Cooperation

Daughter came home in a cooperative mood. She knows I have people coming this evening for pre-marital counseling. She fixed supper tonight, and has been working at getting the living room and downstairs hall cleaned up. I've been at the computer, trying to figure out what I'm doing for our Blue Christmas Service on Sunday evening. I had hoped to have the bulletin done for that so it could be printed today, but didn't manage to do that with everything else we were working on this morning. Secretary will come in tomorrow morning and we'll get it printed then.

I told Daughter I had decided we'd done enough decorating for this year. She was very pleased to hear that. I guess we're both Scrooges. We still have quite a bit of cleaning to do, but I'd rather do that than decorate. I'll do a bit more baking, as well. But we're going to aim for a peaceful holiday. I lit candles in the fire place and turned on the Christmas tree lights tonight. It's very pleasant in the living room. I enjoyed meeting with the couple who were here for the counseling. They are going to face some challenges, so hopefully I can give them the tools to build a successful marriage. One of my kids came by with the FFA Christmas ham I bought after they left. Daughter was already in her pj's, so that sent her running up the stairs. I pointed out that it's not Christmas yet, he just shrugged. He sold $1300 worth of hams and citrus fruit this year.

The nursing home claims the 26 lbs Dad has gained is due to his clothing, 3 units of blood, and not being dehydrated. I hope they're right, but I'm skeptical. Brother thinks Sister is over reacting. Sister thinks Brother is ignoring a dangerous situation. I'm trying to stay out of it. As I pointed out to Sister, this nursing home took good care of Dad last time he was there, and if they are monitoring him closely and he is in congestive heart failure, they'll figure it out quickly. I'm going to put that aside and focus on the situation here.

I'm almost done figuring out the Blue Christmas service. As I find words of comfort for those experiencing grief and stress around the holidays, I find I'm speaking to myself, as well. I hope that those who attend the service Sunday night find it as comforting as I am.

Letting Go of Traditions

Mom was a Christmas perfectionist. She'd let us decorate the tree, then after we went to bed she'd rearrange all the ornaments and make sure the tinsel was on perfectly. She'd go outside to make sure it looked perfect from the street. She spent December baking-- all sorts of cookies, including Santa's that had intricate decorations. We could never help decorate, because they had to be done perfectly. The cookies were then arranged very artistically on plates to be delivered to the neighbors. The plate for each neighbor took into account their likes and dislikes and the number of children they had. In other words, she was the only one who could fix the plates, though she did allow us to deliver them.

She made our Christmas cards, which always included a picture. There were years when getting the four of us to all look angelic in the same picture was quite an ordeal. She refused to send a generic letter. Each card had to have a personal note, often with comments on their letter from the previous year. From Thanksgiving through the New Year, there would be a card table set up where she would be working on Christmas cards in whatever moments she could grab. We couldn't help with the cards, either, because they had to be perfect. By the time we got to Christmas, everyone was on edge.

Here in Tiny Village, I live in a big, beautiful house provided by the church. It was built in 1900, and has beautiful woodwork throughout. The first year I moved here, Mom had a great time buying all the Christmas decorations that wouldn't fit in her house. I had garlands hanging over the large entrances to the living room and study. There were garlands over the windows in the living room and dining room (each carefully measured to make sure it hung evenly, of course). There were Christmas trees and poinsettias and all sorts of treasures.

Being my mother's daughter, I have dutifully pulled out all the decorations each year. Remembering the stress decorations caused growing up, I have never really enjoyed putting them all out. But I've done it. I've baked cookies and made candy and generally duplicated all my mother's efforts while adding the burden of extra worship services and visits and everything else that goes with ministry in December.

This evening, Daughter and I decorated the Christmas tree. I pulled out the nativity scenes and displayed them on the mantle. There are still numerous boxes in the attic, full of garlands and a Christmas village and all sorts of treasures. Tonight I have made a decision. I'm going to let go of the tradition of stressing over perfect decorations and cookies. I have decided that a Christmas tree and some nativity scenes are enough decorations. I don't need the clutter or the stress. I may make some more cookies, but I won't stress over making the variety my mother did. I'm not going to add to my stress.

I can do this now, because Mom's dementia is advanced enough that she won't know that I'm being a Scrooge. Since she won't know, she won't be able to lay a guilt trip on me. Of course, I will still feel a little bit guilty. But I'm going to start a new tradition this year: I'm going to focus on the peace of Christmas and not allow old traditions to overwhelm me. Daughter and I will enjoy a simple Christmas. We're not going to exhaust ourselves trying to create the perfect Christmas. We will enjoy our tree and the decorations we've put up. The rest will stay safely hidden away in the attic. Maybe next year we'll put up the village and skip the tree....

Sticking to My Plans

Tonight I am exceedingly frustrated. I had decided that I needed to focus on what I need to get done, and trust Dad's care to the medical people where he is. He moved to a nursing home for rehab yesterday, and I had been trying to call him all day, as had my siblings. Sister went to visit him after work, and he was sitting there holding his new cell phone, totally unaware of the fact that he had 11 missed calls. He couldn't hear the ring tone. So Sister changed the ring tone for him.

When he left the hospital, they said he was still dehydrated, and so they didn't start him back on a diuretic. Yet in the week 8 days since he went into the hospital, he has gained 26 lbs. Somehow, I don't think he's dehydrated any more. I do think he is in congestive heart failure again. Sister is trying to figure out who she can get to address our concern. I'm so frustrated by their inability to find the balance that keeps his heart and kidneys working effectively. I'm also frustrated by their dismissal of our concerns.

