It's Easter

 It's Easter. 

The holiday always makes me think of my father.  He has been with Jesus for ten years now.  I picture him quietly and humbly working beside Jesus.

Dad was a quiet man. Very opinionated. He was uncomfortable in crowds or around people.  He worshipped my mother and provided well for her. He was always a good husband and very close to his wife, but unfortunately, not close to his children.  

He grew up an only child and frankly I believe that he was unaware of what it was to be a father. His belief was that he was there to love and provide for his wife. The family came second.  I don't say this to be disrespectful; just an acceptance of his personality.

Dad was a believer. He did woodwork as a hobby. He wanted to share his faith, yet verbal witnessing was not possible for the shy man.  Dad began creating crosses.  All of the sets were the same, three crosses on a terraced platform.  He was very meticulous with his woodworking and created a large number of sets giving them to whomever he met.  The crosses were given to his doctors, pastors, friends, neighbors, attorneys, and anyone he came in contact with.  I began asking him to make sets for me and I handed them out in the same way.

Whether believers or not, recipients were in awe of his craftsmanship.

In the year 2000, I wrote an Easter poem in memory of the season and my father's witness.

Please enjoy.

The Crosses
 
He carefully hews each piece of wood,
With precision, care and love
Knowing that the talent is not his
But is a gift from God above.
 
So lovingly he sands each piece,
Not even a splinter raised.
Then stains the wood with gentle color,
All the while giving God praise.
 
He handles the wood with care.
Putting each piece carefully in its place.
And then the finishing touches,
All to share God’s wonderful Grace.
 
The few that receive these works of art,
Compliment the crafter with praise.
“Such lovely handiwork” they comment,
While at the crosses they intently gaze.
 
Quick to stop their shallow praise,
He humbly tells these souls,
“The crosses are my witness to others
Of God’s amazing Grace.”
 
For you see, these crosses represent
A miracle of long ago.
When God sent his only son to die,
A symbol of love for all to behold.

These crosses represent eternal life,
Free to each and every one.
All one must do is to open his heart
And accept the love of God’s Son.
 
 
One must wonder about the craftsman,
Who hewed the cross of Calvary?
Did he know that the cross he made
Would bear such suffering?
 
Did he carefully hew each piece of wood
With tender love and care?
Did he sand it smooth?
No splinters raised anywhere?
 
Did he realize that the color of stain,
Would be that of crimson red?
Did he know that it would show the traces
Of the blood that God’s son shed?
 
Was he as careful as the craftsman,
That makes the crosses today?
The man who humbly carves these symbols
That show lost sinners the way?
 
Was he tenderhearted and loving?
Like the skillful artisan of today.
When he saw God’s son hanging on the cross
Did he hang his head and pray?
 
I don’t know the man of long ago,
But he was a part of God’s master plan.
But I know the craftsman that makes the crosses today,
For I am proud he is my dad
 
He carefully hews each piece of wood.
With great precision and love.
Knowing that the talent he has,
Is a precious gift from God above.

 

 

New Again!

Well, it is another New Year - No resolutions this year. I have set some small goals but have placed them in the back of my mind.

This is the time of year that we reflect, repent and start over. We are going to take better care of ourselves, do more for others, love more, give more and the list goes on and on. All of these things are good, but we don't have to try and accomplish everything in one day. A little here and there and before you know it, all of these things will be woven into our being. We can improve ourselves on a daily basis.

Each day is a goal. It is better to achieve small goals than to fail trying to save the world.

I am excited for the new year. I went through some therapy this year, and learned quite a bit about myself. I am excited to put what I have learned to the test. I am actually optomistic for the first time in a long time.

This hasn't been an eloquent blog or "inspirational", but it is hope to me. I cannot wait to blog this year and hopefully send some inspiration to someone who may need it at that time.

I wish you all the best 2010 ever.

Be at Rest

I have struggled for many months now, actually years with a situation that I have been placed in without my consent. We would like to believe that we have the control over what happens in our lives, but we do not. Being a Christian, I do believe that God is in control, but also being human, I believe that I would like to have a say so as to what happens to me in my life. I have found only one truth in the above; that God is in control.

