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Temper, temper…

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

My dad used to say that it was a miracle that he didn’t end up either in prison or on death row. He was born in a sod hut on the plains of Nebraska in 1916 or 1917. Soon after his birth, the family moved to Grandin, Missouri. But things didn’t go well for him there. His father ran out on the family (which consisted of my dad, his older sister Hattie, and their mother) when he was just a toddler. When Dad was about five, his mother died of tuberculosis, and he was given to a family to raise but was soon handed over to an old woman named Becky Moore. She was in her later 70s, and was extremely abusive, physically.

He lived with her until he was about 16. He survived by learning to be quick on his feet to dodge chunks of cordwood that she would chuck at him – her favorite way of expressing her “displeasure” with something Dad had done. He also learned the value of “lighting out” ‒ getting out of the house for a few days to live in a lean-to he’d built for himself on an island in the middle of the nearby Little Black River.

Shortly after Dad turned 16, a recruiter for the Army came through town, offering what Army recruiters have offered since time immemorial: good pay, adventure, and a chance to see the world. That all sounded good, so Dad went in to talk to him but discovered that at age 16 he was too young. However, a week or so later, something made Becky Moore even more angry than she usually was, and which put Dad in fear for his life, and he knew he had to light out for good.

He tracked the recruiter down at his office in Poplar Bluff, Missouri and pleaded his case, hoping that the Army could make an exception. Looking back, Dad could see that the recruiter recognized him from their previous meeting in Grandin, because when Dad finished his story, all the recruiter said was:

“So how old are you today?”

To which Dad answered, “Eighteen, sir.”

“Well, in that case, son, it looks like you’re in the Army. Hold up your right hand and repeat after me…”

Though the Army obviously produced challenges and plenty of heat of its own – like two wars – it was very good for my dad. He used to say that in a very real sense, the Army was his mother and father because it taught him to say “sir” and “ma’am,” and how to keep his nose clean. So, he grew up to be a kind and gentle man, a dauntless friend and a fearsome enemy. He never swore because he said that using profanity was a sign of a lack of education.

William Lawrence Porter ‒ Dad

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I have written about my dad before, but I bring him up again because the comparison between him and his sister Hattie is particularly telling – and significant when talking about caregiving, grieving, and recovery.

You see, after their mother died, Hattie had some hard times too. Being five or six years older than my dad, she was taken in by a well-to-do family there in town and grew up never needing anything. But the outcome was very different. She grew up mean and argumentative, with a demanding nature where everything had to be her way. As a child, I remember Aunt Hattie as being someone who didn’t know how to play – and her language would occasionally leave drunken sailors blushing with envy. Even when she wasn’t angry, she sounded like she was snapping at you, biting off her words. In the end, her temper pretty much defined her. One thing Dad used to say her that was always assured to irritate her was, “Now sister: Temper, temper…”

However, the word “temper” has more than one meaning. In addition to being a noun that names something (typically negative) that someone has, it can also be a verb. Tempering is something that you can do to something, typically a ferrous metal such as iron or steel. (For cooks: Yes, I know you can temper chocolate too, but that’s an analogy for another day.)

The process for the tempering of steel starts by heating it to several hundred degrees and then quenching it quickly in water or oil. Though many people don’t know it, steel has a crystalline structure and the heating causes the atoms in the metal to become more mobile and redistribute themselves in a chaotic manner. The quenching then cools the metal quickly, essentially locking the metal’s new crystalline structure in place. The result is a metal that is very hard and very strong, but which exhibits a significant downside. Metal in this state is also very brittle and when deformed too much will sometimes shatter. Similarly, steel in this condition can be sharpened to a very fine point, but it won’t hold the edge well, as its brittleness means that it will wear rapidly.

Tempering deals with this limitation by reheating the metal (or more typically some part of the metal) and letting it slowly cool. This part of the process allows the crystalline structure to relax a bit, which weakens it slightly but also makes it more ductile and far less susceptible to catastrophic breakdown.

In addition to iron and all manner of steel, people can also be tempered – and as with the metal it sometimes requires a lot of “heat”.

In the case of my father and his sister, they both went through the “heat” of the initial trials and at first became very hard. But after that initial “heat treatment,” the reactions of the two were very different. My dad saw subsequent trials as things to be overcome, and as opportunities to learn. So over time, he became my dad, hard where he needed to be, but also warm and loving.