Tonight it is very hard to stay down here and trust that they will address our concerns. Tonight, I want to go up there and shake the medical people and tell them to pay attention. Sister and Brother will deal with it. I trust them. I'm also very frustrated by the fact that this is an ongoing issue that never seems to be resolved. We've already changed doctors once (he had over 60 lbs of excess fluid on him and they were still insisting there wasn't a problem). At this point, it's probably only 15 lbs, but it needs to be addressed now, before it kills him.

But now I need to put that aside and focus on the Christmas decorating that needs to get done tonight. I have a young couple coming over tomorrow night for premarital counseling, so I need to have the living room put back together by then. I will stick to my plans, but it won't be easy.

Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder about my sanity. I mean, what person in her right mind would volunteer for additional responsibilities during her busiest month of the year? This afternoon we had Daughter's planning meeting for next year at the workshop. Why did I allow it to be scheduled at the beginning of December? Why did I allow my secretary to have a detached retina? Why did I volunteer to do lots of cooking for the youth group's Thanksgiving Dinner? Why did I volunteer to bake cookies for the senior luncheon tomorrow? Why did I volunteer to make chili for youth group Sunday night? Why did I volunteer to do the Open House again?

Daughter's planning went fine. I asked that they assign her tasks when there isn't work to do. She doesn't do well with unstructured time, and during "down time" the clients are generally left to entertain themselves. Doesn't work well for Daughter. They were also describing some of the mood swings she was having before we added the new med, and I asked them to please tell me when they were seeing things like that so I could get them addressed. She's 90th on the waiting list for supported living. By the time her number comes up, we'll be living elsewhere, I'm sure.

This evening I baked cookies. I spent a couple of hours on my feet while baking and cleaning up, and now my back is sore. I have so much I need to get done this week. I'm going to minimize my time at the senior luncheon tomorrow. Secretary will be back on Thursday, and I also have a volunteer coming in to help with the back up of work in the office. Now I'm going to go hide the cookies (Daughter didn't find them when I hid them under a table in the living room. I know that won't stay a safe place very long, but I'll take advantage of it while I can.)

Somehow I'll manage to get done what needs to be done. I always do. Dad was moved to a nursing home for rehab today. Hopefully it will be a short stay. Now I'm going to bed. I need a good night's sleep.

Moving Forward

Yesterday I was exhausted most of the day. I'd been up late trying to fix Daughter's ipod (unsuccessfully) and finishing my sermon (successfully). The holiday with my family and dealing with my parents' needs had taken a toll on me. Daughter had an appointment with her diabetes doctor today, so I asked her for her meter so I could download her blood sugars. She said, "I need to tell you something." She had shaved 100 points off her morning blood sugar. Her blood sugar had been high because sometime during the night she'd eaten a whole bag of chocolate covered pecans that someone had given me for Christmas.

It was not a good way to start the day. I spent some time gathering the information for the doctor and then picked her up for her appointment. She apologized, and was obviously not very happy. The appointment was fine-- some more adjustments in her insulin, and we go back in 3 months. She needs lab work before the next appointment.

On the way home, she started sobbing. We talked about her fears for Granddad, and her fears for her own health. A major part of Dad's health problems is years of uncontrolled diabetes. I explained why her situation is different, and the improvements in diabetes care that will allow her to better manage her diabetes.

By the time we got home, she had decided to turn things around, and came in and got busy on her chores. I was pleased. She's watching TV right now, and then is going to help me in the kitchen. I want to bake some cookies tonight. I'll be locking them in the car so they won't tempt her. We also need to get some decorations on the tree.

Dad will be discharged to a nursing home, probably tomorrow. He got more blood overnight. They still don't know if he's losing blood someplace or not. Across the country Sister has gotten the hospital to issue a refund on his overpayment. There is nothing more I can do for them right now, other than call and chat daily.

It's time to move forward. It's time to leave behind the worries about my parents and the stress of their needs and focus on what I need to do here. I certainly have more than enough stress right here. I still don't know if I will have a secretary this week. Hopefully she will have recovered from the surgery for her detached retina and be back on Thursday. I have two worship services to plan for Sunday, and we have our senior luncheon on Wednesday (which is why I'm baking cookies tonight).

I'm glad that Daughter is moving forward, and will hopefully stay out of extra food now. She'd gained 8 pounds in the past month. I know she's a stress eater, and one of her new meds can increase appetite as well, but she still needs to do a better job of controlling her food.

Slipping

Dad does his banking online, and he asked me to go online today to pay a bill that had come in since he's been in the hospital. This is something I often do for him when I'm there, so that didn't surprise or bother me. I got online, and began looking for the appropriate payee, and came across a payment he'd made to an unfamiliar hospital for $12,000. I was fairly confident that I would have known about any hospital services that cost him $12,000 out of pocket, so I began searching for the bill. I found it. It was for blood work for Mom. The bill had been for $120.00. Apparently he forgot to put in the decimal point. He'd paid it a month ago. He hadn't noticed his mistake, even though his checking account had shrunk by $12,000.

