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The Gift of the Magi

This post describes, in part, the effects of a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. Any negative behavior on the part of my wife should be attributed to that condition. Any negative behavior on the part of myself should be attributed to my need for God’s ongoing grace.

If you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start here: How We Got Here…

Okay, it happened this week. The other night Janet looked up and asked me what my name was. She knew I was her husband, but she couldn’t remember my name. Then the next morning, she could remember my name, but not Frannie’s.

However, the main topic this week is gifts. This week (Christmas Day, in fact) we were blessed with another visit from Pastor Wilson, whom I’ve mentioned before in a previous post. She was in the neighborhood having Christmas Dinner with a member of her congregation and she stopped by afterwards to look in on us. During this visit, Janet was able to confide in her that she was afraid to die because she worried about Frannie and me. Pastor Wilson said that Janet has the heart of a mother and the heart of a wife. We were able to reassure her that we will be fine, and that we have friends who will help take care of us.

Yesterday (Saturday), our son, his wife and their three daughters came to visit. Shortly after the first of the year, they will be moving to Germany for an 18- to 36-month duty assignment. So this will be the last chance for them to see her alive and say goodbye. Everyone took advantage of the opportunity. When they arrived, our son immediately went to his mom and said, “Hello.” She, in turn, responded with, “Where are the girls?” The granddaughters all took turns talking to their grandmother. Mikaela, the one on the left below, wanted to paint grandma’s nails with a glittery green polish, but the chorea made that task impossible.

We had a chance to sit and talk for three hours, and then they needed to be heading out – besides Janet was getting very tired. As they were leaving, each of the girls gave their grandma a final hug and a kiss, and our son took several seconds whispering something in Janet’s ear. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she nodded several times.

Finally, she looked up at me and said it was good to see the girls again, and I nodded in agreement. She next asked if I enjoyed seeing them, and I said that I enjoyed it very much. Then she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Merry Christmas.”

And here I thought I was giving her a Christmas present…

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The name of this post is drawn from the title of a famous short story by O. Henry, pseudonym for the American author William Porter. I enjoyed reading his works for two reasons. The first was his name. He was the first person of note that I became aware of with the same last name as mine. Moreover, my father’s name was William. The second was because his stories were so good and often had a humorous twist. For example, he is also famous for his story The Ransom of Red Chief in which some hapless swindlers decide to make a quick buck by kidnapping the son of a wealthy man. The only problem is the parents don’t want the young hellion returned. In the end, the kidnappers have to pay the parents to accept the kid back.

Perhaps because he was known for humor such as this, people often misinterpret the ending of The Gift of the Magi as humorous as well. But I have always felt that it goes much deeper. To recap, the story is set the early 1900s and the day before Christmas a young wife realizes that she only has $1.87 to spend on a present for her husband, so in desperation she goes to a local shop and sells her beautiful long brown hair for $20. Then with the proceeds in hand, she hurries off to buy a gift for her beloved. What she gets is a beautiful chain for the heirloom watch that her husband had inherited from his father.

When her husband returns home that evening, he initially expresses dismay over her hair being cut so short. Because she is worried that he is angry (he had always loved her long hair), she presents him with the fine chain for his watch. In response, he embraces her and reassures her that he doesn’t love her any less for having short hair. Then he pulls a package out of his pocket and throws it on the table. When she opens it she discovers a set of beautiful ornate combs that he had bought her to hold her long hair in place. Then he confesses that to get them he had to sell his prized watch.

Many readers, however, stop right there and with an ironic laugh move on, failing to really read the last paragraph of the story:

“The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the newborn Christ-child. They were the first to give Christmas gifts. Being wise, their gifts were doubtless wise ones. And here I have told you the story of two children who were not wise. Each sold the most valuable thing he owned in order to buy a gift for the other. But let me speak a last word to the wise of these days: Of all who give gifts, these two were the most wise. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are the most wise. Everywhere they are the wise ones. They are the magi.”