Aunt Hattie, however, just saw additional trials as things to be avoided at all costs. Her motto was to always take the easiest road possible. Consequently, she remained hard, and her spirit was brittle and susceptible to shattering. Many of the defining events in her life were places where she had to stop and “pick up the pieces.”

As we go through life as caregivers, care receivers, or those grieving a loss, the same two options are available to us. We can let the heat come when and where it may and welcome it as a force to form us into who we were meant to be, or we can reject it and the change it could have wrought and remain hard, and spiritually and emotionally brittle.

Taking the step to embrace the heat can take courage – in fact, a lot of courage. But where does that sort of courage come from?

The truth is, having the courage to believe in the future is only a risk if the future is random and uncertain. Thankfully, such is not the case. Thankfully, there is Someone with a hand on the wheel who sees not only your future, but the future of everyone who ever was, is now, or ever will be.

What’s more, the owner of that hand cares about you deeply, and in ways that you can’t begin to imagine. So the real question is, how do you begin to trust in that Guide? A very long time ago, a young man got so excited about the possibilities that he wrote a song about it:

“O, taste and see that the LORD is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!”

Ps 34:8

In a sense, this statement is the exact opposite of “blind faith” that many people think is required. Rather, this speaks to a faith that has proven itself over and over again across untold generations. A faith that is not only unafraid of reality checks, but actively invites them.

Our Creator intends far more for us than mere survival. He earnestly desires for us to thrive, where we are as sharp tools in the hands of a skilled craftsman – and for that we sometimes need to go through the flames to be perfected, refined, and tempered.

One last point I want to make is that last week, I left a cryptic note at the end of the last post, that we would have to see how things went “next week.” Well, those of you who follow me on Facebook already know how things went. I have changed my profile to reflect that I am “In a Relationship” with a beautiful Christian lady by the name of Jean Barnes.

My Beautiful Jean…

She lost her husband to HD 15 years ago, and her daughter to the same disease in February. She was the dear friend I mentioned in a post, when I drove into Dallas to attend her daughter’s visitation. After a few subsequent visits and many long text conversations and phone calls, it became obvious to both of us that we needed each other and God was bringing us together.

So, yes, I have tasted, and indeed He is very good…

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are going through the fire…

“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 commitment to me as shown by Your willingness to sacrifice so much for me. But today I want to bless You especially for the miraculous ways in which You have brought together the disparate threads of my life and satisfied my innermost needs by answering prayers I didn’t even know enough to pray. Amen.”

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Starting Recovery

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

After being the sole caregiver for someone, recovering from their death includes one key aspect: Learning to shift your mental focus back from you and them, to recognizing a new “us” which includes a different person. Often when you are in the throes of caregiving, your loved one’s needs can be so pronounced and overwhelming that you are totally focused on them – with ideally a few slivers of time set aside for self-care to help you survive.

But when that phase of life ended for me, I found that I needed to shift back to a more appropriate pattern of sharing, to where I think about life in terms of this new “us.” After years or even decades of dedicated caring, that change can be hard and the resulting relationship can feel almost unnatural at first – or at least it is for me.

But I am learning that with a lot of support and love and prayer, I can begin to see the way ahead. Yes friends, you read that right. I really did use the present tense a couple of times there.

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Things are happening fast in my life. As I write this it is 4 am Thursday morning and I have been awake for about an hour with ideas running through my head that I need to get down on paper. I am reminded of a poster I saw once that described a writer as:

“…a specialized type of alchemist that can transmute caffeine into words.”

Ain’t it the truth.

When Janet died, the post I wrote as a tribute and announcement said that the journey we are on together isn’t over. While my caregiving duties are done (for now at least – but you never really know, do you?) there was still the whole question of, “What does recovery look like?”

There are obviously many parts of that question, and one that I talked about in the recent past was Preparing for Reentry…. Carrying on with that thought, I need to remember that while it is impossible for me to get back to who I was, and how things were “before” – I still need to figure out how to go about assembling a new normal for my life.

In the final analysis, life does move on. Moreover, life was an ongoing string of catastrophes and miracles before “it” happened and there is little reason to assume that life will be any different now. The unfortunate truth is that life doesn’t come with a ration card for bad things, so that once you get your card punched, you can be assured that nothing else bad will ever happen to you. In the end, the truth remains that pain and joy are the two sides of a coin, and both sides of the coin are the same size.

