learning to love.....

My mother taught me everything beginning with how to love. She taught me that by loving me.














She has loved me for 56 years. She worked on my behalf, for my children and now for my first grandchild - her 10th great-grandchild. Her love for her 25 offspring is boundless. Even in her latter years, when she is tired and weakening, she works on our behalf - because she loves us.
















And we love her back.

hands

A woman does so many things with her hands.
A mother does a few more: caresses her husband, cares for her children, cooks, cleans, cultivates, comforts, creates. (I promise, I didn't try to alliterate.)
My mother has "the Johnson hands". So do I. So does Lydia.
There are times when we have wished for longer fingers - octaves seem bigger to us; rings look nicer on long fingers. But God gave us "Johnson hands" and I think we are all at peace with that now. Perhaps even proud.
So when I posted a crumby picture of my mother kneading bread, my friend, Sarah, who hasn't taken a crumby picture in - well - forever, asked to do a similar photo shoot.

My mother's hands have aged. They have spots and wrinkles. They aren't as strong as they used to be. But during her visit here, I've seen her hands working to lighten my load, make a baby blanket, cook and chop and knead. Her hands still do what they have always done - extend love in various creative ways.

Our "Johnson hands" work as well as all other hands of grander proportion and physical beauty. The real beauty is in what our hands do. And these are precious, beautiful hands.

end of the year

It is the end of the year and I am feeling a bit reflective.
I recently returned home, having been in Chicago for a few days; this time to finish helping move Mom into assisted living.
I sense she is rather reflective these days, thinking about all the changes she has experienced in the past several years. She and Dad sold their house and bought a condo which they loved. Within a few years, they sold that and moved to Covenant Village, the graduated care facility in Northbrook where they now live. Dad moved to the secured Alzheimer's unit in March; we just moved Mom to assisted living December 2. The loss of independence has caused her to feel unsettled, displaced, confused, uncertain. One can hardly blame her! She thinks back to days not long ago when she could roll over to see Dad there next to her in bed; they companionably watched TV together at night; ate breakfast together. Now they live those intimate moments alone. And she thinks about it.
So do I.

What I think about is all the wonderful years they have loved each other. I am particularly aware of it when I visit and see Dad struggle to stand when Mom slowly walks down the hall toward him. She arrives to greet him and he wraps her in a hug and beams at her, tears occassionally coming to his eyes. He tells her he loves her. He tells her how beautiful she is.
He usually knows who she is but there are times when he confuses her with his mother or his beloved first wife who died long years ago. But he knows one thing for sure; he loves this woman mightily.
When I see this scene, I reflect on how their love is alive at a mitochondrial level. No function or malfunction of his mind has touched his love for her.
As for Mom? She rarely misses a moment to sit with him. Each day, all day, she is there with him. She doesn't always understand him when he tries to talk. His eyes are not always open. He has no news to share with her, no idea to add to the conversation. But she loves him as he loves her. Just being together is enough now.

So I reflect on these things at the end of this year of great change. I think about how I have been privileged to see that love when it was much younger and exuberant. I think about how I have been "programmed" to want their kind of love. I think about how blessed I am to get glimpses of a deep, abiding, secure, faithful, mature love near the end of its days.
And I am thankful.

lost right in front of us - but oh! so found

Dad's Alzheimers is overtaking what is really precious now.
His little blondie, Gracie, seems to be lost to him.
"Where did you grow up?" he asked her the other day.

"Dad, I'm your blondie, Gracie. I grew up in your house with you. I'm your daughter."
"No one told me that!"
He's so lost in another world, yet there sits that once wonderfully active, strong and handsome body.
He's pretty much gone.
Why does God leave him here?
What is left to us?
Whenever Gracie reads Scripture in the garden or gets out the old church hymnal to sing or asks Dad to pray, Dad is unnervingly in the moment. He is coherent, accurate, quotes Scripture, full of praise, aware of family names and needs.
Why does God leave him here with us?

So that we can see God in all His glory in this disease-ravaged, imperfect and broken vessel we still lovingly call "Dad".
A few weeks ago - maybe even as recently as this morning, to be honest - I would have said that Dad wouldn't want to live like this - in a nursing home, unable to go where he wants to go, be home with his dear wife of 56 years, drive his car, watch TV in his own family room, feed the birds, take a walk. But he is living how he has always lived - giving praise to His dear Savior.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:16-19

in sight

Insight and in sight.
Understanding is seeing....
Hmm....
In the midst of the care and concern in the family, there were some light moments, as well. Here are a few.... in sight.
One is dedicated to Ruthie and several invoke Uncle Scott!!
Click the forward button - these will play!!
crazy Gracie keeps me laughing



feats of strength featuring the cousins Mel and Rach.


Doctor Linnea and Grocer Linnea with a shout out to Uncle Scott


More singing - I didn't say it was good but we enjoyed it!

a thread

Dad just came through sugery. He is weak and in serious condition. Lee arrived this morning from Vermont and is with Mom.
I was just there last week - haven't even been back a week. He was in the hospital exactly a week ago.
Gracie just arrived at a beach condo in S. Carolina for a much needed and long overdue vacation with her family.
Kathy is in Africa but we are emailing just now. Strange that the one to whom I am connected right now is on the other side of the world. We met at the Throne just a while ago.

Dear God.... ...Tho' much is taken, much abides;
And tho' we are not now that strength
Which in old days moved earth and heaven,
That which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate,
But strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Ulysses, Tennyson

I love you Dad and Mom. They are yours, dear Lord.