That is the real point of the story, and for that matter of our lives – and especially so if we are caregivers. We often sacrifice, without thinking, the most precious things we have to care for our loved ones. And for that we are, unfortunately, sometimes called fools. It can be tempting to attribute that judgment to the sad times in which we live. However, we are not the first to be called fools for loving and caring for others, and we certainly won’t be the last.

Almost 2000 years before O. Henry wrote his story, someone who was very wise indeed wrote this in a letter to a group of his friends: “…the foolishness of God is wiser than men.” I have heard many who interpret this statement to be about how much bigger and more majestic God is than humankind. And while that is certainly true, I don’t believe that is what this statement is about. Rather it’s a statement about what truly constitutes wisdom.

We see the message every day: “Don’t be a fool! Look out for yourself, nobody else will.” However, that message is the real foolishness. Everyone dies, the wise and the fool alike. The difference is that when magi die, they leave behind them a world that is a bit better than the world they entered. So if the world seems to be “going to heck in a hand-basket,” perhaps the problem isn’t an excess of fools, but a dearth of magi.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling foolish…

“Blessed are You, Lord God, King of the Universe. It is right that I should at all times and in all circumstances bless You for Your wise counsel and direction. But today I want to bless You especially for opening my eyes to the truth that the giving and sacrifice You modeled for us two millennia ago is still the wisest course of action. Please, touch me and teach me so that I might be able to present truly wise gifts. Amen.”

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Tending to my Knitting

This post describes, in part, the effects of a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. Any negative behavior on the part of my wife should be attributed to that condition. Any negative behavior on the part of myself should be attributed to my need for God’s ongoing grace.

If you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start here: How We Got Here…

Even as Janet has continued to fade physically this week – the CNA reports that the difference is visible from one day to the next – Janet is somehow more aware of what is going on around her. For example, one day after lunch I burped rather loudly, and I automatically said, “Excuse me.” Janet immediately replied, “You’re excused.” A small thing, I know, but it is something.

She has also decided that she doesn’t like yogurt and ice cream anymore. So we tried her on baby food. This change has really worked out well, though she insists on being fed by Frannie. Gerber makes small containers of various types including chicken and rice, chicken noodle, pasta primavera and (one of Janet’s new favorites) butternut squash. But these prepared foods have two problems.

First, they are very thin. However, that was fixed using an old trick that I remembered from when our kids were babies. The problem for the babies was that as they were being weaned off of Janet’s breast milk, we had trouble keeping their precious little tummies full. Baby foods, like what we are giving Janet now, were more substantial than milk, but they (especially our son) wanted more. The solution was that several manufacturers also made a flaked rice cereal that was intended to be mixed with water or milk. Mixing it with the baby food, essentially as a thickener, gave a bit of improved nutrition as well. The kids did well on it then, and Janet likes it now.

The second problem with the prepared baby food is that in response to parents’ complaints, the manufacturers stopped adding salt to them. This is good for babies, but often results in the food tasting not unlike wallpaper paste – and bland wallpaper paste at that! So we added a very little salt and the flavors improved significantly. While on the topic of seasoning, we discovered that Janet loves it when we add a pinch of cinnamon to her butternut squash.

Still, she is getting more confused. Today she’s been saying that she is on a “conveyor belt” and is worried that she has “lost her belongings.” I have no idea what that means, but we are trying to reassure her.

Also this week, a cousin of Janet’s sent us a picture of her. The year was 1955 and Janet was serving as flower girl in a family wedding.

I love the smile – how very, very Janet. One day soon she will have that smile back in all its mischievous wonder.

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In years past, there was a common saying that went, “Tend to your own knitting.” It meant that the person being addressed should mind their own business. Well, this week, I have been tending to my knitting, but in the literal sense. I knit. I don’t knit a lot, and I’m probably not very good at it, but should the need arise, I can still run off a couple of scarfs or a stocking cap. The most complex thing I ever tried was to make a pair of socks. Unfortunately, I used the wrong kind of yarn and they came out so thick they were more like my old Air Force arctic boot liners – they could literally stand up by themselves.

