So What's Between the Bread, Anyways?

I guess I am whatever is inside this sandwich.  An interesting thought to ponder, I guess.  Midlife crisis?  Maybe. I've been a nurse now for going on nearly two decades. What do I want to be doing for the next 20 or 30 years? My heart yearns toward writing and speaking, yet I very much enjoy my job which gives me extensive flexibility and a stable paycheck. Do you really ever know if you are at a crossroads until you have passed it? What I do know is that I was certainly called by God to be a mother.  That has to continue to remain the number one priority.  Secondly, I have been put in a position to minister to my parents.  What an honor and a privilege it is to help the very people who gave so much for me.  But what about that third piece of the pie? (Or in this case, sandwich!) What is that supposed to be right now? Continue as I have been?  Add the writing and speaking piece in addition? It would be so nice if God would use email to convey his will!  But I know that part of the maturing and growing is going through the process to discover what his will is in our lives.

I do think that there are a lot of opportunities that exist to help educate people about this disease and how to best help those suffering from its effects, but are still able to be out and in the community.  I do believe that since many people don't know what to do or how to do it, they just choose to do nothing at all.  Their fear of doing or saying the wrong thing causes them to not do anything at all.  Those closest to the Alzheimer's patient often confuse their ignorance (and I'm using that term as it is defined; please do not confuse it with stupidity) with insensitivity. 

Yesterday I received a wonderful book in the mail.  It is titled, Creating Moments of Joy by Jolene Brackey. I was unable to locate it at my local bookstore, but was able to order it through Amazon.com. I was completely hooked after just a few pages.  I wish that today I had the time to just sit down and devour the book in its entireity.  It is nothing short of amazing.  It is humorous, light-hearted and REAL.  It gives practical insite into how to best bring joy to the Alzheimer's patient and subsequently those closest to them. If you know ANYONE who has suffered from this disease, it is a must read.  I am so thankful to the family who recommended it to me.  Up until this point, I became nauseated everytime I even picked up a book on the subject of Alzheimers.  This book is different and leaves you yearning for more. 

Last night my nine-year-old daughter asked me if Nanny would be able to come to her wedding.  I had to answer her that I did not think Nanny would be able to do that, but that perhaps when we are in Heaven, God allows us to have glimpses of those we love when they are so happy.  She burst into tears and exclaimed that she wanted Nanny to see her in her wedding dress!  I just held her tight and she cried while I prayed; for her, for my mom, for wisdom in how to guide my children through this.  I absolutely hate it when kids bring up things for which you have NO ANSWER and can't even give them anything that makes any logical sense to you, let alone their little minds. Finally, I settled on sharing with her that my sister Joyce, who was premature and passed away the same day she was born, needed a turn with Nanny. I shared with her how we have had Nanny all these years and Joyce would get to have her for a few years before we all got there and had an eternity to spend together. This brought a huge smile to her face.  "I never thought about it like that", she said.

This brings me back to the half of the sandwich that remains my number one responsibility; my children. The part of the sandwich that remains in between the slices of bread is still evolving, changing and growing.  Stay tuned...

Why is Parenting Scary?

Many of you would reply to the title of this post with something about parenting being scary because kids are scary!  Well, I would probably give you that one.  Sometimes my children scare me to death! I remember like it was yesterday and they were five, three and an infant.  It was so much work; diapers, potty training, teaching them to control their bodies AND their mouths made it exhausting.  Specifically, I remember wanting that stage to be over and for all of them to be able to tie their own shoes and go to school ALL DAY! Fast forward almost a decade and I'm suddenly wishing it to slow down! I realize that I have but a short three and one-half years with my oldest and she will be off to college. My days of significant influence in her life is probably over for awhile, at least.  Yes, my influence is still there, but she more likely now looks to her peers, mentors and teachers whom she admires. (Thankfully she has very Godly role models or this would be even scarier!)