I called Brother, who has power of attorney and told him he'd need to get on it. I also mentioned it to Sister. I soon had a call from across the country Sister. She said she'd call and take care of it, and asked for the details. As I went looking for the details, I discovered that he hadn't put the right account number down when he set up the payee information. The hospital received a check from a bill paying service for $12,000 and probably have no idea what account they should credit it to. I told Dad what had happened, and that we were taking care of it. He laughed.

The rest of us were disturbed. If I hadn't gone into pay that bill, and noticed the out of the ordinary payment, I don't know how long it would have taken for it to be discovered, or even if it would have been discovered. How long before one of us has to take over his finances? At what point do we step in and take away his autonomy?

I hope that a new pastoral position will come through for me, and I will be able to move closer to my parents. I hope I will be able to step in and do more for them. I also hope we can keep them safe without taking away their autonomy and independence unnecessarily.

For now, I'm glad to be home. For now, I need to focus on my responsibilities here, especially with regard to worship tomorrow morning.

Cleaning

This evening Daughter and I tackled Dad's apartment. We changed the sheets on his bed (which I think were the same sheets we put on last time we were here), did 4 loads of laundry, scoured the bathroom, and are still working on the kitchen. There is a skillet that I have set to soak yet again. I'm not sure how he could have burned something that completely. The odor is almost gone, and hopefully the little fruit flies will vanish now that we've eliminated the dirty dishes. We are going to have to bring out industrial strength cleaner to get the kitchen floor clean.

I pretty much told him that he had to go to rehab, and that he's going to have to pay for additional help once he gets back to the apartment. I pointed out additional help is much cheaper than assisted living. He couldn't argue that. Today he was agreeable, but who knows what will happen when it comes time for discharge. His kidneys are doing better, but he needs to continue with a specialist when he's out of the hospital. His infected elbow is doing better, but still painful. He sat up in a chair for about 5 hours today, but still hasn't done any walking. I'm hoping they ordered a PT/OT evaluation. We asked for one, but his primary care physician wasn't in until this evening, and we'd all left by then.

I got Mom over to see him again. She wasn't as excited today. Now that the initial relief that he's not dead or dying is over, I think she's worried. She cried when I left her at the nursing home. Daughter is hanging in with me, though this is hard on her. Her blood sugars were high today, and she slept much of the afternoon. She worked like a trooper, though, when I said it was time to clean.

I called Dad's sister today. She didn't know about any of his hospitalizations this year. Brother was supposed to be keeping that side of the family informed, I was dealing with the other side. She was widowed this past year, and hasn't been up to keeping in touch any more than Dad has. She's five years older than he is, and there are just the two of them left. She's also buried her son, though she still has a daughter alive.

I guess that I am very much aware of aging right now. One generation is passing away, and mine is having to step up and take over. I'm feeling the burden tonight. I'm recognizing that I no longer have a parent to look to for support and guidance. I recognize that I'm now the care giver, and that I'm the one my Daughter, my siblings, and my parents are looking to for decisions. I know they all want me closer to them, so I can carry more of the load. I'm not sure I want to live closer. We have a sister who lives across the country from us. She doesn't get as involved in the day to day stuff. There are times I envy her. I suspect though, that whatever the distance is, this is going to continue to be a challenging time. I also know that it would be much harder on me if I couldn't be here and be involved. I hope I get a new position that will move me close enough to do more, but recognize that I will need to set clear boundaries. I can do more, but I can't do everything.

Thanksgiving

We left before 8:00 this morning to spend Thanksgiving with family. We stopped at the hospital to see Dad, who was admitted Monday. His kidneys are doing better, but he has an infection in his elbow. They will probably drain the fluid off tomorrow. He's in a lot of pain from it, and is on IV antibiotics and morphine for pain. He is very weak, and I don't see how he can come home alone. I think he'll need rehab when he is discharged. I talked to him about it some, and told him he needed to be in better shape. I pointed out he had fallen twice in the week before he went into the hospital. He told me he hadn't fallen, he'd slid. I told him that it didn't much matter, as he'd ended up on the floor and couldn't get up. Part of the service in his senior apartment is a call button he wears around his neck for emergencies. He had to use it both times. Before he went in, he wasn't feeling good, so he hadn't been visiting Mom. He didn't want Mom to see him in the hospital, as he didn't want to upset her.

We went from the hospital to Sister's. Brother had already picked up Mom from the nursing home. She was very weepy. It was obvious she missed Dad and didn't know what was going on. She has lost most of her verbal ability. It was a challenging day, as we had to watch her closely. At one point Daughter pulled me off into another room to talk. She was in tears about Grandad not being present. She was also upset about Grandma's decline. As I was trying to calm her down, Mom went wandering through. I called Sister out of the kitchen to see to Mom, who needs assistance in the bathroom.

When we sat at the table to eat, Mom began weeping. Niece, who just turned 4, sat in her lap to comfort her. I made the decision that we were taking Mom to the hospital to see Dad. I had warned him I might do this, so I called and told him we were coming. Mom was sobbing in the car, even as I kept assuring her we were going to see Dad. I told her he was fine, he just had a sore elbow. As we got close to the hospital, she got excited. I was surprised, because they didn't begin using this hospital until after she developed dementia. It was also dark, yet she recognized that we were getting close, and began pointing to the hospital.

When we got up to the room and she saw him, she was so excited, she was jumping up and down with joy. She tried to climb in bed with him. She was humming happy tunes as we took her back to the nursing home. Dad was happy, too.

