Part of your world

I've been taking some well-deserved time off from my studies to rest, reflect, and recharge. As I ponder the various facets of my life, I find myself thinking about the people in my life and what they mean to me. I try to put myself in their shoes to empathize better with them, and when I got to my mother, I found something quite distressful.

My mom's life sucks.

She has dementia. All of her life, she always looked at folks with dementia and told us, "If I ever get like that, take me out in the field and shoot me." And now she has dementia. And she is watched, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And she is medicated if she gets unruly. And she feels like she is alone: even though people come to see her on a regular basis, she doesn't remember that. She only remembers the last fifteen seconds.

Image "Crying Old Lady" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

If ever anyone lived in the moment, it is a person with dementia. However, feelings - even if someone doesn't remember the reasons behind them - remain. The feelings affect mood, and can make a person with dementia profoundly depressed. Or anxious. Or angry.

And what makes the feelings? Thoughts lead to feelings, even though the thoughts are no longer remembered. And words - whether spoken by the person or by those around them - create the thoughts. Combined with core beliefs about oneself - things one tells the self through decades of habit - a person who has dementia cannot reason themselves out of those feelings. Reasoning is useless. For someone (like my mom) who has prefronto-temporal dementia, the ability to reason and to make decisions and carry them out is absolutely GONE.  All that is left is the lizard-brain ... the limbic system ... the one that lives totally in the present, that is influenced by words and thoughts but that doesn't remember them; it just feels what it feels. 

So for those who think that it doesn't matter what they say when they visit a dementia patient because "they won't remember what i say anyway", think again. Their MIND may not remember, but their FEELINGS remember. So trying to convince them of the rightness of something about which they have believed all their life is wrong will serve only to frustrate and upset them without knowing why. And after the visitor leaves, it is the staff who have to deal with the fallout: the patient becomes agitated, distressed, depressed, anxious, or whatever, and needs to be medicated more just to make them "manageable." 

So - dear readers - leave your arguments and your opinions home when you visit a person who has dementia. Learn to enter their world - the world of the continual present - and even when they bring up your pet topic, refrain from discussing it. Distract the person toward the positive (not YOUR idea of positive, but THEIRS). If that means lying to them and telling them that it won't be long before they will be going home, then do that rather than tell them that they're going to a nursing home.  To many, including my mom, a nursing home is a horrible, torturous place where people go to be forgotten and to die alone. You can't convince her otherwise; it's too deeply ingrained. Don't even try. 

Phone them. Talk to them, let THEM talk. If you can't physically be there, phone them, send them cards and letters (happy ones!) and little gifts.  Do it often. The hospital / nursing home can be a lonely place. Don't forget them.

If you can be there, then BE there for THEM.  Play cards or board games with them. Watch TV with them. Encourage them, compliment them in every way possible. They are no longer part of your world; accept that. Be part of their world. Enter THEIR reality, the reality of seconds. Not days, not hours, not even minutes, but seconds. Leave your preconceptions and your grief at what they have already lost, and what you have lost with it, at the door. You are there for that person, not for yourself. You are not there to talk anyone else down or to win any arguments.  You are there to brighten their outlook. You are there to make it easier for that person (and for the staff who look after that person) to live a little more pleasantly. 

That is the way you visit those who are infirm, who live inside the prison of their own mind. Don't judge them. Don't judge those they love. Talk only of pleasant things, things that are pleasant for THEM.

Just be there for them, whether in person or not. Just BE.

Growing Season

Earlier this week, I looked outside our picture window and I couldn't help it - a short, surprised, delighted gasp escaped my lips.

Some of the crocus were blooming - the ones closest to the cement step out front. The step is painted a forest green, so it absorbs the heat, and it is slightly warmer in that section of the flower garden. 

It surprises me every time. Winter lasts so very long in the Maritimes that I am startled at any sign of the S-word (you know, Spring - the word whispered in corners so as not to scare away the sunshine...) 

And amazed. 

The bulbs, first planted in the fall before the frost hits, have been asleep all winter, and now they wake from their slumber. Granted, they are the eternal optimists and usually, there is the false start to the spring season. The warm weather allows them to thrive, but it is only to followed by an ice-storm that destroys their delicate blooms. 