However, something my pastor pointed out on Sunday was that the scariest moments in his "pastoring career" came with the realization that someone was actually LISTENING!  The responsibility that brings is tremendous and scary!  Someday, as Pastor Clark said, I will have to stand before God and give an account for anything I said in representation of Him! Yikes! Could it be that is what scares me the most about parenting?  That they actually ARE listening? And are they only listening when I don't really want them to be listening? When I am handling disappointment or frustration what are they hearing? Are they hearing that I trust God to take care of me or are they hearing that I think my problem is too big for God to handle?

What if they are really listening? Perhaps that is also where some of my frustration lies?  They are listening and therefore when they do not handle situations as I would like it may be only because they are doing exactly what I do? Scary, indeed. 


What if much of my fear lies in the brevity of it all?  Will she be ready to be out on her own? Let me tell you, my kids think I am a "mean" mom.  I believe that it is my job to allow them to do as much for themselves as possible.  By the time they are somewhere into their senior year of high school, my goal is that they are governing themselves, doing their own laundry, able to prepare a meal, balance their checking account and set their own curfew.  I don't know if I will succeed in all that and I am certain that even if I do I will fail in other areas.  But it remains a goal I have for my kids.  I don't want to send them out with no ability to handle themselves.


Parenting is without a doubt the scariest, most wonderful, most frustrating, most incredible thing I have ever participated in.  One of my favorite sayings is: (And I have absolutely no idea where it came from) "Kids turn out despite us, not because of us."

Times Are Changing Fast

It is interesting that once I started writing about my mother and this disease, I suddenly began to think more critically of what was happening around me; in the present and in the past. I've come to realize that my mother has actually been suffering from Alzheimers for probably four years or possibly more.  I remember the time several years ago when she was unable to orient herself enough in a department store to find the exit.  I remember the time when she suddenly did not remember how to sew together a baby blanket and my sister had to show her.  These moments were transient, however, and the rest of the time she seemed like "mom". Even as a nurse myself I was under the false assumption that without a change in personality, it couldn't possibly be Alzheimer's.  It was so easy to explain away these momentary lapses in memory or as we call it in the medical field, "executive functioning". Then there was the day in May of 2009 when she had an accident just outside of the town where they live.  She was inches from disaster.  Fortunately the only injury was to the car itself.  Was that the disease?  Or was it just a normal lapse in judgement or eyesight that so many of us have ourselves experienced?

Now, it seems that with every passing month there is a new symptom; something else that mom can no longer do like she used to. However, her personality still continues to remain largely intact. I have decided that I am glad that we did not know it was Alzheimer's before we did.  We went about life very normally with her.  We didn't spend the last three or so years with an "elephant" in the room.  We just enjoyed our times together. But it would also explain why now the disease seems to move rather quickly through the various stages. It does worry me that my father and my children have not had enough time to prepare.

She often resorts back to what she has always done best, which is take care of others.  Two recurrent themes seem to come up time after time as of late; taking care of the "men" and having children in her home. Interestingly enough the men are all of differing ages and stages of life and seem to go and do whatever my dad is doing.  The man who made the coffee one morning last week she described as "quite a talker" and "almost like a grandfather figure to me".  Undoubtably it must be my dad as he is now.  This lead me to ponder the idea further and I honestly believe in my heart that all the "men" are my dad in the various stages of life as she remembers him.  It is beautiful and heart breaking all at the same time. We have definately come to realize that for her own safety, mom can no longer be left alone.  This is going to be a tough transition for everyone, but with community resources that are available along with numerous friends and family I know that she will be well cared for.  But of course this leads to me feeling guilty that I cannot do more for her.  But I also know that she would just "crown me" (Those are the words she would use.) if I would come and care for her when I should be doing things for my own kids.  Ah yes, back to that whole sandwhich thing. How do I organize my life efficiently enough to allow the maximum time possible with her?  Especially when there are times that I really just want to run away from all of it? I don't pretend to have all the answers.  I'm searching, like so many of us are searching; for balance, for sanity, for the peace that comes with having no regrets.

