Well-loved Faces

If God has a purpose for every one of His creations, what is His purpose for me? Sometimes I wonder. God has definitely opened up a whole new chapter of my life forcing me out of my old routine and into a new, dealing with the day-to-day worries associated with my parents’ recent move into assisted living. It consumes me. My parents are always on my mind, and when I sleep I often dream of them. It’s hard to get away. But maybe that’s because God doesn’t want me to get away. He knows how much time my parents have left on this earth; He knows what’s coming. And He knows how much I will miss them when they’re gone. So maybe, just maybe, He’s pushing me to spend as much time with them as I can – while I can.

God knows my heart. He knows I can’t say no to the responsibility. Everybody tells me to visit less frequently. My husband, my friends, even the facility staff wonders why I feel the need to stop by nearly every day. But none of them knows what my parents have done for me my entire life. My parents have given me unconditional love since the second I was born, sacrificing, working hard, to form the kind of environment where love flourishes in abundance.

And now, there they are in a new, confusing environment. No matter how attractive I try to make their surroundings, when they wake up each day they’re not waking up at “the farm,” the home they’ve loved for 38 years – the home they found one day in 1972. I was in the eighth grade and I hated the place! I didn’t want to leave the only home I’d ever known. I had no vision; my parents had immense foresight and the energy to make their dream a reality. Remodeling took one solid year, but once it was complete and we moved in, it was positively a lovely place to live. The farm was home.

As much as I know my parents are where they need to be, they are not “home.” In times to come, perhaps they will begin to feel at home in their two connected rooms, but until then they need family around them whenever possible. If they are no longer able to see well-loved treasures, they need to see well-loved faces. And so, they will see mine as often as possible no matter what. My purpose is clear.

Trust - A Two-way Street

I wonder if moms fully comprehend the immense power they hold in their hands. Once a child is born a mother lives for her child. Her reason to be is forever altered – tipped toward the best interest of the child. No decision is made without considering the welfare of that child. I really can’t remember what my priorities were during the brief B.C. (before children) years. I wanted to get through school, marry and have kids. I guess that was about it back then.

And BOOM…five children in six years, the death of one, and life with four remaining boys followed.

I was never a casual mom. I took the responsibility quite seriously. My boys were my world. And they knew it; they felt it. They were my gift from God, and I treated them accordingly, perhaps because I knew they were only on loan – mine for a short while. God could reclaim what was His; He’d done it once.

We five were like one entity for many years. My husband orbited at work providing the necessities of life, but my boys were mine. A great pleasure and an awesome responsibility. I never asked why God took one child back so soon; I never quite understood what I’d ever done to deserve the other four.

Looking into my boys’ eyes I saw love and trust shining back at me. My sons knew that they could count on me no matter what throughout all phases of their lives. They shared their joy, and came to me in times of trouble. And I thought that was about the best feeling in the world. Until today.

This afternoon one of my brothers and I attended a family meeting to chart the progress which my dad has made since entering rehabilitation after a debilitating fall. My dad is a week shy of 90 years old, and very “with it,” so he, too, attended the meeting. All therapists praised his efforts and detailed his on-going goals to regain the life he had pre-fall. Back and forth we listened and talked for nearly an hour. The goal uppermost in my dad’s mind is to join my mom, his wife of 69 years, in assisted living. This is why he works so hard at therapy. Toward the end of our discussion the therapists asked my dad what he thought would be best. Without hesitation, in a strong clear voice Pop said, “I trust my son and daughter completely to decide what is best for me.”

A definite Kodak moment.

My mind has not completely wrapped itself around the immensity of trust proclaimed in that one short sentence. It’s one thing when day-by-day we gain the trust of our own children. They’re little. Babies are born as trusting beings counting on their parents to care for them. So if we moms do it right, we do gain our children’s trust. But to have the man who gave life to his children put his life back into his children’s hands is the greatest gift he could ever give us. As with my boys, I can’t seem to figure out what I ever did to deserve such a father. Pop is my gift from God, and I will treat him accordingly because I know he is on loan – mine for a short while.