This time of year makes me pensive - I start thinking of new life, hope, and promise. 

Last year's blooms

This year, though, recent events (such as our daughter's surgery, as well as some other things) have started me thinking about the entirety of the growing season - from cultivation to planting to weeding to harvest. 

What strikes me as I think about this is that there is a definite structure to it all. The land needs to be worked, aerated. If it doesn't drain well, we mix mulch and other kinds of soil - maybe even sand - into the garden to prepare it to be planted (whether with bulbs, vegetable seed, rhizomes, or pre-started plants.) And then the REAL work begins.

The law of the harvest isn't ONLY that you reap what you sow. It goes a bit further than that. Once germinated, the young plant needs to be nurtured, given room to grow (weeding comes in here), and provided with food and water in just the right proportions for the harvest to be optimal. I've explored these analogies before, but today what jumped out at me was the one thing I hate almost as much as I hate weeding. 

Waiting. 

It seems interminable before the first shoots poke their heads up out of the ground. That in itself is exciting (for the gardener) - but then comes a period of waiting that seems to stretch on forever. The tension between what is and what shall be is frustrating at times. Often it is as much as three months before harvest can happen. Yet there is much to do during that time: hard work to keep the roots clear of encumbrances, working the soil frequently so that it is loose and provides room to grow, and sometimes even pest control. The task is not something one would seek out.

Some of my most unpleasant gardening memories as a child surround being coerced into weeding in my parents' large vegetable garden amongst clouds of mosquitoes and blackflies that seemed inexorably drawn to my tender skin, and walking between the rows of foot-high potato plants with a Coke bottle in one hand - a bottle which had been half-filled with kerosene. I'd pick up and plop squirming potato bugs - adults AND larvae - into the bottle to exterminate them (shudder) and all under a hot and punishing summer sun - a sun which would have been welcome at the beach. But alas, it was not to be.

Some things about the growing season aren't very comfortable, let's just put it like that. I'd so much rather skip to the end, reap the benefits right away. However, it doesn't work that way. Time has to pass, I must work, and I must wait for nature to take its course. I must also cooperate with it on its own terms; the ground will not give forth its bounty easily. It will always tend to slip back into a state of chaos. 

It needs maintenance, husbandry, tending, care.

How like the process of spiritual healing, of recovery, of parenting, of any process where there is an end result desired and it takes time and (grit teeth) patience to get there. 

Sometimes I do what I know is the right thing, and reality's thorns pop up and try to choke the life out of what good I am trying to do. That sucks... but it happens. So ... I do the next right thing. And I pray that a whole sequence of small decisions to live honestly, openly, and willingly, to set boundaries (and enforce them) when I need to, and to let go of things (and people, and outcomes) that I can't change, will eventually produce a bountiful crop. (Or a beautiful flower. Even if the flower doesn't believe she's beautiful.) 

"Do the next right thing," I have learned as I recover from codependency. 

Even when the choice to do the next right thing is hard. (And even when I do it wrong!!) And sometimes, even when doing the right thing makes someone else believe I'm doing the wrong thing, and that person makes a self-destructive choice based on that belief. Those are the hardest things for me to accept. 

The growing season happens one day at a time. My courage fails me when I focus on the endlessness of it, and I complain that it's taking forever for this thing or that thing to happen. 

But I can do only what I can do ... TODAY. Just this one day, I can make the next right choice. I might not be able to do it graciously, or perfectly - but I can live in the moment and do what I need to do to accept what is, and to take care of myself and the people I love, today. 

After all, this moment is all anyone has.

After the miracle comes

In my last blog post, I talked about my friend whose faith through a trial has been tenacious. Of course, the amazing happened in her life and God really showed Himself strong in her situation when all seemed hopeless. Here is an account of her miracle, and a few comments on it. 

And now that she has received her impossible dream-come-true, like Henny Penny from the fairy tale by Andersen, she looked around and found that nobody from the circle of friends she expected has lifted a finger to help her rid herself of the vestiges of her old life and get started in a new one. A new group of friends pitched in their time and resources to help her. But as she sat across our supper table from me last evening, she shook her head and said, "Nobody from [XXXXX] even showed up." 