Well this week, I read something that partially answered some questions, and partially gave me a bunch of new questions to ask – learning is like that. The article in question was primarily about the differences in the rates at which women remarry after the loss of a spouse, versus the rates at which men remarry in the same circumstances. While I obviously can’t speak to the veracity of the conclusions that the female author made about the reaction of women, I can say that when talking about men she “hit the nail right on the head.”

The one thing that was obvious from the outset was that widowers remarry at a rate about twice that of widows. While part of this discrepancy can be attributed to the well-documented fact that men die earlier than women do, even that statistic is changing as more and more women are dying early like their male peers. The author, therefore, attributes this significantly different rate to the fact that men and women experience the loss of a spouse in fundamentally different ways. The basic issue, she asserted, was that women experience the loss in a relational way. In other words, they miss the intimacy, the friendship, the sharing – in short, all the various aspects of a marital relationship.

By contrast, while men do miss the relationship – I know I sure do – their primary experience is different. My experience was, in the words of the author, one of an amputation. Boy, did that point resonate with me! For a very long time, even before Janet died, I had felt that way but didn’t know how to verbalize it. I felt as though I woke up one morning and part of me had been cut off and was missing.

Since Janet died, I have desperately needed someone to fill that void. But let me quickly add that the result was not simply an exercise to find a “warm body” to fill a social niche in my home, or empty spot in my bed. Human beings are not anonymous interchangeable parts. However, this point isn’t an introduction into a discussion of the “number of fish in the sea.” Rather, as with all matters in life, the lady and I need to remember that in addition to us, there is another party involved in the process – The One who created us, and Who, by the way, knows our needs much better than we do.

I have had relationships where I found the “right one” on my own and they were unmitigated trainwrecks – though God has been able to do some wonderful stuff with the resulting bits of wreckage. Then there was the relationship which God put together and it lasted 35 years. Although it wasn’t perfect, and I have been writing for a year and a half about the problems we had to face over the last three and a half decades, it was a good relationship that has prepared me magnificently for whatever God decides comes next.

Still, I don’t need to depend on a secular psychological paper to understand these feelings. Consider the creation story given in Genesis. God creates everything from light to insects, and after each act of creation, pronounces His latest work “Good.” But surprisingly, in the midst of all that goodness, there is one thing that He says is not good:

“It is not good for man to be alone…”

Gen 2:18

In response, God created a woman so that he would no longer be alone. Though there are obvious exceptions, from that day to this, men tend to look for a woman to fill in the gaps in their lives, and to be their partner and companion.

But to me, the really interesting thing is that even if you don’t accept the idea that Genesis is a true accounting of creation and consider it to be just another example of the ancients cobbling together a myth to explain the world around them, the point still works because you have to explain why that line is in the story. You have to ask yourself, “What was it that the ancients were seeing that they felt compelled to explain?”

The point is that regardless of whether God was explaining what He was doing, or the ancients were trying to explain a world they didn’t understand, men have been experiencing the sensation of incompleteness and longing that I am now experiencing, for untold millennia – an idea that I find strangely comforting. But is it really so strange?

When you are starting the recovery process, it is comforting to look at the mess you are in and see that what you are going through is survivable. I can’t tell you how many notes and comments I have gotten in the past year or so that basically said, “What you are going through is terrible, but seeing you make your way through the mess gives me hope that I can make it through too.”

One of the interesting side effects of the writing I do is that it gets me into the habit of being more open than some would say is “smart.” But perhaps, honesty is better than being smart – or at least smart in the sense that the naysayers mean. From here our conversation could go many different directions, so perhaps it is better to just let it lie, and see where things go next week.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for guys who are feeling incomplete…

“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 perfection of Your design and plan. But today I want to bless You especially for the perfection that You are bringing to my imperfect life. Thank You for the miraculous completion that You bring to the broken, empty parts of me. Amen.”

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Flashbacks

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

The settling in process continues. For example, as I was writing this post the mail arrived with an envelope containing two copies of Janet’s death certificates. I guess it’s really official now.

So it’s official…

I had a chance to go on a little local radio station this week to talk about caregiving and grief. The host and I talked for about half an hour, and he was wanting to go longer, but our time slot was up. So before we stopped, he asked me on the air if I would be willing to come back and continue the conversation. I agreed, so I will be doing it again, same 8:30 am time slot, on the 9th of April. Also I will be getting an audio recording of the radio conversation that I will be publishing as soon as I can.

Frannie also had a visitor this week ‒ her boyfriend from Houston flew up to visit. He is flying back down to Houston Sunday afternoon.

