-not ever.

but i do marvel & wonder {and dig deep for miracles} in spite of dementia.  there are BIG miracles i see like sweet brown eyes & the honesty & ease with which he handles daddy's sick.  it is a marvel he was placed in our arms almost 11 years ago-everyone said we were crazy to start parenting all over again & what life changers we were for that few week old brown baby boy.  but in fact, he's my life saver.  giving me purpose to my days & forcing me to find balance on the teeter-totter of our lives.  or that family facing breast cancer & she is bold & bald & beautiful and her precious husband honors her & his marriage by shaving his head.  he is bold, bald & beautiful too.  i see them at school, holding hands with joy-filled smiles. i walk away wanting to hug myself for getting to stand in the middle of their broken but faithful lives...that's wonder-filled. that's a miracle.

and there are the little miracles like the territorial hummingbirds dashing between feeders in the backyard. neighbors sharing a glass of sangria over the fence on a warm summer night. a kind soul at starbucks paying it forward for my vanilla latte.  a couple interrupting their evening stroll to assist in fixing our bike tire. calvin, our heathen dog, ceasing the constant biting of his butt which finally allows the fur to grow back. my "regular" parking spot sitting vacant each afternoon when fetching sweet brown eyes from school.  those, too, are moments of grace that i have learned to cherish...teensy miracles waiting for me to embrace.

and maybe our family is sitting smack in the middle of "the" miracle.  maybe someone is watching-listening-wondering how we press on while losing our patriarch.  maybe, just maybe, the suffering & affliction have a bigger purpose that reaches beyond the boundaries of our family.  accepting pjm is dying {in fact, we all are dying-his "the end" is just a tad more obvious than yours or mine} is freeing.  i don't have to pretend everything is okay.  i can openly say my husband's brain is a scrambly mess forgetting to tell his body how to function.  and if one bystander is encouraged-inspired-influenced to turn toward God, then pjm & our family are honored to have unearthed the miracle.

dear broken.
you were never invited into our home.  i am sure the UPS man delivered you to the wrong address.
i know the bible is full of stories of broken.  the ultimate one being Christ hanging on that cross.
but you see, those were just still stories in my head until you parked your stubborn ass in the middle our lives.
i have prayed-cried-begged-screamed for you to leave,
but you are here to stay.
you have stolen a husband, a daddy, a son, a brother, a friend & one hell of a business man.
i think i am finally learning your purpose...you can lead to growth & beauty.
others can learn & see Christ in our lives in spite of your bold presence.
and that's the miracle.
signed-
me {who was damm sure she could fix anything}

back to my snarky self

i breathed a big sign of relief when my alarm woke me at 5:50 & there sat the icon...it read "monday" and below that was a joyfull & bold "12" .  it marked the end of 30 days.  i made a promise to abstain from snark for a month.  i did it.  sort of.  except for the text messages i sent one sunday regarding overzealous soccer parents or the photo i snapped & forwarded, with a snarky caption, regarding a certain fashion decision a woman {older than me!} decided to wear in public.  i, on the other hand, couldn't fathom entering that store that rhymes with "bedricks of ballywood" and purchasing said item and then wearing it not in the privacy of my bedroom but to the freaking mall that was bursting at the seams with back to school shoppers.  even someone's sweet brown eyes rolled over said fashion choice.  perhaps, that snide remark regarding the tourist proudly sporting his stripped micro-speedo poolside fell somewhere outside the boundaries as well.

my "fast" from the witty sarcasm i so love to innocently dish out to amuse friends & family {& myself} proved challenging.  somedays i wondered what the heck i would have to talk about...to share.  how stinking shallow of me, right?  oh perhaps not.  while on snark-battical, i realized i missed the laughter-both mine & theirs. it not only creates a bond but is also softens the edges of my dementia filled world.  you see, there is so much i have to manage for pjm-like things you would never think of until you actually starring down the barrel of demented.  yes, he is not living at home & that makes daily life easier & home has returned to its predictable calm, but there are cumbersome conversations with staff & caregivers & doctors. organizing & keeping track of his personal items & grooming {have you ever thought of taking an adult who can't converse or sit still to get a haircut...in public!} my visits are constant reminders we are losing a battle & the spoils of the war are the love of my life.

and that is where the humor {albeit snarky} allows me to backup & find laughter, even joy, in my demented grind.  i consciously decided numerous times in a single day to either laugh in this season of sad {and yes, it is done with sarcasm quite often} or i can allow the burden of dementia to press all of the joy of life out of me.

dear snark,

i missed you while you were on your little vacay.

glad we are back & so are some friends of mine.

perhaps one of the best things is you are like riding a bike

muscle memory...once the 30 days was over,

my brain kicked right back into that old snarky groove.

i know sometimes you are bitchy-pointed-peircing

but you help me cope with the loss-hurt-empty

& that's way better than hiding my sorrow-filled ass in bed all day!

yes, dementia will take down pjm, but i will be dammed if it will crush me in the process.

love-

smart ass me

p.s.  i am now in the middle of 30 days of prayer 

{yeah, and y'all are probably thinking i best start with a long prayer for my sarcastic self}