We dropped her off, and came into Dad's apartment. I've never seen it this filthy. We have our work cut out for us. I promised to go to the hospital tomorrow morning to cover the doctors, but I think Daughter and I will spend the rest of the day cleaning. But tonight, we're relaxing. We'll need to be well rested to face the challenges ahead.

Happy Thanksgiving!

We had a Thanksgiving Eve service tonight, and then Daughter and I came home and made some food to take to my Sister's tomorrow. We'll need to be out of here by 8:00 tomorrow morning, because we need to stop at the hospital to see Dad. He may be in the hospital until Monday or longer, and he's probably going to need rehab. He's very weak right now. He got two units of blood, but his hemoglobin is still low. They have all sorts of doctors in consulting right now. After we visit Dad, we'll pick up Mom at the nursing home and go to Sister's for Thanksgiving.

We'll stay in Dad's apartment, hang out at the hospital, and come home sometime Saturday. This year I have much for which to give thanks as we gather tomorrow.

I'm thankful for Daughter.

I'm thankful for Psychiatrist, who is working to find the right combination of meds for Daughter. Tonight I was able to correct her without her going into a rage. This is major progress.

I'm thankful for all the advances in diabetes care. It wasn't that long ago that she would have died 8 years ago when she was first diagnosed.

I'm thankful for the sheltered workshop, that gives her structure and helps her learn job skills.

I'm thankful for Therapist and the coping skills she teaches Daughter and the support she gives me.

I'm thankful for the congregation I serve, and the opportunities I have to provide ministry in a variety of ways.

I'm thankful that Dad is under the care of specialists, and that he still has his mind.

I'm thankful that Mom still recognizes me, even if she can't talk to me. She still gives great hugs.

I'm thankful that Brother and Sister live close to our parents and are so willing to go above and beyond in providing for their needs, big and small.

I'm thankful that I live close enough that I can get there when I have to, and that my family understands that there are certain times of the year when I can't get there.

I'm thankful for new opportunities for ministry and the excitement of the search for a new position and all the opportunities that come with it.

I'm thankful for Cat and Kitten, who are usually willing to cuddle and are great foot warmers on cold nights.

I'm thankful for friends old and new.

I give thanks to God for giving me all these blessings and many more.

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving with good food, good fellowship, and an appreciation for your blessings.

Dealing with Stress

Daughter does not handle stress well. Yesterday she came home concerned about Grandad. I assured her he would be fine, but she was still concerned. She told me she needed to go for a walk to help with her stress. I was puzzled when she went out the backdoor. I looked out the window and couldn't see her. In a flash of insight, I went and checked the key board. Sure enough, the church keys were missing. I called the church phone on our home phone and her cell phone on my cell phone and told her to get home now. I knew she'd gone over there in search of food. We'll never be able to stop the lows as long as she's sneaking extra food.

Knowing she'd been caught, she felt guilty and flew into a rage. She slammed doors, threw things, and was generally ugly. Basically, she was mad at herself. She told me I should leave her home alone when I go to spend Thanksgiving with family. I asked her what happened to the list she came up with with Therapist. She didn't know where it was, but she remember what was on it and she'd tried them all. I had her recite some of the things that were on it: playing piano, singing, listening to music, dancing. I pointed out to her that I'd know if she'd done any of those things, and she hadn't.

There are times when I am exhausted by dealing with her. I was concerned about Dad, too. His hospitalizations are coming closer together, and it's frustrating to be so far away. Her acting out on her stress multiplies my stress. I end up exhausted. By bedtime she'd listened to some music and turned it around and done some of her chores. When I think of moving and having to get her through all the stresses that will come with getting her in with new doctors and into a new program in addition to the stresses that come with starting any new job, it's enough to make me want to curl up in a corner in a fetal position.... When the call to a new position comes, I will also be given the patience and strength to guide her through it.

Today I had to go pick her up from the workshop. Her blood sugar dropped right after lunch, and didn't come up until after she finished supper (with no insulin). She's not going to the workshop tomorrow. I don't have time to pick her up tomorrow if she has another low. I still have to write two sermons, get Sunday's bulletin printed, write a bunch of notes, and get the notices out about our next senior luncheon.... It will get done.

In Praise of Winter Wheat

It is a gray, dreary day here. It's a little too warm for snow, so we are getting rain/mist. It's one of those days when the wiper speed is never set right. This morning I spent time with two women in their 90's. I drove one to the City to visit her daughter, who has terminal cancer. While she was visiting her daughter, I went to see Broken Neck. Broken Neck was really dragging today. She wanted to visit, and was very sharp mentally, but she kept falling asleep. She'd already exercised and cleaned up, and was worn out.

We drove home through dreary farm fields. Some were black. The farmers had completed the harvest and worked manure or lime into the ground. Some were full of brown stubble. All looked dead. It was a dreary, depressing day. Our moods seemed to match the dreary day.

Daughter had called me on my cell phone in tears, worried that Grandad didn't feel good and was headed to the hospital. I have wondered if he will survive another year, and whether we will be able to convince him to give up his apartment.

My passenger was facing the death of her daughter, and I was worried that Broken Neck will not recover sufficiently to live alone again (she is 92). But then, as we were driving along, we'd come across a field of winter wheat. In the midst of the black soil, brown stubble, and gray day, there would be a field of bright green. There would be a field of winter wheat, defiantly growing as everything else is dying. Those fields of winter wheat always lift my spirits. They remind me that in the midst of death, there is always life. They remind me that after the winter comes the spring. They remind me that there is always hope.

