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}

we're {not} so fine.

this was my {not} so fine view from wednesday thru friday afternoon.  breaks home to sleep & love on my children, but most of my waking moments were watching pjm breathe-in, out, in, out- after a {not} so fine full-blown, over the top seizure on wednesday morning.  somehow, God had it all timed perfectly.  i was actually with pjm when it took place which is bizarre as i never visit on wednesdays-sweet brown eyes had modified days during the school year so i have made a {not} so fine habit of avoiding the wednesday "visit" & it was easy to rollover this into summer.  well, this command seizing performance by pjm was certainly my most frightening life experience-especially because he is unable to communicate.   i held his hand while the staff tended to him until 911 arrived.  those vows of "sickness & health" resonated in my ears between his labored breaths. 

like every other facet of this {not} so fine demented disease, there was no medical explanation as to why the seizure took place.  as i drove back to the hospital friday, i was mentally sparing with God about the why & the unfair & the pure exhaustion of the past few days.  i, of course, did all of the yelling & God did all of the listening like perhaps the vast majority of our verbal altercations.  i was so pissed off pjm faced yet another challenge with no medical explanation other than this stupid disease itself.  i wanted to scream "uncle" at God claiming defeat to this wicked & twisted disease that has pjm in a half nelson.

saturday morning, i lay home in bed thankful pjm is back at his "home away from  home".  i pick up my bible out of obligation...guilt, in fact, because in the middle of this crisis i defer to reading a girlie novel & decorating magazines.  often, the bible is arduous for me like an archeologist, painstakingly brushing the dust off an ancient artifact. i awkwardly read the verses written centuries ago & have no idea how they apply to middle aged me sitting comforatbly atop of my mattress miles away from jerusalem.  i am currently reading the book of matthew & there is a story about some dissatisfied workers in a vineyard-we happen to have vineyards in our town & i love wine so there is more connection to this story than most.  a farmer goes to town about 9:00 am to find a day laborer to perform some task in his vineyard.  the worker agrees to the daily wage & begins his work.  said farmer continues going back & forth to town hiring several more laborers throughout the day.  at days end, he pays all of the workers the same exact amount regardless of the number of hours they actually worked.  of course the first guys are enraged because they have worked far more hours but still only receive a dollar.  sucks for the day laborers that busted their asses all day for the same wage but, what the hell does this have to do with me & pjm & a grand mal seizure?

God never promised me a life free of challenge.  God never promised troubling circumstances would be passed out evenly like playing cards in a game of old maid.  God never promised to answer my whys & whens while i screamed at him for answers.

dear God.
sorry for the {not} so fine temper tantrum on friday.
you promised to always provide & you have-even in the middle of demented.
you promised to give strength, even when i feel weaker than a daisy
 grasping dearly to its petals in a hurricane.
you promise a peace that passes all understanding & while i still wrestle with this,
i know there is eternal life for pjm-me-our children which grants me calm.
thanks for your impeccable timing on wednesday-
did you laugh when i jumped up & asked if pjm was having a stroke?
i know, lame {not} so fine question.
love-
pissed off {not} so fine day laborer

and a side note:
a lullaby plays throughout the hospital whenever a baby is born.
it's a gentle reminder that new life & hope are happening 
so very close to me during this {not} so fine sickness.

puttin' snarky on the shelf for a bit...

so five months from today i will be celebrating the big 5-0 {feels entirely impossible} but my drivers license, passport as well as a very yellowed & aged birth certificate all reflect a birthday of 12/12/1963.

in honor of that aging milestone, i have decided to attempt a handful of tasks for the next five months before celebrating the BIG 50.  today marks the beginning of month one and here is what the next 30 days holds for me.  i am placing "snarky" on the shelf.  yep, in this teeny blog world of mine some of you may not know i have this sarcastic, cutting edge to me but i do.  those snarky comments roll off my tongue much like a pad of butter runs off a freshly grilled cob of corn.

my mom taught me by word, but more importantly by example, that old adage "if you cannot say something nice, don't say anything at all".  once i fled the nest and more importantly her listening ear, i learned & refined my skill of making insightful comments that drip with a coating of bitchy.  kind of like a beer-battered onion ring...that outside crusty jacket that has been bathed in oil sapping every ounce of nutritional value the slender ringlet of onion once contained.  my snarky words, while speaking a petite slice of truth, dip in a greasy batter of 100% bitch.

dear God.
i know those battered bites of bitch i so comfortable serve are ugly...to my very core.
why, God, do they flow so naturally from my mind & lips?
You say in the book of James that anyone who considers herself godly, yet doesn't keep a tight rein on her tongue not only deceives herself but You.
help me bite my tongue-for just 30 days-and allow Your love, grace, goodness to flow from my mouth.
sorry i have deceived you.
how have i accumulated half a century of years, and yet still have so much maturing to do?
signed-
almost 50 year old kindergartner

goldilocks...

remember that little blond, adventuresome girl who happens into the home of the three brown bears while they are out for a walk?  she enters their dwelling, testing their chairs, porridge, and beds.  each time she has to try all three and declares the first two are "too much" and "too little", but on her third attempt she finds the one that is "just right".