I tried to make excuses for the group she mentioned, but it was tough, you know? Everyone makes time for what is important to him/ her. 

Snowflakes - miracles in themselves

Yet ... this time has been great for her to strengthen friendships with those who really do care about her and about her happiness and who show it. I've had priceless opportunities to put "skin" on my platitudes and actually roll up my sleeves and invest a little "sweat equity" into the relationship. 

Am I stiff and sore this morning? Oh yeah. Do I regret digging deep into two of my most precious commodities - time and energy - to help her? 

Absolutely not. In fact, I've been encouraged by her excitement, even challenged by her getting into the "Christmas spirit" (something I haven't felt for years, except in fleeting moments, nothing sustained) and wanting to decorate her place for the holidays. Everything feels so fresh and new, and her gratitude for God's goodness is tangible. 

It is wonderful that so many have had the blessing of praying for her and being able to take part - in some small way - in what God did for her. But it would have been nice to not have left the other, more practical things, for others to do. 

There are a lot of ads on TV these days about child sponsorship and giving a goat to a family half-way around the world. But what about the person who lives in our city, goes to our church perhaps, who is living below the poverty line and who struggles to make ends meet? who has to choose between food and electricity? What about the homeless in our own back yard? What about "at-risk" families in our province or state who don't have enough money to buy Christmas presents or school supplies or shoes for their kids? 

I'm talking to me, too. Ouch!

I know of some families who have given up on buying each other gifts for Christmas and who donate their time at the soup kitchen, or who donate the money they would have spent on Christmas shopping ... to turkey drives or the food bank. Thinking "outside the boxes" beneath the tree might do a lot of good for people who need help; it would also let them know that someone cares for them in a way that surpasses platitudes. And the thing about giving in that way is: it not only meets a need in someone's liife, but it helps the one who gives ... in ways that can't be measured. 

It might even spark some Christmas spirit. 

Seeds

Don't judge each day by the harvest that you reap but by the seeds that you plant. - Robert Louis Stevenson


I heard this quote for the first time tonight. 

It reminded me of one of my favorite stories, based on a true story, called "The Man Who Planted Trees" - if you don't know it, I suggest you go to YouTube and look it up - the video (done by the National Film Board and narrated by Christopher Plummer) is about 30 minutes or so, and for this reason they have broken it up into about three parts, I think.  Anyway, the story is about how the faithful planting of trees by one man for several years, transformed a desolate wasteland into a life-filled countryside. 

I got this still from the video at this site

The truth is, we don't know what our seed-sowing will produce.  We have no idea whose life we will touch, or how - and we may never know. But someone will. 

Someone is glad I am here. Someone has been, is being, or will be blessed by something I do, say, or leave behind.  I do believe that.  I believe it is true for every person; each has a purpose that is far beyond his or her capacity to imagine.  

It is hard to say what that might be, or how it will pan out in the end.  But we all plant seeds - for good or ... not - and these seeds WILL bear fruit.  We may be curious as to the reasons why, or to our purpose, or to the "harvest" that may result.  But the harvest - small or large - doesn't matter.  Only the planting matters.  One seed after another: a smile, a kind word.  Honesty, openness, willingness, day after day, hour upon hour.  

Tiny seeds. Who knows where they will lead, how much they will grow?
I don't.  But I know Who does.

Showing it

About a month ago, while I was going through a very difficult time emotionally (to the point where I was losing sleep and having physical symptoms) I remember being in a store with my husband when we saw a friend of ours.  He stopped to talk to us and expressed his concern for me.  He'd noticed that I had lost the colour in my cheeks, was dragging myself around, and seemed very tired and/or sick. He said that he'd been praying for me, and that my husband and I were very special to him. As we parted, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Look after yourself...and feel better SOON."

The whole encounter took about five minutes.  But it felt so great to know that someone cared, someone noticed, someone wanted me to be happy, and that he took the time to SHOW that.  I hung onto that expression of loving concern for days and days.  It really meant a lot to me.  It fed my heart, so to speak.