My struggle began a couple of years ago and I honestly have struggled. The details of the trial would only bore you, but how I let it affect me is what I want to share. I do not believe that in my soon to be fifty years on this earth that I have ever cried and whined as much, been as angry or hurt as I have in the last three years. I have cried out to God for rest and comfort and have on occasion felt like He answered my pleas, but deep down I felt alone and abandoned.

How can someone who has served the Lord for thirty seven years, taught, studied and obliged each and every task set before them feel alone and abandoned by God? It is very simple. We are selfish. Not that we don't have a right to care for ourselves, treat ourselves and pat ourselves on the back once in a while, but we are selfish in that we don't want to have to tackle the hard things in life. We would be happy just humming praise songs and hymns while walking with God with no potholes or speedbumps to slow us down. Those are the times when life is easy and it is easy to praise God. When we hit the difficult times, those are the times when we have to look for God's goodness and gifts. We put up a wall that tells us nothing good can happen to us and that God isn't with us. God hasn't left us, it is just our perception.

My husband and I joked that we would legally change our names to Job and Jobette Murphy. We expect bad things to happen to us so that when something good happens, we are genuinely surprised. However, when we do that, we are not expecting God to do good things for us either. God can work miracles, small or large through the bad things and all good things are miracles from God so it is a "win-win" situation.

What I have learned is that I expected and accepted the bad. I doubted that God had any "good" for me. Even though the current events of my life are not as I would have chosen, I do know that I finally have peace and more importantly, rest in my soul. I am not conflicted as to "why" these things have happened to me, but I know that God has a purpose in everything and that He has been good to me.

Everyday is a blessing from God. The food that I eat, the clothes that I wear, the bed that I sleep upon and the people that I meet are all blessings. Whether they were anticipated or expected blessings, or a tasty little morsel that God had hidden for me to find, they are all blessings. I will no longer wake up each morning and play "Jobette" saying, "Oh woe is me! Lord I love you and have served you why do you put this upon me?" I will wake up as the Psalmist and say "Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 117:7

My how time flies - I can't imagine where the time went. Well, actually I do know, but I shudder to think about it.

We have had two of the most lovely weather days. God has really blessed us this weekend. We have enjoyed sunshine, high 60's and low 70's and a cool breeze. We are enjoying the fresh air blowing in through the open windows as well as swinging on our patio. Most everyone in our community is out enjoying the weather also.

Spring is the precursor to Easter and I am crocheting up a storm. I am making many, many Easter baskets. My mom is taking 14 to her Sunday School pals and I am sending several to the nursing home where my mother-in-law resides to the nurses and techs and a few of the residents that we have adopted.

In addition to the Easter Baskets, I am crocheting red scarves for my daughter's Heart Walk fund raising. She is a fundraiser in her department at the Chattanooga Heart Institute. So needless to say, I have yarn everywhere and I love it! Always something to do.

It was Sunday dinner at the nursing home today. Each Sunday we take dinner and eat with Mike's mom. Word has spread that "non-institutional" food is in the facility and we end up feeding several residents as well as sharing with nurses and techs. It is a blessing to see them really enjoy their meal and they so look forward to our visit. Since we resigned our posts at our home church, this has become our new ministry and it is really a blessing. It is so funny and joyful to walk in with the food and see them gathered around my mother-in-law's room waiting for the food to arrive.

These precious people don't care if it is a gourmet meal or not - they just enjoy home cooking and that is what we try to provide. So many don't have visitors. How sad.

I just wanted to take this moment to Thank God for our blessings.

A Daughter's View of Alzheimers - part 2

In the year 2000, my husband and I moved back to his home near Chattanooga, TN (Actually NW Georgia) and left the life that we had shared in Florida for the previous 15 years. It was a welcomed change. A slower pace of life and much, much friendlier and patient people. No more constant hustle and bustle. No more road rage driving on the crowded interstates of Tampa, FL.

The draw back was leaving my mom and dad. I know that we are adults and that financially my dad had provided for their later years, but I felt an obligation to be near them to help with my father's progressing disease.

Knowing that God is in control of everything and as life would have it, my mom and dad moved out of FL and now live within a mile of my husband and myself. It was a relief to know that we would be able to assist my mom and be there when they needed help. My husband had worked in an assisted living facility that specialized in Alzheimer's care, so he was very aware of what was in my family's future caring for my dad.