I was tempted to come home and curl up in a ball and fall asleep. After all, it is my day off. But I didn't. I came home and separated the meat from the bones and skin in my turkey stock, and chopped up vegetables, and there is now a huge pot of turkey rice soup simmering on my stove. I'm making a mental list of people who would benefit from some homemade soup. I'm sure I'm not the only one who needs some hope on a dreary day. I'll remember the winter wheat, and I'll take them some turkey rice soup.

The Dinner

Today was the day of the Thanksgiving Dinner the youth group did for our senior citizens. I'm proud of our kids. They did a wonderful job of waiting on their guests. The parents were wonderfully supportive. From the noise level and the length of time people hung around, I'd say a good time was had by all. One of the kids came up and said, "People want to know if we are going to do this next year." I suggested he wait a few days before he asked me that question.

At our next youth gathering, we will evaluate what we did and begin to make plans for next year. Overall, it went well. The serving took a bit longer than we would have liked, but that was okay. We had enough food. I have the bones from two turkeys simmering in a huge stock pot on my stove right now. I stayed out of the clean up, and had time to visit with various people.

Daughter did well, especially considering she chose today to start having lows again. Her blood sugar was 33 a little before noon. I started feeding her massive quantities of food, but her blood sugar has stayed low to normal for the rest of the day. It did get her out of running back and forth between the church and the house.

The hot water heater at the church gave out mid-afternoon. The initial fix was unsuccessful, so we started heating water on the stove for dishes. A second attempt got it fixed in time to do the dishes. Our teens did an excellent job today, and I was very proud of them. Our guests had them come out of the kitchen for a round of applause. Our guests were very impressed, and thrilled to have been invited.

When I got home, Dad had tried to call twice, and had even left a message. Dad doesn't call. Dad doesn't leave messages. He wanted to know how the dinner had gone, and couldn't remember what time we were having it. He has always loved to cook, and for years was the chef at his church. Brother and I have both carried on the tradition, and he loves it when we call and ask for advice, so of course I did. He wanted to know all the details of the meal. Dad will probably be going into the hospital tomorrow. He was at the doctor Friday, and he's dehydrated again from too many diuretics, and his hemoglobin is low, so they'll probably have to give him blood again. He's feeling pretty lousy, and said today he would have gladly gone to the hospital. Brother takes him back to the hospital tomorrow, and then we'll know more.

After I talked to Dad, I got a call from V, a 93 year old woman in the church. She had the stomach flu overnight, so she didn't come to the dinner. She had just gotten a call from her son-in-law. Her daughter is dying. When her daughter was diagnosed over 6 years ago, she wasn't expected to live 6 months. She's gone through numerous rounds of chemo, and she's done well. Now, the cancer is winning. V has buried most of her siblings and her husband in the time I've been here. Her one remaining sister (and she came from a large family) has early Alzheimer's. V has a strong faith, and will get through this, but it's going to be hard. We aren't supposed to bury our children, even when our children our senior citizens themselves. I drove over and spent a few minutes with V, offering Scripture and prayer. I volunteered to take her to the hospital tomorrow, if that would help. I told her I could go visit Broken Neck while she sees her daughter.

We were joking at one of the tables about how I only work one hour a week on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, there are people who really do think that is the case. One of the saints is coming in Wednesday to help out in the office. Secretary is out of commission for at least another week.

The Game and the Dinner

Tomorrow is the day the youth group is doing a Thanksgiving dinner with our senior citizens. When we started this, we figured on maybe 35 people showing up. We are now expecting about 45. My co-advisor is out of commission after surgery for a detached retina. This morning I will be making massive amounts of cranberry relish and stuffing. Tomorrow I will do 2 turkeys. Fortunately, there are 2 ovens at the church, so I will do the cooking over there.

The most challenging part is that a few of the mothers have stepped in and seem to want to change some of the plans the kids made. The kids want the meal served family style around tables put together to make a big square. The mothers consider that stupid, and think the food should be served out of the kitchen. I intend to make sure the kids wishes are followed. It wasn't what I suggested to them, but they were adamant that this is what they wanted to do. I think we need to honor their plans.

I'm proud of my youth group this year. For the first time, they are coming in with ideas and suggestions, and many of them are very good ones. For years, it was like pulling teeth to get any ideas out of the group. This group has known me since before they started school, and are very comfortable with me, which is bad and good. They participate well, but they have no fear of me. There are times when it is useful when working with a bunch of teenagers to have them a little bit afraid....

This afternoon is The Game. The entire college football seasons builds towards this game, and I happen to root for the other team. I catch flack about it all year, but especially this weekend. What they don't know is that my interest in college sports has grown tremendously just so I can talk intelligently about The Rivalry. I am not optimistic about my team's chances this year, but it will still be fun to watch the game and listen to everyone harass me tomorrow. Daughter and I will eat junk food as we watch the game, which makes it one of her favorite days of the year.

Hopefully it will be a fun day, and Daughter will find it comforting to work with me in the kitchen and watch The Game with me. She finally has come back to rooting for my team, which is good. I know one family where one kid shares my love for the other team. He is banished from the rest of the family today and will watch the game alone-- though I suspect when our team scores, he will make sure to point it out.

