How Many Children Do I Have Anyway?

he past several weeks, we've gotten into the habit of taking my Sister to church with us on Sunday mornings. Then, we bring her home for dinner, spend the afternoon together, go back to the afternoon service, and take her home after supper. It seems to be just the right amount of time for her to be home. When she spends the night, breakfast becomes very stressful for me. She is such a morning person --- I, on the other hand, I'm not. Most of the time when she's with us, she never stops talking, and what she says is just repetition over and over and over again. Don't get me wrong, I love her dearly. It's just that it does increase my stress when she's home for more than a few hours of time.

There's a lot more to monitoring her than some people might think. She needs to be watched all the time so that she doesn't get into things that she's not supposed to be into, very much like a small child. We've had trouble with her with everything from eating too much food to cutting herself with razors. She can't be left alone at all! For example, yesterday afternoon when she was home, I went downstairs for 20 minutes, and while I was gone, Mom and Dad went to take a nap. When I got back upstairs, sister had helped herself to a snack. It was less than half an hour after we finished eating.

One Sunday morning, we were going through the line at coffee after church. Sister started taking the amount of food she wanted, and then I had to have her put some of it back because she taken too much. I looked up at my pastor's wife who was serving coffee and shook my head. She chuckled and said, "How many children do you have now?"

You see, I have three children of my own. Two of them are grown and on their own, and one was at home with us. I have a stepson who is married, and they have a baby. I'm taking care of my parents, which is often like taking of children, except I can't discipline them. And then there is Sister.

Yes. I have nine children. And I am truly blessed.

A Near-Death Experience

sually, Mom is up before I am in the mornings. Generally, she wakes up at 7:00. I get up at 7:30, to make sure my son gets off to school and to start or help with breakfast. This morning, I was surprised, at first, to find that she wasn't up. Then, I was terrified.

Did she die in her sleep?

My son and I commented to each other that it was strange she wasn't up. We walked down the hall and peeked into their bedroom. They were both completely still. I decided I should wait until after Son got on the bus before I checked further. He left at 7:55; I decided to wait until 8:00 to check.

Yes, I was scared to look. Wouldn't you be?

Thoughts ran through my fear-ridden mind. What happened yesterday? Did we fight? Was it a good last day, if it was her last day? Looking back, I realized it was. We didn't fight. She got to see my younger Sister. We played some games together. It was a good day.

At 7:58, I heard her close the bathroom door. What relief! She is still alive!

I talked to my husband about it later in the morning. He made two important points:

1. Whom would it be bad for if her last day on earth wasn't good?
   
   Me, of course. She will be in heaven.
2. She could live for 10 or more years, yet. If I try to make sure every day is a good one, it will drive me nuts!
   
   Sure. But I'm not meaning I need to make every day good; I just need to make sure I'm doing whatever I can to not make her days bad.

Death. It's a reality I know I need to face, but one that I am not looking foward to.

What Did She Say??

e had Sister over today, and then took her to church again. We sang another of her favorite hymns--How Great Thou Art--and she was so excited!

She gave Husband quite a scare on the way home when she introduced him to a new phrase, "Holy buckets!" (New to him, anyway. Turns out my family is just quite old fashioned when it comes to our expressions because the definition of "Holy Buckets" given on Wikipedia is from a 1960 slang dictionary.)

Anyway, back to Sister. Yeah.

She has Down Syndrome, and one of the ways that is manifested is in an overly large tongue, which is what makes her speech difficult to understand. Since I grew up with her and was the closest in age to her, I can almost always understand her. I forget that other people can't. Particularly bothersome is the fact that some of her letter sounds seem to come out as other letter sounds. For example, she her L's almost always come out sounding like N's, and sometimes her B's come out sounding like F's.

And that's all I'm going to say.

Holy Buckets!

Going to Church

ow that I'm (almost) my sister's guardian, I'm making changes with her visits home. For instance, she can't be here for long periods of time (i.e., more than 30 minutes!) unless I am. That means each time she comes home for the weekend, she comes to church with us on Sunday. Twice.

At first, Sis was so opposed to going to church with us that she refused to come home for weekends when she was told she'd have to go. But then, at Uncle's funeral a few weeks ago, my husband got to spend a couple of hours with her, just the two of them, and he told her all about the Gospel. When she found out that's what our church is about, she suddenly was happy to go.

We were raised in an ELCA Lutheran Church; now, we go to a Reformed Church. Many Reformed churches come from a Dutch background, while the Lutheran heritage is more German and Norwegian, so the hymns Sis and I grew up on are different than the ones we're singing now. The first service this week, I noticed Sis quietly tried to sing along with the hymns, but they were all unfamiliar, and she can't read music. (Her I.Q. is 42--I'm pleased as punch she can read words!) Then, the last hymn was one she knew: O Come, O Come Emmanuel. And she let the whole congregation know she knew it! What a joyful noise to the Lord that was! It was beautiful! She hugged me after the service and told me she loves our church.

Mornings are the toughest time of day for Dad. His head generally hurts worst upon waking, or sometimes it is what wakes him. So, they haven't gone to church with us in the morning. But this week was the second time they came with us to the evening service. I think they had an idea that our religion was a cult or something, because they really avoided going with us for a long time. Mom finds it strange that my husband doesn't like crosses or pictures and statues of Jesus; he finds it strange that she seems to think the Second Commandment doesn't apply. But, they know now that our church is a good one, and this week, I think they were truly blessed by the service.

I know I was. There is nothing like hearing the Law and Gospel preached by a man of God. Amazing!

The Guardian

One job I've inherited that I wasn't expecting when we moved here is guardianship of my younger sister. She is mentally retarded, and as such, has been a ward of the state since her 21st birthday. Our parents have been her guardians, but now, they can't handle the task anymore, and have passed the role to me. This'll be interesting.

My sister lives in a group home in Big Town. Her favorite TV show is Cops (this will be important later). For the past several months, she has been in love with a guy who lives in another group home near hers. When I first heard they had gone on a date, I was excited and thought maybe she'd be able to get married. That's always been her dream! But, not only are the guy's guardians not open to the idea of him getting married, but apparently, he is some kind of a "Casanova," having been seeing several women at the same time. He told my sister once that he'd broken up with all the others, and that she was his only girlfriend. But, they have group dances, and my sister caught him kissing another woman at one of them. :(

So, I've seen her twice in the last couple of weeks, and each time, I've comforted her while she cried, listened to her tell me how much she loves him, and tried to help her understand that... well, he's a pig.

I think I made a breakthrough yesterday. We were walking through the grocery store, and she said, "He's a bad boy. He's gonna go to jail!"

It's a shame, honey, but they don't put boys in jail for breaking girls' hearts. Not even on Cops. But at least, I think she finally understands.