I had a doctor’s appointment Thursday to get hooked up with a new PCP (Primary Care Physician) after our move up here. My blood pressure is high (which I knew about) but he restarted me on meds for that. He also did an EKG and some blood work. My heart is good and my blood sugar is fine – to tell the truth, I had been a bit concerned about that.

The really interesting thing, though, is that when I mentioned that Janet had died of Huntington’s Disease, my new doctor told me he had been involved in treating members of three separate families in Mineral Wells (pop. 16,788) that had members with Huntington’s! You just never know…

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About a year ago when I first wrote about the connection between PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and caregiving, it was sort of a new idea, but now the connection is well established. This week I had another encounter with one of the hallmarks of PTSD: the flashback.

Flashbacks are when something occurs that puts the person back into a past situation emotionally. For example, in the past I have been triggered by fire alarms that sounded too much like a klaxon, and was put back into the mental state of trying to find my alert EC135 to run to, when there are, of course, remarkably few planes of any sort in downtown Waltham, Massachusetts. This week I got triggered again, but this time by a dream about being a caregiver.

In some ways, the exact circumstance of the dream is a little sketchy, but I remember that Janet was upset about something (I don’t remember what) and was yelling about it. And as had happened so often in real life, the more I tried to explain things, the angrier she got. I eventually awoke with a start, and I remember being stuck for a time in the same old conundrum of how to explain whatever the problem was in such a way that she would understand and calm down. After a few minutes of my mind and heart racing, trying to come up with a solution, I calmed down myself and realized that there was nothing to figure out and no crisis in need of a solution. But boy, it sure felt like there was a crisis…

But that is one of a flashback’s defining symptoms: your mind and body respond to the situation as though it were happening again. My mind was racing; my heart rate was up and I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears; my breaths were shallow and rapid; and I was sweating like mad.

Again I was reminded of what it felt like to be in a seemingly hopeless situation. Of course the situation wasn’t really hopeless – and not just because the situation was at its root a dream and so of questionable reality. But even when the situation that the dream was flashing back to was occurring in real life, it wasn’t hopeless. That was a lesson that I had to learn back then and is apparently one I needed a “refresher course” on, or perhaps a bit of continuing ed.

Which brought up for me an interesting thought: Perhaps learning from flashbacks is possible. I know that’s a curious, counter-intuitive thought, but stick with me here.

Flashbacks are by definition reliving a past experience that was stressful and even dangerous, but doing so in an environment that is often totally safe. For example, in this most recent case, I didn’t really have to worry about anything bad happening to me. After all, I was lying safe and alone in my bed. No monsters hiding in the closets, and no boogeymen (boogeypersons?) hiding under the bed. So if you think about it, what better way is there to work through fear and trauma than to replay it in a totally safe environment? This realization can be huge – especially if (like me) you are one of those people who always thinks of the thing that they should have said on the way home. Similarly, it is so easy to imagine later what I should have done when this or that happened to me.

Unfortunately, I find that too often I don’t want to actually resolve a situation, not really. Often my sights are set much shorter like merely avoiding the consequences, or figuring out how to hide the problem so I don’t have to think about it. Eventually however, the heartache, whatever it is, will come out – often at a time when I am least capable of dealing with it. For example, there are the WWII vets who have suppressed trauma related to their service for 70 years or more. Now they are suffering from Alzheimer’s or other conditions, and memories that they thought were stuffed down so far that they would never again see the light of day, are popping back up to the surface, multiplying the trauma they are experiencing.

So given these consequences, why would we not choose to really deal with a situation and have it be done with? After I toyed with that question long enough, I finally understood that the logical answer I was looking for didn’t exist. Logically, there is no reason to put off handling problems. One of the first lessons I learned as a little kid was to stand up and deal with the past and face the future – but why is doing that so hard?

As I have thought about it this week I have become convinced that it is not just about human cussedness – though that undoubtedly plays a large part. Sometimes we are told that “stuffing it” is the proper solution. We are told that big boys (or girls) don’t cry and no one wants to hear our troubles anyway. Sometimes it’s the feeling that is so prevalent in culture today, that if it hurts, it’s bad.

For caregivers, the problem can be procrastination born of emotional, spiritual or physical overload. I know that I always found it way too easy to say, “I’ll think about that tomorrow…” Then at some point, there is so much stuff put on hold that either “tomorrow” can’t hold any more or suddenly (as was my case) you aren’t a caregiver anymore, and the pile of things that you have been putting off comes crashing down on you like a high-country avalanche. The result is that now I am not only grieving, but also trying to deal with all the stuff that I kept putting off.

