Slowing Time

Time is measured by earth’s revolution around the sun.

One day is measured by earth’s revolution around its axis.

One moment is a division of one day.

These days all moments blur together

but today marks the day Mom would have made 96 revolutions around the sun.

Today is Mom’s birthday.

Only a year ago four generations gathered around her, seated in her wheelchair

Her grandnieces laid a beautiful display of pink peonies and orchids and white roses in her lap. Mom gazed at the blooms in awe and wonder.

She kept asking, are those for me?

Alzheimer’s kept her from recognizing the day, or fretting about time.

There is much she could have taught us in this time of isolation, when days stretch on.

For her mind and her heart lived only in the present moment.

No before, no after, only now.

And there was joy and wonder in every moment, as there was on her 95thbirthday last year.

Her children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews and their children circled around her to sing Happy Birthday. Her eyes lit up with joy and with a smile joined in to sing happy birthday to herself!

Each hug from her great grandchildren, each kiss on the cheek was treasured by her. As one child stepped away she would wave her hands, beckoning for more hugs and kisses.

Her words were few, but each sound, each gesture voiced one thing: Love.

There is no act to small

no single moment too sacred

no gesture not treasured

in these times when time is slowed.

That is the gift that Alzheimer’s teaches.

That is the gift that isolation teaches.

For as each moment is isolated, one by one,

and one minute blurs into the next

the simple things,

a word of greeting, a wave from across the lawn

a face time call,

bring a smile.

These single treasures bring us joy.

Today I remember the things that brought her joy.

I cut roses from the lawn and put them in a vase.

I light the candle my sister gave her one birthday.

I water the geraniums mom loved in a clay pot.

I play the Mozart sonata she would listen to next to me at the piano.

Mary, Jesus’ mother, who Mom adored,

reflected these words the best, written in the book of Luke,

these words that Mom lived

the words we should live today: His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

As time is slowed, as it did for Mom, we have a choice to treasure each small moment.

Mom is renewed now.

Her mind and body are whole.

Restored to the way it was meant to be.

Free from pain, sorrow and disease.

I am sure from heaven she prays for each of us

that we too will be restored during this time.

Be made whole in body, mind and spirit,

with God.

From heaven she sends me a reminder she is a new creation. A moment ago a swallowtail butterfly landed on this bloom, a Mexican Petunia.

It happened in a moment. There was no time to capture it in a photo. And the blossom of this flower only lasts one day.

Many moments passed by as I stared at the flower, hoping the butterfly would return.

It did not.

unveiled

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The sun was setting, and in the distance

a curtain of rain

veiled a rainbow.

A pocket of clouds lay just beyond.

A whisper of hope veiled in the clouds.

A promise that everything would be ok.

We had just come from a service where a husband and three kids the ages of my children had said goodbye to their mother.

Their mother, now with unveiled face, healed from her cancer and resting in the arms of Jesus.

Their mother, whose greatest wish conveyed throughout the service is that her children would remain steadfast in Him.

I walked along the shore with my only daughter only hours after that service, my reflections mirrored in this veil

these words from Corinthians coming to mind as I imagined what is must be like to say goodbye to my children

But we, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord are being transformed into the same image, from glory to glory just as from the Lord, the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 2:13

My friend is healed, beholding the Glory of the Lord.

And those of us left here somehow, after a glimpse of His glory behind the veil are left to be transformed into the same image, from glory to glory….

In the Greek, glory, doxa, one definition translates to this:

splendor, brightness

  • of sun, moon and stars.
  • magnificence, excellence, preeminence, dignity, grace
  • majesty…a thing belonging to God.

In the dusk of that evening,

I reflect that my friend belongs to God
I reflect on the dignity and grace of her last days

the sun reflects in the sky and the moon rises

and my daughter
reaches beneath the moon, reaches forward, reaches for new possibilities… hope

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I wonder why some of us are left behind, and some of us are taken
and see how there is too much transforming left to do
so I too
will reach beyond myself
reach forward, stretching to places uncomfortable and unknown

and someday, when all is unveiled
I will behold His glory
and understand

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vulnerable

yesterday I watched those young actors on Glee act out and experience raw at the same time the grief of their friend, I think what is so moving about their pain, so touching about their vulnerability onscreen and in real life, that their gift of song that expresses their pain is so touching

pain and beauty side by side
seen in the most vulnerable moments

but on this side of the screen, we mask our hurt and pain, afraid to be exposed, to be vulnerable.

we do not hold the pain out in front of us, instead cover it up and move on
when we are dying inside

one of my favorite verses tells us

he gives us beauty for ashes
the oil of joy for mourning
the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness

as I have cared for my mom over the past few years
I see the most painful moments, the ones that cut me most deeply,
are the ones where I am most vulnerable,
the ones that expose my emotions most raw
the ugly ones, the hurtful ones, the scared ones, the grieving ones

the following is one of those…….

……kathy, you who have been caring for your mom for 14 years, I give this to you…..to the others I met at the caregivers conference I give this to you….we may be exposed, raw, naked, but we are not alone….

lola

naked

naked
even the word is unsettling
naked i come from my mothers womb, naked i will depart

but now before me, is my mother
naked, helpless,
as i was when i came from her body

the hands and limbs that once bathed me, dressed me, held me
are now the ones that i must help bathe and dress

but its too hard to hold
this reversal is too painful
too vulnerable

to see her naked before me
too unsettling,

for now i am the one exposed

she is the one depending on me

when i was a little girl
i was completely attached to my mother

i always needed to know where she was
i needed to sense her presence
i cried if she did not come home
when she said she would be home

now her eyes scan the room for me,
watch my moves

she is the one to question,
“where are you going?”
she asks, “where am I?
is this my home?”
i tell her no, this is my home
she says,
“i want to go home.”

this helplessness, her utter dependence on me
physically and emotionally
leave me feeling helpless

because without my mother here,
who is there for me?

who is there to comfort me when i am down
or run to when i have exciting news
or sit with a cup of coffee to share my day

even grown daughters need their mothers

she is here

trapped in this jar of clay
with a fading mind
but still a treasured spirit

some days she cries and asks for her mother

she says she wants to go to her

i tell she’s not here anymore, she’s been gone a very long time
she looks at me with crestfallen face
trying to remember
then recollecting
“oh…”

she looks at me and tells me
“i’m ready to go.”
ready to go where mom?
“up there.”
she smiles and points to heaven

this treasured spirit
in a jar of clay
yearns for her heavenly home

her fragile mind has broken free
from the restrictions of this world

this world that knows time
hurts, anger, pain,
overcommitments, stress, sorrow
guilt

all have been shattered
by this disease called Alzheimer’s
a blessing in disguise

for we are called to live in the moment
to love in the moment
to enjoy only the thing set in front of us
to hold on to the smiles
to pray
to hold
to touch

sometimes the grief is too much to bear
so a hold and touch is too much to give

the nakedness is too much
the rawness is too much
from grieving the person
she once was

she once was
just like me
vibrant
full of laughter and life
the center of her family
caring for their needs
and keeping them together

who says she is not keeping us together now
in prayer

at night she says to me
“thank you for taking care of me.
may God bless you for all you do
i always pray for that.”

so i continue to care for her
this treasure in this jar of clay
and when this jar is finally broken
i will be able to pick up the shattered pieces
and hand them back to the Father she loves

the spirit that yearns for Him
will go home