We have always promised my dad that we would not place him in a nursing home. My mom being 9 years younger than my dad, thankfully has the energy and ability to care for my dad. She does get tired at times, but she is always able to vent to me and if she needs some time away, I am able to sit with my dad.

The funny part about my father's disease is that some of our friends and family did not believe that he had Alzheimer's for quite awhile. They believed that my mother and I were exaggerating his symptoms. My brothers would come for a visit and Dad would speak clearly and hold a relatively lucid conversation. They would speak with me and say that dad was fine. What no one understood is that my father would "practice" before company arrived. He would lay awake at night and create conversations. Sometimes he would make lists of discussions or questions. He hid his disease very well.

My brothers and family friends were not aware of the lost credit cards, the double deposits written in check books before my mother took over the business, the getting lost and the inability to handle normal daily activities.

I am sad to say that he is at the point where he can no longer hide his symptoms. The symptoms are visible to all who meet him.

Next time, the loss we feel.

A Daughter's view of Alzheimer's

My dad has Alzheimer's Disease. He was diagnosed 6 years ago. I cannot put everything I feel into words, but I thought that with this blog as an outlet that perhaps I can reach out to others who are in the same situation. It is hard to accept sometimes, but as time goes on, I will add snippets and thoughts about this disease and my dad.

First, about my dad.

My dad just turned 83 this last Christmas Day. He is a proud WWII Veteran although he was in the final years of the war. He never spoke about the war so we do not know much of his time at war except that he was not on the front lines. As a Navy corpman, he was on a hospital ship and briefly on an island somewhere in the Pacific in a mash type unit. He enlisted at 17 to serve his country. After leaving the Navy he finished high school and went on to college. He started out as a junior accountant with a company and stayed with the company for 35 years before retiring.

He is a loyal man. He is loyal to God, his family and his country. He was a loyal employee and I rarely remember him taking sick days or complaining about his work environment.

He had a strong sense of family and believed that his role was to provide for his family in the current and the future. Which he did. He believed he was there to protect my mother and worship her. Which he did.

Although he loved his children, it was hard for him to know how to show his love sometimes. He was an only child and did not have good parental role models. It was easier for him and my brothers as they could hunt and fish and engage in sporting events and activities. But, he wasn't quite sure what to do with a girl. Hence, my mother and I were always closer until I reached adulthood. Then I understood.

He was always so meticulous with everything. He was a perfectionist in all that he did.

All of these great qualities that he had are also his curse with this dreaded disease.

The void of memory and the inability to have normal brain function and motor skills prohibits him from doing the most basic items and having a simple conversation. His frustration lies in knowing he has the disease and not being able to protect my mom and be the head of the household. The roles have reversed and he has a hard time accepting the change.

On the plus side, he has turned into a sweet, gentle and loving man. He loves to hug and encourage. He worries and cares for his family. When he is touched he cries. He is so gentle and beginning to look so frail.

When I first noticed the disease, I saw it in his eyes. A photo taken of him and my mother was shocking to me when I saw it for the first time. His eyes had changed. They no longer had life in them. They were vacant. They were just eyes, no soul. Such a cruel disease that would steal a man's soul.

I Love Sundays

Sunday is my favorite day of the week. The air smells better. The coffee tastes better. Just everything is better on Sundays.

I love getting up early on Sunday morning and sip coffee and read the paper in the quiet before everyone else gets up and the hustle and bustle begins; before church and before Sunday dinner preparations.

As adults, we always seem to fondly look back on Sunday dinner as great times together with the family. The food, no matter what it was always tasted better. Everyone seemed nicer on Sundays. Family would come over and eat, then nap and watch sports or play games or just sit and talk.

Now we spend Sunday dinner at the nursing home with my mother-in-law. I prepare dinner and my husband and I and sometimes our adult daughter when her work schedule allows, take the meal and eat with his mom and her roommate. Although sometimes it is dreaded for us, those two ladies look forward to a home cooked meal. In a small way we are able to give them a special day; something to look forward to.

Somehow, the air smells better, the food tastes better; just everything is better on Sundays. Even sitting on the side of a hospital bed in a nursing home eating Sunday dinner and laughing and playing games and watching sports.

What a glorious day God has made.