Still, looking to the future, my continuing prayer is that as I experience flashbacks, that God gives me the grace to learn from them what there is to learn, and not simply recoil in fear so the lesson has to be repeated again in the future. And as far as the flashback I had this week, well I’m still working on that one. So though, here at least, I will never be perfect, I can keep moving forward.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when your past is coming back to haunt you…

“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 perfection with which You work together the intricacies of creation. But today I want to bless You especially for the wondrous and, at times, mysterious ways in which You weave together my life. I have seen Your glory shining is my mornings and Your majesty filling my nights. Amen.”

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Preparing for Reentry…

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

Not much news this week on the home front – our futon arrived three days early and Frannie and I got it set up in three or four hours. Now if we have any visitors (?) they will at least have a place to sit. To tell the truth, I would have rather bought something used, but none of the Goodwill stores in the area accept furniture.

In other news, Frannie dropped the bomb on me in passing, that her boyfriend Leroy is coming up for a visit – no word on whether he is packing a ring…

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The term “reentry” of course comes from the American space program and refers to the process of coming home from space and reentering the earth’s atmosphere. As it turns out, actually being in space is not that difficult. Likewise, getting to space is not inherently very hard. Put enough thrust under anything and it ends up in space – even a red Tesla sports car. No, the really tricky bit is getting home in one piece – you’ll note that Elon isn’t trying to get his car back.

As a kid growing up in Missouri, I remember watching Walter Cronkite using a plastic model of the capsule to explain for the 900th time about a feared malfunction with the heat shield of John Glenn’s Friendship 7 Mercury space capsule, and how they hoped to minimize the risk of it falling off by not jettisoning the retrorocket pack. Their hope was that its retaining straps might help hold the shield in place.

I also remember interviews with Glenn afterwards in which he related the consternation he felt during reentry as he watched flaming chunks of metal hurtling past the windows of his capsule and wondered, “Was that the retropack burning up, or was it my heat shield breaking off?” As we discovered later with the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster, the heat of reentry is so intense that if it had been his heat shield he wouldn’t have had time to even finish that thought.

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about reentry as well. Not reentering the atmosphere from the vacuum of space, but reentering public life from the vacuum of caregiving. Though to be honest, I haven’t actually gotten as far as “reentry.” Right now I’m all about the “Preparing for…” phase of the process, and the first thing I noticed was that, with the exception of the airplane-like Space Shuttle, everyone who has ever gone into space has come home sitting backwards.

Which, if you think about it, is an interesting metaphor for life in general, and life post-caregiving in particular. As humans we seem to prefer to back into the future. For me, that posture is often more comforting because it means that I can be reassured by the sight of all the things that I’ve survived – which can be preferable to having to consider all the challenges and hills that there are still ahead of me. The unfortunate side effect, though, is that it makes it kind of hard to see where I am going. So, yeah, I guess that is one thing that I need to be working on.

In conjunction with that exploration, I have noticed something interesting about myself. I often say that if I ever created for myself a personal motto, it would probably be something along the lines of:

Just get started,

inspiration will come…

However, probably from the effect of living with Janet for 35 years I have become much more of a planner – though, from time to time, I still tend to start moving before I have a clear idea of where I’m off to. And while going through life “facing front” allows me to see opportunities and to be prepared for them as much as possible, it also allows me to see innumerable challenges fraught with all manner of potential problems.

For example, being out in the world means having to deal with people you don’t know and perhaps could be even someday, eventually, possibly, maybe, (gasp) dating. I have been out of the loop for so long that I don’t remember all the rules, and the ones I do remember are probably offensive to somebody now. All I know is that the last time I had to figure out “the rules” was Junior High – and that was a pain that I am not looking forward to repeating.

My best friend: “Hey Mike, I talked to Rebecca 4th period and she says she likes you.”

Me: “Hey, that’s great!”

Best friend: “Yes but, she also said that she doesn’t like you, like you…”

Me: “AAARRRGGGHHH!”