But while I hope that you are amused by the story about the socks, you shouldn’t be surprised by the idea of a man knitting. If you go back to many of the countries where knitting developed, it was traditionally the men who knitted. The craft was thought to have developed as an offshoot of making and repairing fishing nets. Plus, it was part of the division of labor: women spun the wool into yarn, and then the men made things from the yarn his wife created. It was only later that it was hijacked by Victorian matrons to be used as a signal for words that weren’t allowed to be uttered in movies. For example, you couldn’t use the word “pregnant” but showing a woman knitting a pair of tiny booties got the point across just as well.

The neat thing about knitting, from the standpoint of a caregiver, is that it is easy, portable, and relaxing – even meditative. Oh, and don’t forget cheap too. You don’t need a lot of expensive equipment, and the supplies don’t cost a lot, unless you want some kind of fancy yarn. A pair of needles (#8 in the US will do nicely), a skein of yarn, and instructions from the internet, and you are on your way to your first scarf. Scarfs are easy because you just knit back and forth until you run out of yarn and then you’re done. Or if you want, you can tie on another skein of yarn and keep going – it’s all up to you. The project that I am working on right now is the creation of two scarfs for Christmas presents.

There is something about the process of knitting that is extremely salutary to one’s mental state. All you have to do is repeat the same two stitches over and over again, and in the end you get a beautiful scarf. Oh, it might not be as fancy as one you buy in a story but it will be yours.

Earlier I said that knitting is meditative – and it is. The soft tapping of the needles and the still softer whooshing sound they make as they slide and rub against each other creates a wonderfully restful tap-whoosh-whoosh cadence, and as the fabric you are creating accumulates, you get a tremendous sense of accomplishment.

However, if you pay attention, there are some very important life lessons that you can learn from knitting. For example, a single stitch accomplishes little, just as a single act usually has little impact on the world. However, when you combine that single stitch with hundreds or thousands of similarly “unimportant” stitches, a beautiful fabric appears. Likewise, when you take a single act and combine it with hundreds or thousands of others you create a loving, supportive environment for the person under your care.

One of the things that makes knitwear interesting, and beautiful, is the patterns in it. These patterns can take the form of changes in colors or the ways the yarn twists and winds around itself in a fancy cabled sweater. But there’s a secret: In a sense, it’s all an optical illusion. The “pattern” results from how a single stitch relates to the stitches on either side of it, and how a row of stitches relates to the rows above and below it. To a single stitch, or even a row of stitches, there is no pattern – in fact at that level, all the stitches may appear identical and thoroughly unremarkable.

But to the creator, the one doing the knitting of the yarn, there is a pattern. But that pattern isn’t formed by the cleverness of a particular stitch or one row’s brilliant colors. In fact, those sorts of things will often ruin a pattern because they draw attention away from the creator’s intention for the pattern. A truly beautiful pattern only exists in the relationships between the various parts.

As a caregiver, it is easy to feel that the individual stitches of our lives don’t matter very much. For example, will the world come to an end if my loved one’s food is a bit bland? Probably not. In fact, your loved one might not even notice. But that does not mean that the act was pointless or the concern that drove it was futile. It is noticed and it forms a vital piece of the pattern for the world.

We are told of innumerable small, even trivial things that are important to The Creator knitting our world together: sparrows dying, cups of water, tiny coins. We also read that they are all important because they all play a part, sometimes in the causal sense as in this famous 13th century proverb:

For want of a nail the shoe is lost, for want of a shoe the horse is lost, for want of a horse the rider is lost.

But sometimes a small thing is important because, in the grand scheme of things, there is significance in the insignificant because everything came from the hand of the same Creator. In this view, there are no “throw-aways.” No throw-away acts, no throw-away words and certainly no throw-away people.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling small…

“Blessed are You, Lord God, King of the Universe. It is right that I should at all times and in all circumstances bless You for Your magnificence and splendor. But today I want to bless You especially for the meaning with which You imbue my life. Because I am working empowered by You, nothing I do is trivial or meaningless. Moreover, I know that even though I do my work imperfectly, Your grace will fill for my in any shortcomings. Amen.”

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The Agony of Prolonged Expectations

This post describes, in part, the effects of a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. Any negative behavior on the part of my wife should be attributed to that condition. Any negative behavior on the part of myself should be attributed to my need for God’s ongoing grace.

