WACKEY---

WacKey---the perfect descriptor for my mind....

or "lack their of."

Webster would say, "slightly odd or peculiar" but those adjectives  are not zany or outlandishly quirky enough for for me!

WacKey!  All encompassing/inclusive for me in thought and action!

The" key" to understanding the total me. (Note all the dots on the KEY)

Enough said!

*Exodus 20:17---A big THANKS to Buddy, Josh and Molly for living this out for me. Maybe y'all can share this "new to us" house as a vacation destination someday!

THANKSGIVING TREATS

11/25/10 Daddy took Larry and me to lunch as “his” guests to the “Friendship House.” Actually, brother Bobby and Larry worked out the details because Daddy had even forgotten to sign up for himself. He had just responded to my comment of all I was cooking for our Thanksgiving lunch with, “I eat at Friendship House everyday.” So, as not to mess with his routine, I put the dinner in the freezer for another time.
As we left to walk over for the lunch, the rain started and Daddy, somewhat flustered, asked how we would get there. He sheepishly admitted that he didn’t know how to drive there. Whew, that put a lump in my throat!
Upon arrival, we entered a different door than Daddy’s “normal” entrance---this too caused momentary concern on his part---as if he feared being lost or not knowing how to escort me in. Heartbreaking.
Finding a table, with his name on it, he admitted that this wasn’t where he normally sat but we assured him this was his table because his name was written with “2 guests” included. Reading that helped a lot and the dinner turned out to be a real "tasty" treat.
It was also an eye-opening event for me. Walkers were everywhere----some lining the wall. Red, green, black, gray and several shades of blue. All with wheels, hand brakes and a little seat---some put their plates on that part. One lady lifted hers to deposit an extra roll. I assume for her later consumption. Daddy’s is black, though he didn’t need his because I was his walker. Almost every table had at least one pulled up beside it, though a few had canes and two folks were in wheelchairs.
The treat in all of this was not only being with Daddy but also in being privileged to see how family and caregivers don’t just discard the elderly.

Proverbs 23:22 Listen with respect to the father who raised you, and when your mother grows old, don't neglect her………. (The Message)

Aging is difficult. As Daddy realizes how much ground he is losing both mentally and physically, it’s hard on him. It’s hard on all of us. It’s not life as we once knew it. Daddy is not a complainer but this season has recently discovered difficulties for him. He needs help in new ways. I see his fear when he announces that he can’t quite remember how to shave or admit that he can no longer find his way.
Yet, he still knows I am his daughter and he proudly introduced me to Pedro and Bertha, one couple whom he still recognizes from years ago. What a treat that was. He also introduced me to the lady at the next table. (Pauline Joyner, age 97) Then he leaned in and whispered, I have no idea who she is. What a treat to share that joke with him---though his “stage whisper” could probably be heard by half the room.
What a privilege it is to spend time with Daddy and honor him by giving back.

Ephesians 6:1) "Honor your father and mother" is the first commandment that has a promise attached to it, namely, "so you will live well and have a long life." (The Message)

A WALK CONTINUED……….

9/4/10 ……………………….for 33 years. In 1977, Daddy was told that he was border-line diabetic and that he needed to watch his diet and to exercise. He did just that. No questions asked. He followed doctor’s orders.
Daddy is DISCIPLINE in all caps. He has also persevered and that says a lot. Most of us are good for the short haul. It’s the long haul that gets us. Scripture supports Daddy’s lifestyle----admonishing us not to grow weary in doing what is good for others. Yet, it’s our own health that enables us to do that very thing. In Romans 12: 5 God’s word restates that tribulation brings about perseverance and perseverance, proven character.

This past year has seen a real change in Daddy’s 88 year-old body so he no longer walks at the mall. He no longer walks as far or as briskly---but he still walks. He has even fallen once on his neighborhood walk so he’s being more careful with his “wheeled” walker. He still laces up his Nikes and puts on his Kentucky hat. (His blood runs blue.) He even stops to chat with the neighbors, though he tells me when he leaves he can’t remember who they are. He’s having to learn to enjoy the moments for what they are.