somedays i feel like that golden locked girl...especially on tuesdays.  as i make the 40 minute drive heading back to "the gardens", the days between visits has either past at lightening speed or a snails pace.  very seldom does it feel like the perfect amount of time has passed.  as i wander inside to find my sweet broken husband, it seems he is overly interested in seeing me {a tad too affectionate...} while other occasions, he looks through me and longs to be anywhere but at my side.  never does our time together feel "just right".  i leave and head back home so often with tears burning the back of my eyes and my throat feeling thick with grief wishing to have more years with him while concurrently longing for it all to come to an abrupt end.  driving away from him never will feel "just right".

like goldilocks, i am searching for the middle.  a path that leads to content...a "just right" of rest-peace-comfort in my heart absent of a longing for a little bit more or a teeny slice less.  in ecclesiastics 3, God speaks of a perfect time for everything:  birthing, dying, healing, killing, scattering, gathering, weeping, laughing.   the author continues on stating God makes everything beautiful in His time, but has left us in the dark to trust both His plan and timeline.

dear God.
i long for that "just right" feeling i was so accustomed to prior to "that day" almost four years ago
when life was turned on its end for our sweet family & pjm.
but You remind me "there is a season for everything, every activity under heaven"
including dementia.  and sickness.  and mourning.
and you instruct me to make the most of life in all seasons, this is Your gift to me.

thanks for being my "just right" in the middle of earning my pro wrestling status in this battle of too much and too little.

signed,
goldilocks

fire alarms & hearing tests

so while i was recently visiting pjm, the fire alarms were being tested.  the noise was an obnoxious "ERRR-ERRR-ERRT" accompanied by some flashing ceiling lights.  pjm was oblivious to the commotion while other residents sought the front door {which is on a delay so they cannot leave unaccompanied}.  a pack of residents & caregivers congregated outside just beyond the front door in hopes of escaping the annoyance.  another gentleman paced the lobby floor like a tiger in too small a cage.  his hands clenched over his ears while donning a miserable grimace.  i remained seated as the staff made it clear it was just a test-not an emergency.  it was somewhat amusing to see how the residents try to process this annoying stimulation within their different stages of dementia.

here is the dialogue i had with a sweet elderly resident:

her:  what is all of that noise for?  and those lights?

me:  oh, they are testing the fire alarms.

her:  testing?  they are testing?

me:  yep, just to make sure everything is working fine-to keep all of you safe.

her:  well tell them they can stop now.

me:  stop the noise?  i think the testing might take a bit longer.

her:  tell them to stop.  my hearing is working just fine.  tell them they can stop testing my hearing-i can hear that noise.

me: .... {smile-thanks for the giggle}  excuse me, miss elderly resident says her hearing is working just fine and you can stop the noise now {i say this to the empty space between her & me}

her:  thanks...that helps {the lights and alarms are still blaring so i am unclear how i was of assistance-perhaps it is just comforting to be heard even if the desired solution didn't come as quick as desired}

this is how some tuesday go...a little laughter that eats away some of that overwhelming sphere of sadness i so often feel on visiting day.

honoring dad...

dear children of ours-
i want to say a million things to you, and yet know none of them will fill that gap left in your lives.  it is so painful with your dad still so physically capable, yet stripped of the essence of what made him your dad.  i so want to wrap my arms around you and give wisdom of understanding while you grieve what has been lost, but i have no clue what it feels like to lose the man that allowed you to scream as babies "because it was your only form of exercise"; shared his passion for a "gwink" & the art behind the it; told you, with all sincerity after your first breakup {and subsequent ones}, that he/she just lost out on the best person ever; and left you, anxious & distressed, on the step of your freshman dorm knowing you could handle the university ahead of you.

as we awkwardly celebrate dad's on sunday, i want to call to mind those freshman drop-offs.  he loved taking you children to college with your entire life packed upon the four wheels of our suburban.  some of the joy was the drive itself.  that man loved to drive absolutely anywhere.  it gave him time to converse with you, divvying out final words of wisdom based on both his successes and failures.  once you pulled up to that said university, he would unload his own handcart & speedily place all your boxes in what you would call home for the next nine months.  once his task was done, he would issue a warm hug & peck on the cheek and reassure you that you were capable.  he would then turn and load himself {and that trusty handcart} in the suburban & drive off, with complete confidence in you.  left standing on the doorstep of your new life,  you quickly found your roots and a balance to living without him close by. he was always a phone call away with astute words of wisdom, an "i love you", and quiet confidence would hang in the air leaving you knowing he expected nothing short of success.

july 2008...a man & his children.

i realize now we as a family have been dropped off at the freshman dorm of lives.  dad packed lessons, love, and laughs into our hearts.  his legacy is what continues to bind us as a family & there is that sweet brown eyed brother who needs to experience dad; his wisdom, pranks and "peterisms" through each of us.  while he isn't a phone call away, his lessons are tucked orderly in our minds and we simply need to recall both the logic & integrity he used when tackling a challenge.  his "love yous" must live in our hearts & that confidence he expected will press us to strive in the challenges we face as a family and individually.  we must lean in on one another in the middle of this sick uncertainty while allowing each other to fumble through all the grief.

so on sunday, as we {and you} celebrate the day dedicated to dads, remember:
-walk after dinner.  it's way better than TV & makes for family time.
-always wear sunscreen.  the higher the SPF the better.
-date your spouse regularly.  it lets your kids know marriage is first & they come second.
-give back...to God, community, friends, strangers.
-invest in family...both immediate & extended.  one day you will need to lean in on them like we are learning in this season.

and have, his absolute favorite, a tanqueray-tonic with a squeeze of lime in honor of him!

cheers&love&hugs&tears.
mom.stepmom.chris