If you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start here: How We Got Here…

I got this title as a (perhaps inadvertent) gift from my sister in Indiana. Which is what the Porters are knee deep in right now: prolonged expectations – and not a little associated agony. As I posted on my Facebook timeline, Frannie and I have started a new policy in terms of caring for Janet where one of us is with her 24/7. During the day, I sit next to her, while Frannie handles the “night shift.”

So Frannie doesn’t have to sit up all night, we have an old mattress that we put on the floor next to Janet’s bed. That way she can sleep when needed. She also sets a timer so that even if she sleeps, she wakes up once an hour to check on her mom. This morning about 2:00 when Frannie woke up to check on her, Janet had somehow managed to pull her pillow out from under her head and the pillow was over her face! Janet is okay, but it scared both of us.

In other news, when the nurse came this week, he determined that Janet was not making enough urine to justify the catheter, so he removed it. In addition, he began to suspect a UTI (perhaps caused by the catheter) so he recommended an antibiotic. This event had a couple of interesting side impacts. To begin with, it became clear that Janet heard and remembered the conversation that I had with the nurse.

In addition, while she is continuing to have a lot of trouble stringing thoughts together and speaking, she certainly understands much of what she hears. For example, when the medicine that the nurse recommended did not arrive on schedule she got very agitated, repeatedly asking the time and asking for her medicine. When we eventually got the medicine, she quickly calmed down and slept. Since starting the antibiotics, she has also drunk more water.

As it turns out, this reaction to the medicine is another potential indication of a UTI. Often people with dementia lose the language skills to express physical discomfort verbally so it comes out as irritation, aggression, or agitation. Consequently, when the medications started soothing the UTI, Janet became more calm and relaxed.

Finally, we got our Christmas decorations up this week. While there is no danger of our home being seen from space, we like the little potted pine that I bought at the store.

It’s not very big, but it is placed and decorated with love. Janet can see it from her bed, and that is enough…

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In addition to this blog, I am writing other things. For instance, I am currently working on the editing of a metaphorical fantasy book that I have written, titled simply The Journey. While doing that kind of work I like to listen to music on YouTube. In the comments section on one of the videos, I spied a comment by a young kid (maybe 18) who was talking about being depressed, alone and lacking motivation. The poster was also complaining about catching a lot of “bad breaks” and couldn’t wait to “get on with life.” At that age I know that I wanted – and expected – things to happen fast. The paradox, of course, was that life is already moving very very fast, but at 18 it feels like it is creeping by.

Still, there seemed to be a common thread between my book and the journey he was on, so I decided to reply. The post that the kid left was already 30 days old, so I started by referencing that…

I hope that things are going better for you now than they were a month ago. But looking back from a perspective of having seen 67 summers come and go, there’s a couple things that I want to say.
First, there is no such thing as an accident, random chance, or luck. Those are all concepts thought up by people who figured that they need someone or something to blame for misfortune. The truth is that you don’t need a scapegoat to blame because misfortune is itself a myth. Everything has a reason.

Second, being alone can be a terrible thing. I know because after 35 years of marriage to a woman I would do anything for, at some point in the next month or so, I know that I will be alone again because the woman I love will die from a condition called Huntington’s Disease. However, through my wife’s and my journey together I have learned that I am never really alone – even when the bed next to me is empty. Eyes are too easily fooled.

Third, it’s good that you have big plans, but big plans need big reasons to exist – bigger reasons than you. You want to be fabulously successful in business? Great, but you need a reason bigger than your own comfort or self-gratification. You want to be a great artist? Wonderful, but your art needs to have a purpose beyond having an impressive retail value.

The bottom line is that your life is not about you and what you can get. The only life worth living is one that is about the world around you and what you can give.

My comment has gotten a couple positive responses, but I have no way of knowing whether the original poster has seen it – he or she hasn’t responded.