Fear + Guilt = Anger + Eating

Yesterday morning I took Daughter to see Therapist. Daughter wanted me to go in with her and stay. She acknowledged that she had "forgotten" her appointment with Therapist on Monday because she was afraid to talk about the things she needed to talk about. She deals with fear and anxiety with anger and eating. The eating then leads to guilt, and she deals with guilt by getting angry and lashing out at me, which leads to more guilt, and she's then stuck in a downward spiral. Therapist helped her come up with a list of others ways she could handle her fear and guilt. Daughter was very happy.

She called me a little after lunch, telling me she was tired and didn't feel good, and she really needed to be picked up. Even knowing she'd have to sit in hospital waiting rooms while I made visits and wouldn't be able to watch TV, she still wanted me to come get her, so I did. I went to visit the widower of the woman who committed suicide. He is much less confused after the surgery, and expects to be discharged from rehab soon. I sat and talked to him while he cried. I brought him tissues and when he didn't have a waste basket by him, I took the used ones to throw away. He protested that I shouldn't have to deal with his snot. I assured him it was okay. We had a good conversation, and I was impressed with all he remembered. It is so tragic-- if his wife had held on a little longer this ordeal might have been behind them.

I drove to the other hospital in City to visit Broken Neck. She is improving, and can now recognize her improvement. We had a pleasant, though brief, visit. They are working her hard in therapy, so she was tired. Daughter got home and was frustrated, as she desperately wanted something to eat but was remembering our conversation about the dangers of her sneaking food and lying about it. I finally convinced her to have some sugar free hot chocolate as a snack while she waited for supper.

After supper we did some more cleaning and decluttering in the kitchen, and then we played a game together. I don't remember the last time we played a game together. It was good for both of us. This morning when she woke up she had the best blood sugar she's had in quite some time. She was so excited. I was pleased, too. I asked, "Am I to assume, then, that those high numbers you've been having in the mornings are a direct result of what you've been eating?" She admitted that they were. I hope that she will remember and follow the list she and Therapist developed at least for a while. It would certainly be nice to have her cooperate long enough to get her insulin needs figured out.

I am resigned to the reality that while she will hopefully be cooperative for a while, eventually she will forget this lesson and once again get caught in the downward spiral of fear and guilt leading to anger and eating. For now, though, I will enjoy the break.

Basketball

Special Olympics basketball practice starts tonight. This is a rotten time of the year for me to be transporting Daughter to practice every Wednesday evening. The practice runs from 4:30 to 6:00, which is a terrible time for us. She gets off the bus at 4:00 and it takes us 15 minutes to get to Town for practice. We normally eat around 5:30, so it's right in the middle of the supper hour. She doesn't have time to eat supper and change and get ready for practice. There isn't anyplace to drive through for a sandwich on the way to practice, and I really don't want the rush of having her eat something from home in the car, because she would feel stressed and get all worked up, resulting in tics, high blood sugar, and who knows what else.

We had a terrible time managing her blood sugars last year during basketball, and she finally dropped out because of it (with blessings and a huge sense of relief from me). Her blood sugars would go way high during the games and practices (adrenaline) and then crash later. There were times she'd come over to me at the sidelines and she was shaking so much she couldn't check her own blood sugar. This year her blood sugars aren't stable going into it, so I can't imagine what impact the stress/exercise will have on them. On the other hand, the activity and socialization are good for her. I don't want to give her the message there are things she can't do because of her diabetes.

So I find myself torn. The first practice is tonight, and I still haven't made a final decision on what to do. I haven't made the time to really sit down and talk to her about it, and there probably won't be time to do it this evening. So I'll take her to practice, we'll see what happens with her blood sugar and how she feels, and then make our decisions about her ongoing participation.

Good News and Bad News in the Office

The good news is that Secretary and I had a very productive morning. It was one of those rare days when no one dropped by the office, so we were able to work undisturbed. We mailed out about 40 letters and notes today, the majority of them were from 2 different mail merges, but over 12 were hand written notes. We also got work done on the newsletter and the bulletin.

Secretary was having obvious problems with her vision, and said that it had gotten really bad lately. After watching her try to read things, I told her she needed to get to a doctor right away. Instead of arguing, she got into the optometrist this afternoon. She then called to inform me that she was on her way to Very Big City for emergency surgery for a detached retina. I called and started the prayer chain for her. She didn't think prayers were necessary, but I did. I'm not sure what her recovery will be like, but I'm certainly glad we accomplished as much as we did today.

I suspect that I'll be dealing with printing the bulletin and newsletter on my own on Thursday, and I don't know if she'll be ready to help out with the youth Thanksgiving Dinner on Sunday. I came home this afternoon and finished writing newsletter articles. As always, spacing was a challenge, but I think I got everything in and the newsletter is ready to be printed. I hope no one else decides they want to give me another article or thank you....

One of the saints has already called and offered to make the items Secretary was going to make for the dinner Sunday. Now if I could just convince someone to come help me fold, staple, label, sort, etc. on Thursday.

A Great Way to Start the Day....

Being the suspicious, nosy, meddling Mom that I am, I wasn't convinced Daughter had really made a PB&J sandwich for her lunch today, as I had instructed. I wasn't sure she'd done it yesterday, either. So I asked if I would find the 1/8th cup measuring cup (for the peanut butter) and the measuring spoon (for the jam) in the dishwasher. She told me she hadn't used them, she'd just spread the stuff without measuring. I was not happy. Every carb and calorie she eats is carefully measured and balanced to come to 60 grams of carb for lunch. I asked to see the sandwich before she went out the door. She told me I didn't need to, of course, which just made me even more suspicious, nosy, and meddling. She had placed two pieces of bread in a sandwich bag. Have you ever seen a suspicious, nosy, meddling Mom explode? It's not a pretty sight.

