Me As I Really Am

I am fairly confident that none of my grammar teachers from high school or college would be thrilled with the title of this blog post, but it states the problem and the solution to my current dilemma so nicely that…eh, whatever.

I am sixty-four years old.  Not ancient by today’s standards, but certainly not young either.  If there is a robbery and the home’s occupant is a sixty-four year old person, the news reporters will refer to that person as “elderly.”

Elderly means lots of different things, I suppose.  There are sixty-four year olds running marathons.  There are sixty-four year olds climbing mountains, biking, hiking, all of those wonderful physical achievements that at one time were only associated with much younger folk.  I, sadly, am not that “youngish in the sixties” kind of gal.

Almost ten years ago, I took a nasty tumble and did a real number on my back.  It happens.  You fall, and when you get back up, things in your life take a turn,  I still manage most things, but I can no longer pretend that there are marathons and mountain climbing in my future.  I wish there were those adventures ahead for me, but, probably not. Truth be told, the grocery store can be a marathon for me on some days.

The deal is…ugh, gasp, choke…that I am actually considering getting a cane.  Sigh. How can that even be? Forget the whole “aging gracefully” thing, this is hard.  I once told my beautiful daughter that I did not want to be defined by my stupid, rotten, no good, very bad back.  Won’t using the can just solidify my being a “not cool in her sixties loser?”

I am a “boomer” and we naively thought that we were never going to age, dumb, dumb, dumb. We foolishly thought that by the sheer force of our will that we could stave off the ravages of aging.  Again, dumb. Good Lord, I still wear my hair long, and dress in jeans about 95% of the time. How did I become an “elderly” woman?

So, at some point soon, my sweet man and I are going to go “cane shopping.”  Just try that in a sentence about yourself.  Ugh. Just thinking this cane better be gorgeous, have to go well with my jeans, right?

Advertisements

Give Us Strength for the “In-Between”

Lord we thank you for the your daily blessings, we are overwhelmed by your mercy and grace, but we still get lost here some days, in the “in-between.”  We know you have led us here to this very day, this very moment, this very path, these very people, and yet we still feel lost sometimes.  It isn’t that we doubt you, it isn’t that we cannot look ahead, it is just that we are feeling uncertain in our steps, afraid of stumbling and losing our way.

Take away our doubts and fears, give us strength for the journey.  Refill us with your assurance that we are headed in the right direction.  Fill us with your strength, guide our feet, guard our hearts, and lead us always toward you.  Amen.

Clueless

It has been a difficult time for us. The accident and death of one parent and now the illness and hospitalization of two more. There are no books that teach how to cope with this, no classes on protecting the lives of your elderly parents, no celebrity infomercials on how to be in this awful, exhausting place and not become a quivering mass of ineffectiveness at a time of immeasurable need.

My husband’s mother, that immovable, indestructible force of nature is gone. She was taken from us by an injury that had she been even five years younger, instead of ninety-two, would have barely slowed her steps. How can she be gone? I thought she was indestructible. Her spirit and will were legendary. I miss her.

And then, not two weeks later my father became dangerously ill. He spent agonizing days being tested and retested after gloom-filled “talks” that he could not hear and refused to listen to. He saw things out his hospital window that only he could see, and told us he preferred his alternative reality to ours. Who could blame him? Cancer might be the ugliest word ever spoken to him. Why should he agree to listen to it?

And while he lay there having test after test, mama fell, and fell again and again. And because we were focused on him and the danger he faced we didn’t hear her pain, or see how badly she was broken. And she hid her pain and just gutted it out like she always does and always had until she could no longer stand the pain. So he went home to her and she left to go to the hospital.

And her body is broken, so broken that only time can heal her. If at all.

And still, I have no idea how to do any of this. I don’t know how to let them keep their sense of self and maintain their small grasping clutch on what is left of their dignity. But I want them to have more good days. I don’t want to define those days, or control those days, I just want to make sure I do what I can to help them get those days.

Teach me God. They will be home to you soon. Hold them safely here until you call them home.