I believe the most beautiful moment of my entire relationship with my mother came the day after her "diagnosis" in March 2010. We had just spent a wonderful day together as daughters and parents.  There were no husbands or children that day.  The six of us were simply gathered at my parents home where we visited and just enjoyed being with each other. We did not even talk that much about the "diagnosis". That evening when I left, my mom was standing at the kitchen sink doing some dishes.  She stopped, dried her hands and suddenly I found myself in the most meaningful and memorable embrace of my lifetime. We stood holding each other, and she just kept repeating to me that she loved me, loved my family and that I was so special to her.  "I love you so much, oh so much", she said to me. "I love you so much, mom", I said several times.  I don't know how long the embrace lasted for sure, but it just does not really matter.  I drove to my home with tears streaming down my cheeks knowing that I had just experienced one of the most important moments in my life and that I had been given a gift like no other. So many people are hurting, alone, without ever knowing that kind of love.  If my mom had gone home to be with the Lord that night I would have been at peace knowing that she knew how much I loved her and I most certainly knew how much she loved me. No regrets...

Why do we wait? Why do we wait for a diagnosis or tragedy to tell those most important to us how much we care?  How much we love them? I am most certainly guilty of this as well.  We so often get so caught up in the business of life that we forget what life is really supposed to be about. Will that "to-do" list matter if tomorrow you are diagnosed with a terminal disease or are in a car accident? The type of gift I was given by my mother that evening cannot possibly have a price tag associated with it - it was too precious to even begin to assign it a monetary value. Yet it was free. We all possess within us those same valuable gifts that we can give to others. It will cost us nothing, but a moment of our time, but it can remain with them for a lifetime.

Leaves...

Today while out for my run/walk I just could not help but notice the intense beauty of the leaves this fall.  I honestly cannot remember a fall more beautiful.  Day after day the weather is the same.  Cool in the evening and morning with bright, sunny, warm afternoons.  It's becoming so routine that I barely have to watch the weather anymore, and that is rare indeed for this part of the country where if you don't like the weather just stick around for a day and it will surely change.

Today I stopped and stood underneath one of the most beautiful Oak trees I have ever seen.  Within the tree was various shades of green, gold, red and orange.  In fact, upon further inspection some of the leaves themselves held all four of those colors within them.  The tree across the street had already lost all of it's leaves, others were almost "raining" leaves on me as I passed underneath and still other held all their leaves still green and gently swaying in the wind.  As I pondered this, I wondered why is it that given the same weather and location why would some trees be completely bare while others had not even began to change color? Then I further wondered why some 81 year-old people are still active and engaged in their lives and the lives of others, while others have already passed away and still others, like my mom, remain with us but yet not as she once was.

It would seem that it is God's order of things. Some things within his creation last but for a day.  Some for months or years and others for a decades or more than a century.  And perhaps it is the combination of all those things that add such beauty. What a wonder to gaze upon a hill full of trees at this time of year (Ohio comes to mind) with the beautiful display of color; green, red, orange, yellow...all mixed together. What a beautiful representation of a family where within the generations are green, red, orange, all together composing God's masterpiece and each completing their mission of time of earth.  Ecclesiastes 3:1 "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven."

Knowing Mom...

The following post was acutally written in June of 2010, but I thought it would be extremely effective to help you get to know my mom if you didn't already.

Today’s date: June 4, 2010. One day before my parents will celebrate their 59^th wedding anniversary. Such a rarity these days to see two people as much in love now as they were then. I say as much in love, but yet it is a different type of love. Their love is so real; the way they care for each other, the way my mom looks to my dad for reassurance, for him to fill in the blanks when her memory fails her for a name, a date or a place. The way he helps her in the kitchen, buys groceries and has even learned to make a cake or yeast bread from scratch. Together they work through the daily tasks of life at 80 young years-of-age. One’s memory is failing and the other’s heart is breaking as he watches the love of his life slowly start to slip away. My mother has Alzheimers.