And add to that looming dread, the fact that while I can (with enough editing) come up with some pretty good written words, I am fundamentally not super comfortable speaking with people live or in online chats. So I am often left wondering, if we can send people to the moon, why can’t we figure out a way to edit the words coming out of our mouths? Like the time I called Janet by one of my ex-wives names in the middle of an argument. My, but that escalated fast…

But beyond any potential re-living of the bad old days of my youth, this last point brings up another topic. The world has changed a lot in the past couple years. Coming out of the bunker where I was caring for Janet I am finding a world that I at times don’t really like, or even recognize. So I begin asking myself questions like:

  1. How do I fit in?
  2. Can I fit in?
  3. Should I fit in?

With the third question being in many ways the most important. To begin with, the level of fear in society is unbelievable – and to me personally, intolerable.

Or again, people used to say, “You only have one chance to make a first impression.” Today, unfortunately, you seem to only have one chance – period. If in your entire life you have ever said anything that is troublesome to anyone, you are just done. There is no acceptance of misunderstandings and no tolerance for differing opinions, and even if you apologize for something that you acknowledge you were wrong about, there is certainly no forgiveness. Sometimes it all gets me thinking that perhaps sitting on my front porch and yelling at people who walk on my lawn wouldn’t be such a bad life. But do I really want to end up like Clint Eastwood’s character in Gran Torino?

This point ties in with another challenge I have been considering. As I grow older, I have noticed a tendency to become more introverted – a not uncommon situation. Recently, I was listening to a radio program that was discussing retirement, and they mentioned that introversion was a real problem in that context as well. The counselor leading the discussion said that too many people decide to simply withdraw from everything, and sit on their front porch in a rocking chair and watch the world go by. But as I have written before, that can kill you.

So with all these challenges in front of me, what am I to do? Well, I could turn back around, try to convince myself that the things I saw when facing the other direction weren’t real, and resume sliding into the future backwards. But for me it boils down to a rather old-fashioned word that people today like to ignore or redefine – Integrity. And as far as I can see there is only one thing that I can do with integrity, and that is to continue becoming who God made me to be. Who I am as a created being is what ultimately gives my existence meaning. As an engineer, I like to tell people that raw data is meaningless. The thing that gives it meaning – and therefore value – is its context. The proper context for my life is The One who created it.

Admittedly, figuring out who that person is can be a big challenge, but then only the big challenges are really worth tackling. It is only by learning who I essentially am that I can learn to let go of the temporary and accept what comes next. For example, the relationship that Janet and I had was the best that I could ever conceive. But that, in a way, is part of the problem: It’s the best that a human mind could conceive – I think I’d kind of like to find out the best that the mind which created the cosmos in all its amazing complexity and diversity could conceive. Now that could be interesting!

So the preparations continue…

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are going through life sitting backwards…

“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 future that You have prepared for those who love You. But today I want to bless You especially for our ‘swivel seats.’ So often I feel afraid of the future, but You are eternally forgiving and patient. At any moment I can turn around in my seat and face ahead towards the future, fearlessly. Thank you. Amen.”

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Living your purpose, on purpose

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

We are finally getting settled in.

We have a clothes washer and dryer, and a refrigerator, though not without the odd trial. For example, our washer and dryer were supposed to be delivered between 6 and 8 pm. The folks from Lowes finally showed up about 9:30 pm. Then when they plugged it in, the dryer didn’t work – the lights wouldn’t even turn on. The “installers” told me that the outlet was probably dead, so the next day I had an electrician come out to check the 240v outlet. When he found out that it was “hot,” he checked the electrical connections in the back of the dryer pro bono. This is what he found.

Well done, Lowes, well done! Actually, I’m just glad nobody got electrocuted. The connection that is hanging free is one of the two powered leads and the cover that went over this terminal strip is a piece of galvanized steel.

All I need now is a bed to sleep on. Maybe next week…

An exciting piece of news is that I am going to be on the radio March 19th to talk about caregiving. The way it came about is that I always listen to a local radio station (KATX) on my way in to work. Every day they have a couple of interview segments where they talk to someone in the community about some matter of importance. So the idea occurred to me that maybe there are people in the area who are dealing with neurological conditions, who might benefit from my experience, so I called the station to talk with someone about my idea.

Now to give you an idea of how small this station is, they don’t have a receptionist to field calls. Instead, whoever is on the air right then answers the phone. Consequently, when I called, the fellow who picked up the phone was the very guy that I needed to talk to. We talked during a record and a pre-recorded news program, and he agreed that it was a great idea. So he is going to interview me on the air.