By now the bus was due, so I rushed into the kitchen and started measuring peanut butter, while I demanded she find me a tablespoon and the low-sugar strawberry jam. She did, and the jam, which had been used only a few times, was almost empty. There wasn't even a full tablespoon left. I was not patient and loving. I asked her if I was the only one who cared about her health and well-being. I told her I was sick of her lying to me all the time, and I didn't know how she expected me to trust her when she pulled things like this. She stormed out of the door and onto the bus muttering about not wanting to live.

She keeps insisting that now that she's 21 she can handle everything herself and doesn't need me. She gets furious at me for "holding her back." Then she pulls stuff like this, and can't figure out why I don't trust her. I get so tired of following behind her to make sure she's telling me the truth. She gets very resentful when I check out things she tells me. I keep pointing out that if she were responsible and honest, I wouldn't need to do these things. I might as well be talking to a brick wall.

I suspect she'll call me at some point today. I recognized the tics as a lie Friday, and I didn't buy the exploding internal organ yesterday, so it will be interesting to see what the ailment of the day is.

My Day Off

I started the day searching for my cell phone-- unsuccessfully. It's a blackberry pearl, so it also is my brain, and I feel lost without it. I was late for my 9:00 appointment with our therapist, but then, so was our therapist. We were both relieved to be pulling in at the same time. She is a friend of the daughter of the woman who committed suicide. She offered reassurance. She told me it was a very atypical suicide, and there were no warning signs. No one could have prevented it. She also suggested Daughter's latest rage was a result of her guilt triggered by the suicide, since she had seen the pain suicide had caused, and she has been suicidal many times. Guilt has become a powerful trigger for her rages.

Since I didn't have my cell phone, I had to borrow their phone to call the man I had promised to take back to the hospital. I had to borrow their phone book to find his number, which was in my address book in my missing cell phone. When I finished the call, Therapist told me one of her messages was Daughter reminding her of their 11:00 appointment.

So I picked up B and we headed off to the hospital. Dislocated Shoulder was miserable. She was in pain, and foggy from medication. They hadn't given her any of her meds, or checked her blood sugar, which was 255 when they checked it in the ER. Dislocated Shoulder is a retired nurse, but was too miserable to be assertive for herself. Her husband has always relied on her and their two nurse daughters. So I called the desk and said we had some question about her meds. I was told her nurse was with another patient and would be in soon. By the time she came in, she had a glucose meter with her, and said she had gotten her meds ordered. She didn't tell us what her blood sugar was, just "high." I left when occupational therapy came in and promised to return after I visited Broken Neck.

As I walked over to the other side of the large hospital, I ran into a woman who comes to the monthly senior luncheons we have. She asked if I was there to see her husband, who had had 4 bypasses. I told her I didn't know he was there but I'd stopped by. I got up to the room number they'd given me for Broken Neck, and there was a stranger in the room. So, I went back down to the desk and informed them they must have two patients with the same name. She checked her computer, and sure enough, found Broken Neck back on the same floor as Dislocated Shoulder. I went to visit Quadruple Bypass, then check in on Broken Neck, who wanted me to stay and chat. I promised to be back Wednesday with more time to visit. I returned to Dislocated Shoulder, who was now eating lunch, but still hadn't had any meds or insulin. I went out to the nurses' desk, where her nurse assured me she had a sliding scale and insulin was on the way for her. I went back to say farewell to Dislocated Shoulder, and promised to call her daughter when I got home. I drove through to get lunch, and found my cell phone on the way home, when it started ringing from the floor of the back seat. Of course I couldn't reach it. When I got home, I found Daughter had been calling. I called her, and she informed me that one of her internal organs had exploded at lunch time. I asked a few questions, then told her I'd see her at 2:30 when I picked her up to go see Psychiatrist.

So, I walked in the house and got on the phone. Long conversations followed with Dislocated Shoulder's daughter the nurse and my secretary. By then it was time go get Daughter.

I picked Daughter up and asked her how her appointment with Therapist had gone. She informed me she had forgotten about it, and had missed it because she was on an outing with one of the supervisors. I was furious. I told her not to lie to me, as I knew for a fact that she had called Therapist to remind her of the appointment. I told her she had lost the privilege of setting her own appointments and having Therapist come to her. I used my cell phone to call Therapist, as it turned out, she had missed the appointment because an emergency had come up, so they had been confused by Daughter's apologetic call to reschedule her appointment. I'll take Daughter to see Therapist at 8:00 Thursday morning.

Daughter was in quite the mood when we got to Psychiatrist. She wouldn't talk to her. There was some minor tweaking of her meds.

We came home and I got on the phone again. I called the woman whose step-daughter was life flighted to Big City yesterday after a heart attack. We had a long conversation. I had a long conversation with a good friend of the woman who committed suicide. She was feeling like she could have prevented the death. I assured her she couldn't have stopped it, and told her I totally understood why she was questioning herself. I also told her I had checked out a rumor she had shared with me on Sunday with the daughter, and it was false.