  

When my Dad and Mom were 38 and 39 respectively, and in early 1969, they learned that they would be expecting their fifth child. At the time they had 3 living daughters; Sue 15, Deb 13, and Jean 9. There had been one other daughter born between Deb and Jean. She had been quite premature and died shortly after birth. Her name was Joyce. You can imagine the shock when they learned that one more was on the way and on September 8, 1969, Elizabeth (Beth) Ann was born. Elizabeth for my grandmother who had passed away just 10 days prior and Ann for my other grandmother who had passed when my mother was 11. My dad always said that they could have had 10 kids and they would all have been girls. Some would have considered him cursed to be a farmer with all daughters, but he never considered it to be. Many people thought they would be upset about my impending arrival, but he always said, "We didn’t plan her, but we plan to love her."

My dad had a moderate sized farm and my mother was a homemaker and volunteer extrordinaire. She had a fruit and vegetable garden that was at least two acres in size. There was a strawberry patch that yielded at least 150 quarts of berries every year. There were potatoes which were always planted on Good Friday, peas, beans, sweet corn, pumpkins, cucumbers for eating and pickling, radishes, onions, lettuce, tomatoes and an entire row of fruit trees; cherries, apples, peaches, apricots and all of these delectable morsels were canned, frozen or otherwise eaten. Oh, and one cannot forget the beautiful roses that my mother grew. The entire house would be filled with one bud vase after the other with the beautiful, fragrant flowers.

If all that wasn’t enough there were acres of grass to be mowed, house to clean, fence to paint, and meals to cook; three squares a day plus morning and afternoon "lunch", as it was called. Cakes, cookies, bread, melt-in-your mouth pastries, and everything baked from scratch and with butter. Of course, laundry, ironing, visiting the sick or elderly relatives, family gatherings, spear-heading our 4-H club for as many years as I can remember, sewing, quilting…well, I think you get the picture. This lady could, without a doubt get more done by 9 o’clock in the morning than most people could accomplish all day; perhaps even in a week. She ran on coffee, leftovers, a good attitude, and a very long "to-do" list.  She was Superwoman to me!

The Beginning...

My beautiful mother, Ellen, was born on September 15, 1929 on the eve of the Great Depression. She grew up near Beatrice, Nebraska during a time when nothing was wasted. It was hot, dusty and money was scarce. She walked a quarter of a mile to the one-room school house where she first learned to speak English.  On a good day, she got beans inside her sandwich instead of lard.  She was the third of four daughers and when she was just 11, her mother succumbed to an infection and died. Raised largely by her older sister Martha, this event marked her life and made her who she is; a deeply caring, compassionate woman who always puts others before herself.  On June 5, 1951 she married her childhood sweetheart.  My name is Elizabeth (Beth) and I am the youngest of five daughters.  I have three living sisters and three beautiful children of my own who at this writing are 14, 12 and 9.  I proudly wear the label "Sandwich Generation".  I am raising and caring for my own children while simultaneously watching and sometimes caring for my 81 year-old mother who suffers from Alzheimer's Disease.  For several years, we were able to successfully dismiss her "forgetfulness" as normal aging. However soon we realized that this was more than just normal aging.  However, convincing my parents of that was a different story. Finally in March 2010 we received the diagnosis of Alzheimer's Disease. Her tolerance of the medications tried so far has been dismal and her descent into the "chrysalis" or cocoon of Alzheimer's Disease is occurring faster than we ever anticipated. Meanwhile, my oldest child's launch into High School has occurred simultaneously and I find myself in the busiest decade of my life.  Being born when my parents were 40, I would often joke that they would have to come to my high school graduation in wheelchairs.  Fast forward more than 20 years post-graduation and I have all my children all still at home.  My older sisters (15, 13 and 10 years older) are all grandmothers and all empty-nesters.  Their reflections of this journey will undoubtably be different from my own.  I hope to have them "guest blog" often to lend a different perspective.

Coming blogs will feature her story; the story of the woman she was and still is beneath the disease that now ravages her mind and robs us of this amazing woman. They will also chronicle our journey thus far and take a glimpse into this journey from my children's perspective.