Meditating on Psalm 71 had me somewhat prepared for my time with Daddy this weekend. I am his next generation and yet it was already my turn to give back to him---to remind him that he will not be cast off in old age or be forsaken when his strength fails. God never forsakes and sometimes he uses others to be his hands and feet. I am unimaginably grateful for brothers who share the privilege of helping Daddy age well. It’s still hard to say good-by and I have knots in my stomach when I leave him. Yet, I know that even from afar, I can help him continue his spiritual walk as we share our Upper Room* devotions. It’s the Methodist way---the walk he knows. I want to continue that walk with him.

*Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interest of others. (Philippians 2:4, Upper Room 2/4/10)

Routine for a “New Dance”

4/22/10     I am a Daddy's Girl! 

During"back in the day" college years my phone rang every Wednesday, as Daddy could call long distance "free" from Clarksville Livestock Company,

For years, my daddy has been “routine” personified. He ate grapefruit for breakfast everyday. He walked every day. Had Wednesday lunch at Mama Davenport’s in Clarksville, TN every week. You could plan your days by him---and really down to the hour and sometimes even the minute. We often joked about him being the “man to set your clock by.”

• 6:14 am wake-up
• 7:15 am “library time.”
• 8am out the door.
• 10:15 post office run.
• 3:15pm front step Hopkinsville Livestock Company (originally Altsheler and Payne) with an ice-cold 6½ oz. bottled coke---the ones in the bottle with the light green tint and embossed at the bottom with the name of the local bottler. He chose that time to watch his granddaughters, Polly and Allyson, come by on the school bus.
• 9 pm his orange that he ate every night in front of the TV---a dish towel over his lap to catch the drips.
• Bedtime 10:14.

As he aged, the routine changed somewhat and his coke became a 12 0z. can b/c the little grocery in Trenton, KY where he got his “bottle” supply finally ran out. He eventually changed to the canned “diet Coke” variety. His orange became a ½ an orange. Lunch at Roundies remained a daily routine and any of the waitresses could get his order w/o writing it down b/c it rarely varied---salmon patties on Monday, always beets on his Tuesday plate, chicken and dumplings for Thursday and ending his week with his Friday fish. They always brought his jello with fruit about 2/3 through his meal. A nod from him was all it took. Sat. lunch at the VFW was a given b/c for his “big” dollar in the jar donation, he was fed---a lunch this World War II “purple heart recipient” deserves.

That routine gave him security---it’s what he hung his hat on. Plus, when Mother was living, she supported his routine and kept it running smoothly for him. Now he hangs his hat and coats and clothes all over everywhere---although there seems to be a system to that too, I just don’t always understand it.
In the last 6 mos. Daddy really began to fail---maybe even the past year but I was not with him as much b/c of my treatment/surgeries in Texas. He still walked at the mall, though slower and not as far, and in the past month, not at all. More and more his confidence is deteriorating. His memory is fleeting and too much of the time he won’t even try but just say, “I can’t remember anything.” I hear him talking to himself trying to remind himself of what is next and even his speech falters some. What I am seeing is that Daddy is desperately trying to hold on. Trying to hold on to life as he once new it. I want to hold on for him---to hold on to the healthy Daddy, still walking his mile. Daddy, working at age 88. Daddy, only taking 1 aspirin a day Daddy and reading The Upper Room daily.

Daddy---the way I’ve always known him.

Daddy, my first dance partner---the one who danced with me standing on the top of his feet as a child----danced with me at my wedding and even at my 45th high school class reunion. There won’t be any more of those dances with my earthly father. That makes me very sad!

How do I handle this new struggle in unfamiliar territory?
I, who just 2 nights ago encouraged others to “dance,” am going to have to apply those same principles to new steps needed for this unfamiliar dance---a dance to a new tune with my heavenly Father.

Discovering that I need new revelation from God’s word or maybe it’s new application of truth I already know---THOTS---Trusting Him On This Subject as I begin to seek

Accepting that aging of a parent and its physical difficulties are for the most part out of my control and accepting (trying) my emotional pain

Noticing God’s hand in the provision of 2 brothers who are the best and the one who is closest in distance never waivers in attentiveness to Daddy’s needs

Celebrating last night’s phone call---Daddy sounded good and even told me he got some chili at Roundies for lunch b/c it was the daily special---but he said “it wasn’t that special” and he wouldn’t order it again.

Extending hope to others in this type struggle as I learn from it---but hoping others will extend to me their stories of “long distance” care for parents and how it’s worked for them

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4