I also cooked dinner, chopped up and fried a bunch of bacon (for bacon bits to use in salads and cooking). I finished the sausage balls that were interrupted last night. I talked to a woman who was going to a judicatory meeting with me tomorrow. I had decided I couldn't take the time to spend 4 hours on the road and 6 hours at a meeting tomorrow. There were other assorted calls, as well. The husband of Dislocated Shoulder told me she would be discharged tomorrow, and their daughter was going to come and take them to their new home in an apartment connected to her house. Tomorrow was the day they had planned to move, so I'm glad they're going to be able to make it work.

I figure I ended up putting in over 6 hours of work on my day off. One of my conversations was with a church officer who couldn't figure out how people could possibly think that they could get by with a part-time minister. I told her that I thought I had taken the church as far as I could, and it was time for new leadership and a fresh perspective. Granted, this has been an unusually busy couple of weeks, and the holiday season is always chaotic, but I don't think they have any concept of what I do or the time it takes. I'm going to keep track of the hours I put in over the course of a typical week, and how it's spent. I suspect it will be an eye-opening for them.

The Preacher's Kid

This evening Daughter and I were working in the kitchen. She was cleaning out the refrigerator, and I was up to my elbows in sausage, cheese, and bisquick as I made sausage balls for our upcoming open house.

My phone rang, and one of the saints informed me he was in the City emergency room with his wife. She had fallen and dislocated her shoulder. She told him to call me and tell me what was going on and tell me I didn't have to come. I was weighing the meaning of "you don't have to come." She didn't say "don't come." She said "don't have to come." Daughter heard the conversation and announced, "We're going."

So we went. I left her in the ER waiting room. I found the poor woman sedated and in pain. Two attempts to put her shoulder back in its socket had failed, and they were going to take her to the OR for a third attempt. She ordered me to make sure her husband ate. He informed me their former son-in-law, an M.D., had run out to get him something to eat. We all went up on the same elevator to pre-op, I had a prayer with her, and closed by praying that her daughters would forgive her, which got a chuckle. This couple has been moving to their daughter's where they have an in-law apartment since September. Things keep coming up to delay the move.

When we got to the waiting room, I called Daughter on her cell and told her to come up to the OR waiting room. This is a huge hospital, but Daughter knew exactly how to get to us. I think I drag her to the hospital too often. After the shoulder was back in place, the woman's daughter called. She talked to all of us. She told me she wasn't comfortable with her father driving home after dark. I told her I had wondered, but couldn't make that call. She said she'd be the bad guy, and I promised to follow through on her wishes. So, I informed the man I would be driving him home, and would take him back to the hospital at 10:30 tomorrow morning. He grinned, but didn't argue. I told him that us daughters of aging parents have to stick together. He thought that was amusing.

Daughter was wonderful and very patient. When we got home, I was getting ready to wrap her hair when the phone rang. It was the daughter of the suicide. She wanted to thank me for the book I had sent her, Good Grief. It had been very helpful, and she'd gone to the bookstore and bought out their supply so she could distribute them to others. She also explained that her father had wanted to have the other minister do the funeral because he had known them so long and in the happy days, when they were doing things together as a couple. I had finally decided that was the most logical explanation as to why they bypassed me. Daughter waited patiently through our conversation. When I got off the phone, I apologized to Daughter, who simply said, "It's okay, Mom, that's your job, and you do it well."

She's a wonderful Preacher's Kid, who always comes through when these things come up. Tonight I was very proud of her.

The Funeral

Daughter and I went to the funeral of the woman who committed suicide today. The funeral home was packed. I don't know what instructions the family gave my colleague. Maybe they didn't want him to address what had happened. I know I came away frustrated. He didn't address the pain. He talked about God's love and grace and our need for salvation. He talked about how God always answers our prayers.

I sat there arguing with his words in my mind. N was a woman of faith. She lived a life immersed in prayer and Scripture. If God always answers our prayers, why was she dead? Why hadn't God brought healing for her husband? Why hadn't God given her the strength to keep going? As he read Scripture and quoted hymns, what had happened made them all seem like empty words with no connection with the reality of N's life and death. At the beginning, he said that if N had been here today, he knew she'd be smiling. If she would have been smiling, why did she write a note, pull her car into the garage, and close the door?

An occupational hazard of being a minister is that when I sit in a service led by someone else, I often find myself considering how I would have handled the situation. I would have used the story of Lazarus, in which both Mary and Martha greet Jesus following their brother's death with the words, "If you had been here...." When Jesus sees their grief, he weeps, even though he knows that in a few minutes he will raise Lazarus from the dead. I would have talked about how after a death we often find ourselves thinking of the "If only's." If only I had told her this. If only I hadn't said this. If only.... I would have talked about how God shares our sorrow and grief.

I would have assured them of God's love for N and for each of them. I would have told them that N loved them, and how there was no way they could have known or stopped this. I would have told them that if she had been in her right mind or had stopped to think of the pain this would cause them, she wouldn't have done it. I would have assured them that it is okay to be angry, and that God can handle our anger. I would have reminded them that in Romans, Paul assures us that nothing can separate us from the love of God.

I hope the family found some comfort in the service. I hope I was just being overly critical because I resented not being asked to do the funeral. I ran into another colleague after the service, and I said, "I wish he'd addressed the pain." She said, "Yes, because it has to be addressed." Maybe both of us were just being overly critical, and he did give the family and friends exactly what they needed. I hope so. I know I will continue to pray for them.