I wanted to mention this post here because those points are critical for caregivers. Messages espousing self-centeredness are becoming increasingly common – even among those who frequent the support forums. I would be remiss if I failed to point out that this trend counters millenia of Judeo-Christian teaching and practice. For example, consider the Ten Commandments. While there are certainly repercussions when I violate any of them, ask yourself: who is most directly impacted by the transgression of most of these rules, you or the one being lied to (or about), murdered, robbed or sexually betrayed?

The point is that in this mad rush towards a worldview that puts us (individually) in the center of the cosmos, we are abandoning the very things that made our world what it is today.

Another disturbing trend that has at least the potential of impacting caregivers is that I have begun to see exposé articles online decrying the number of unskilled, unprofessional people (that’s us, in case you were wondering) who are caring for ill and infirm family members. The articles then go on to wonder aloud how the government allows (!) this to continue. One article even likened it to practicing medicine without a license. Their “solution” is to force or coerce the aged and ill into moving into government controlled facilities – just the sort of places that government officials turned into death houses during the recent pandemic.

But above all, we must resist surrendering to the fear that characterizes so much of society. Remember that fear is the deadliest virus because it not only steals your future, but your present as well. Moreover, it has this deathly impact whether the thing feared appears or not. What is more, it matters not whether you are fearing a pandemic or autocratic politicians, because neither in the end have any control over what ultimately happens to you.

To attribute the power of life and death to germs and politicians is the basest form of idolatry. So I guess the real lesson is that when the resolution of a situation is delayed, don’t go looking for an alternative solution. The best answer is coming and it is always worth waiting for.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you grow weary of waiting…

“Blessed are You, Lord God, King of the Universe. It is right that I should at all times and in all circumstances bless You for the ways in which You hold the world together, from the mightiest star system to the tiniest particle of dust. But today I want to bless You especially for the perfection of Your timing. I often feel like something is taking far too long, or conversely, that it flies by without time to even appreciate its passing. Nevertheless, thank You for always having what I need when I need it. Amen.”

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Loneliness Redux

This post describes, in part, the effects of a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. Any negative behavior on the part of my wife should be attributed to that condition. Any negative behavior on the part of myself should be attributed to my need for God’s ongoing grace.

If you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start here: How We Got Here…

This week has brought a big answer to prayer.

As I have mentioned before, I lost my job in early September. This change allowed me to care for Janet full time, but our finances were beginning to show the strain. To make a long story short, I was approached for a position up in the Fort Worth area. This will complicate matters, but there are reasons that I believe that this is the right step for now. To begin with, when the recruiter asked me how much I would need in salary, I took my old salary, added $6k to it and gave him that number. To be frank, in the current business climate I didn’t think that figure was even possible but I figured if I saw that, it would be a sign that this was the right move for us.

This week, after interviewing with the company twice on the phone, they sent me an offer letter $5k higher than the “unrealistic” number I had proposed! When I told Janet about the job, she smiled at me as best she could and said, “I’m proud of you.”

In terms of Janet’s condition, she wakes up very infrequently now, and hasn’t wanted to eat anything in three days – maybe four by the time you read this. There is no sign that she is in any discomfort or pain. I have had a lot of time to think about all the things that she has done with her life and despite everything, my main feeling at this point is one of gratitude for being a part of it all.

One of the things that distresses me most at this point in my life is that the lack of recognition the everyday people seem to be getting for their deeds of heroism and accomplishments. The thing that makes this world great is not so much the actions of a few “greats,” whether they be monarchs, elected leaders, or faceless bureaucracies. Greatness comes from the thousands of unrecognized actions by the “common” people.

In 1942, when WWII was in its darkest moment, Aaron Copeland wrote a piece to acknowledge the millions of “common” men and women that had died and were about to die in the great cause of beating down fascism. Called Fanfare for the Common Man the piece’s intend was to laud the life contributions of people who do not find their way into newspaper headlines. In fact, as the inscription on the Tombs of the Unknown Soldiers reminds us, sometimes even their names are lost – and are only remembered by God.