Today, I saw him again.  He remarked how much better I was looking these days - more relaxed, more colour in my cheeks, more bounce in my step.  He said it was encouraging to see that.  Again I was reminded that I was loved, that my feelings mattered.  What a tremendous gift.  

From "The Importance of Hugging"

This fellow had learned somewhere along the line, that it's not enough to just care.  Care must be SHOWN to make a difference to someone.  It doesn't take long - five minutes during a random meeting, a few words or a smile and a wave, an encouraging text message, a short email, even a phone call.  But it can make the difference between someone feeling as though nobody cares, and borrowing a little hope to make it through another day until the sun starts to shine through. 

I really hope that the next time I am tempted to tell someone I care, I will remember to show it too ... just so the person knows I mean what I say and that it's not just empty words.  

Food for thought.

Faith is ...

"Just believe, just have faith."  So often these words slip from between our lips.  But what do they mean?  Are they platitudes or are they real?  And if they're real, how do they work? what do they look like in practical terms?  

I believe that faith is paradoxical.  It is most active when it insists upon being passive, and it is most impotent when it insists on frantically acting ... because after all, we can't just stand there; we have to DO something!  

Of course by passive I don't mean lazy.  I mean that there is a desire, a deep desire to let God be God and not to hinder His work.  There is a determination to trust when there may seem to be nothing there to justify that trust.  

Source (via Google Images):
http://www.revelife.com/757008876/father-and-son-lessons-in-trust/

Faith is falling. (By falling I don't mean into temptation!)  It's that moment when you know that you can't save yourself from falling flat on your face if you pursue His presence ... and there's nothing there that you can see ... and you fall anyway, let yourself go, knowing in your deepest heart that He'll catch you. 

Faith - if you can feel it emotionally - is very comforting.  Millions of people are comforted by believing that God is with them and sensing His presence.  But it's also frightening.  Believing, trusting, having faith - takes a lot of courage!!  Or is that desperation??  Especially when the emotion just isn't there, when the heavens seem like a giant quonset hut roof, words echoing back and making a big noise... signifying nothing.  When prayer seems to go unanswered.  When the circumstances are oppressive.  

It's those times when - as one songwriter wrote - "believing becomes my victory."  When all strength is gone, and there is nothing left, faith is content to rest - to relinquish all that is not conducive to the spirit-life within and to simply focus, moment-by-moment, on that which is good, pure, praise-worthy, and virtuous.  To shove aside all that detracts from that determination and to lean against His shoulder, to relax into the loving care of God - and let Him carry you.

Winding up

I've been doing a fair bit of thinking about the process of inner healing which I describe in detail in my book (see the link right under the archives).  

There is a certain mental or spiritual preparation that takes place prior to doing the "hard work" of healing - the day-to-day slogging leg work that (without help) is virtually impossible to maintain.  It's a very slow-motion version of a pitcher "winding up" to pitch a ball - gathering up all the energy that's available and aligning the body and the vision in such a way that when the energy is released, it's extremely focused and will achieve the desired result.  

Care must be taken not to overdo or overextend, and I must say that the process does not come naturally, so coaching and training are essential.  It really helps to have someone beside you at first who has done it before, who can walk you through the necessary steps.  

That "winding up" period is the mental or spiritual determination to do whatever is necessary to be free.  Even if it means admitting (after years of trying and failing) that you can't do it all by yourself.  Even if it means that you have to ask God for help and trust Him to give you the strength to do the next right thing.  Once He is consulted, He is tireless in His commitment to completing the masterpiece He has been given the permission to start.  

It's essential to gather those mental and emotional resources to enter the process of "getting unwrapped."  God's involvement is what gives the healing process its power to transform.  Without that, (and believe me, I've tried and I know others who have tried - and we all bear witness to this) the process will fail.  Every time.  

This is not a one-time thing, either.  It's ongoing.  Drawing strength from God to keep on becoming free ... is essential.  The grave-clothes of the past do tend to get stuck on us sometimes - some things just don't want to loosen their grip on us, and some things we aren't ready to give up.   

Yet, that is. God doesn't give up that easily.