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One of my favorite books (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) posits in its opening pages that our lives are, for the most part, spent trying to answer the Big Three Questions:

  1. Where do we come from when we’re born?
  2. Where do we go when we die?
  3. Why do we spend so much time in between wearing digital watches?

Beneath the obvious comedic intent of the last question, there is a rather profound idea in play that, put more simply, questions the point of our lives:

“Why am I here? Does my existence have any meaning?”

For the “lucky” few who manage to make it through life with no major upsets, the question of meaning may be successfully avoided for years, perhaps an entire lifetime, though an interesting discussion might be had as to whether such a life constitutes a great blessing or a rather curious curse.

In any case, however, for caregivers and patients there is no need for such analysis as the thoughts questioning the meaning of our existence are disturbingly common. I imagine Janet lying in her bed and wondering about the meaning of her life. She worked so hard for so many educational and political causes that are falling apart in 2021. Thankfully, she didn’t live long enough to see men pretending to be women eviscerating women’s sports.

The way I tried to address the issue was to collect and surround her with letters and mementos that spoke to her accomplishments – which she really appreciated. She had me read one letter and the acknowledgements it contained to her over and over again.

And for my part, I often had feelings that mirrored hers. For instance, it wasn’t one of my prouder moments, but occasionally the question would come up, “Did I really work hard for all of those years building a professional career just to end up changing my wife’s diapers?” There were many times when I would feel underappreciated and underutilized. And then, one day there were no more diapers to be changed, so what now? What is the purpose that I am to live for now?

One problem people can have with finding their purpose post-loss during grieving is that many didn’t know (or recognize) what their purpose was to begin with! Last Sunday in church, the minister talked a lot about our purpose in life and that each of us does have a divinely-designated purpose which sometimes remains constant throughout life and sometimes changes as the circumstances around us change.

In years past, it was common for people to think in terms of having a “calling” to certain professions like being a member of the clergy, a lawyer, doctor, or teacher. Unhappily for society, with many people today, such labels may tell us about what a person does, but very little about who they are. A concept that we seem to have lost is that someone’s character (who they are), should inform our judgments about whether we should believe or trust what they say and do. Too often the question simply boils down to, “Do they agree with me?”

But all this got me thinking, if I really do have such a purpose, it follows then that everything that happens to me is either preparing me for the work ahead, or is an opportunity for me to practice my calling now. With even a cursory consideration of nature it is plain to see that nothing is lost or wasted. It is reasonable, therefore, to assume that the same should be true of the experiences I have. They are all good for something – even if it is only to teach me: “Don’t do that again!” (See for example, Rom 8:28)

So how am I to go about identifying or renewing a sense of purpose in the midst of all the emotional clutter that at times obscures my sight and clouds my vision with grief?

The first part of the answer is to stay awake and aware of what is going on around me. One of the ways that I learn what to do is to notice what needs to be done, and then to take that as a personal mandate to get involved. For example, I know a woman who makes little felt dogs to raise awareness and to raise money for research towards the cure of a degenerative disease. Or, there are people I know who take on praying for people who are in need of support. Or maybe even volunteering to talk on the radio about caring for a loved one with a degenerative neurological condition works. No act is too small if it fills a real need.

The next thing I can say is, don’t forget to consider what you find fulfillment in doing. When working in your calling or purpose, the experience is unmistakable. The professor and mythologist Joseph Campbell expressed this point simply as, “Follow your bliss.” But you need to understand his usage of language. “Bliss” is not just being happy, very happy, or even mind-bogglingly, extreme, over-the-top happy. Bliss is the experience of knowing that you are in the right place, doing the right thing at exactly the right time. Sometimes people talk about being “in the zone” where they lose track of time and everything outside of that one task – that can be one expression of it.

Finally, there is the goal to practice your purpose or calling (as I mention in the title) on purpose and with intentionality. For me, this point means God shouldn’t have to hit me upside the head every single time to get me to understand. At some point the goal should be to pursue what is right consciously and deliberately, without the need for a spiritual carrot or stick.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling purposeless…

“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 plans and concerns for the cosmos and all its inhabitants. But today I want to bless You especially for the plans which You formulated for me and for my blessing. Too often I need to be compelled and driven to do what is right – and even what is right for me. Teach me how to trust You and follow in Your ways. Teach me how to go about living your purpose. I ask all these things, trusting in Your long-suffering loving-kindness. Amen.”

