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 Sovereignty of God

(I started writing this before Uncle's funeral.)

I've been struggling.

Mom and I have been fighting.

I moved here to take care of things for her and Dad. I did not move here to watch her keep working herself to death. I came here to encourage her to take care of her health, resting regularly according to the doctor's orders, and not doing dangerous things like cutting with sharp knives (she has no feeling in her left hand/arm/side/leg) or bending over to pick things up from the floor (her balance has never recovered since the stroke). She was even talking the other day about wanting to iron!  Mom! You can't do that!

But it seems the more I try to get her to do what's good for her, the more she fights me. We're both stubborn. We're both argumentative. We're both hard-headed. Where'd ya think I got it from?

A woman at my church works in the Alzheimer's unit at a nursing home, so I wrote her an email on Saturday when we were at our worst. "How do you get a stroke patient to stop working and take care of herself? I came here to help extend her life, not watch her work herself to death."

Her answer: You don't.

But, she did have some good ideas. She suggested saying things like, "Mom, do you want to come have a cup of tea with me?" and sit down with her. "Mom, can you look at something with me?" and sit down with her. In other words, don't tell her she needs to rest, but that I need her for something.

She also reminded me that nothing I can do, nothing Mom can do, can add an hour to her life. She will live as long as God wants her to. No more and no less.

It's amazing how freeing it is to bask in the light of God's sovereignty.

And now, I intend to enjoy the last weeks/months/years I have with my parents.

The Live-In Housekeeper

I was thinking about something a few weeks ago. I remembered how, for many years, I joked that my goal in life was to make enough money to be able to hire a live-in housekeeper. I realized something a bit shocking that day.

I am the live-in housekeeper.

God really does have a sense of humor!

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