In a way that is enough, but in another it is not. Today too many people take for granted the world in which they live and disrespect the past because it does not measure up to their own personal standards. The greats are belittled and the common are ignored so that in the end, all that is left is self-centered grumbling. Although there are no easy solutions to this problem, we do have a place from which we can start. When a loved one dies, take a moment to write a tribute to who they were and what they, with the grace of God, accomplished – warts and all. Then post that tribute online, send it as a letter to the editor of your local newspaper, include it in an obituary, even send it your political representatives. That will be a fitting tribute and will lift up future generations.

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I have written before about one kind of loneliness that caregivers can experience. That is where you are lonely for the companionship that you used to derive from the person you are caring for, but now no longer can. Then there is the loneliness that can result from the feeling that no one really knows you or understands you.

But this week I want to talk about another kind of loneliness. This impersonal loneliness comes from being surrounded by people who have no idea what you are going through, and so can’t even begin to relate to your feelings, needs, or priorities. It goes far beyond simply not understanding you, it is like they are living on a different planet or in a different world from you. This loneliness is made all the worse because the people creating it have no understanding of their own blindness. They go through life blithely assuming that their opinions are not just their opinions, but rather are normative for the whole world. Consequently, it is inconceivable to them that anyone should feel any different than they do – and if you do, well obviously you are the problem.

So where do these jerks come from? That’s the bad news. Too often those jerks are you before you became a caregiver. Looking back, it should be obvious that being a caregiver fundamentally changes your perspective. In my life, Reality has wrought that change using two main tools:

  1. Different experiences – When one is living a life of unchanging sameness, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the world around you right now is just the way life is. Much is said today about people living in an “echo chamber” that reinforces one set of ideas to the exclusion of all others. However, experiencing differing things breaks down the walls of even the strongest echo chamber. One thing, therefore, that all caregivers must fight against is the desire to run back to some (probably mythical) sense of “normal.” Instead we must embrace the changes that are flooding our lives and the wisdom that the changes are producing in us.
  2. Challenges to my belief system – Ever had the experience of thinking to yourself that “God will take care of me if X, Y, or Z happens,” only to have X, Y, and Z all happen simultaneously? These sorts of experiences offer two sorts of opportunities. First, they allow you so see that what you previously held as a theoretical likelihood, is a fact. In other words, before you believed in God’s care, now you have an actual experience.

    Second, they give you the opportunity to stretch and grow strong. For example, I once read about a teacher who brought into class a clutch of chicken eggs that were ready to hatch. As the students watched the first couple of chicks struggle to break out of their shells, they began to feel sorry for them, so when the other two eggs started to hatch the students carefully cracked the eggs open for them so they didn’t have to struggle so hard. However, it turned out that their help really wasn’t very helpful at all because the last two chicks were weak and it took them many weeks to catch up with their two older siblings.

Finally, in closing, I feel like I need to offer one disclaimer: All lessons learned in life are provisional – but not because as Reality changes, it does not. The Ultimate Reality, God, does not change.

It occurs to me that “immutability” might be, on a practical level, a useful gauge in discovering the identity of a person’s god. It is that thing which cannot (or must not) ever change. Too often, the ultimate god today is named “Self” and produces bad caregivers, because being a good caregiver demands that one systematically minimize “self” for the good of the “other” – an anathema to the cult of self.

But if the One that I am trying to learn about is truly unchanging, why is my understanding always provisional? Because, for one, the student (me), far from being an apt pupil, is, in fact, often rather slow-witted. But more importantly, the subject of the learning is truly infinite in depth and scope. For example, I learn that God is Love – and that is certainly true. But now the hard part: Define Love. That lesson will likely take me centuries to grasp.

The good news that I can always depend on, however, is that the Teacher is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. This news holds a lot of comfort for us. But what about the “jerks” I mentioned before that haven’t had the experiences that we have. We could give into the anger and scream at them, “You don’t understand my world!” However, a better path is to forgive as we are forgiven – remember we used to be part of them.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling alone…

“Blessed are You, Lord God, King of the Universe. It is right that I should at all times and in all circumstances bless You for Your creation. But today I want to bless You especially for being a stable reality even when I’m not sure where things are going. Thank you for being the solid rock upon which I can stand. Please give me the confidence to continue walking even when all I can see is a tiny pool of light by my feet. Amen.”