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His ‘n’ Hers

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

As we continue getting settled in, the place is really beginning to come together. This afternoon (Sunday) we will be getting our washer and dryer delivered. They are both made by LG and while I have never owned one of their appliances before, I did have a couple LG phones that I really liked, so I’m hopeful.

I mentioned last week that a dear friend’s daughter died of HD. Well this week there were visitation hours over in the Dallas area so I attended. I am so glad I did!

In business there is the term, “flying the flag” that refers to attending a meeting with little or no expectation of really doing anything useful, but you go because you feel you need to. As I was driving to the visitation I was feeling on some level that this was a bit of a “flying the flag” kind of trip. I was going because she was a dear friend and I wanted to be there to help support her but I had no idea what that would look like. Plus, to be honest, there was a certain amount of apprehension as well. After all, we had never actually met so I guess on some level you never really know, do you?

But what I found was very different from those worrisome thoughts. Jean is as wonderful a lady in person as she is online, and her family is great too. Turns out that her daughter taught at a local Christian school and a lot of former students were stopping by to pay their respects – which says a lot about who she was during her life here on earth. But more importantly, attending the visitation really did accomplish some things that were very positive.

In case you didn’t know, Janet donated her body to the local medical school to help train future doctors in anatomy. Consequently, when Janet died, her “final arrangements” consisted of calling a pager number and telling the school where they could pick up the body. There was, therefore, no visitation, no memorial service, and no funeral – just a phone call and a pickup by a local mortuary. In six months to a year when the school is done with Janet’s body they will cremate what is left and send the ashes to us via UPS.

Now don’t get me wrong, her body donation made the time immediately following her death much more bearable. Moreover, I am so glad that she made that choice because it was a perfect expression of her life and attitude. But there were also negatives to that decision. For instance, seeing her body in a casket would have provided a certain kind of closure, which Frannie and I missed.

But in the end, while I benefited from this visitation greatly, this visit wasn’t about me. The primary goal was still to support Jean and her family. I have never met IRL (In Real Life) someone that I had first met online. Hence, one thing I became aware of was that, for me at least, the initial meeting felt a tad awkward. We had talked so many times, about all manner of things, so in one way it seemed like we were old friends, but in another way we were just meeting. Still, we had time to share blessings and challenges, and I felt very blessed by the time together – and hope Jean did too.

On a completely different track, this week I realized a couple of other nice things about living in a small town like Mineral Wells. First, at night it gets really dark so you can see so many stars, it is incredible! Second, it is quiet. When we were living in Pearland, the TV volume was typically set around 30 to 40 on a 100-point scale. Here in Mineral Wells, with the same TV displaying the same programming, I have the volume set between 10 and 12.

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Many years ago, a common gift idea for newlyweds was “His ‘n’ Hers” gifts. At one time, nearly anything that both members of the couple could use came in special monogrammed versions. However, linens were often the most common of such gift idea – and the most practical. When Janet and I were married, Janet’s best friend (and Frannie’s future godmother and namesake) gave us a set of monogrammed towels and washcloths from LL Bean. Amazingly, some of the towels survive to this day.

That towel serves as a reminder to me that as a married couple there are certain things that we should share. However, one thing that we should not share is symptoms – and sometimes when caring for someone 24/7 it is hard to avoid that sort of “togetherness.”

The first time I ran into this effect was with my first wife’s mother. All mother-in-law jokes aside, she was one of the most emotionally hardened, manipulative, bigoted people I ever had the displeasure to meet. She would come home at night laughing about how she had twisted a person’s words and manipulated situations to accomplish what she wanted – oh, and did I mention that she worked in Child Protective Services? Sweet, right?

From day one, she angered me and I was offended by her warped sense of ethics that allowed her to do things like tell her daughter that if her future son-in-law had a black best man she was going to walk out on the ceremony. It’s a long story, but I didn’t find out about it until years later. When I did, I blew my stack, and had to deal with her retribution for years. Which is another long story.

The point is that the more I thought about what she had done, the more emotionally hardened I became. When I realized what was happening, I was confused. How could I become like the person I disliked so much? But then I was going through some counseling, and the therapist explained it to me. She said that at the subconscious level our mind doesn’t understand right and wrong, so if it sees me focusing on something a lot – like what a jerk my ex’s mother was – it would figure, “Oh, that’s what Mike wants to emulate,” and start moving me emotionally in that direction.

But this principle also appears in other places – like in the Scriptures where Paul gives us the prescription for preventing the problem: “Focus your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.” Col 3:2.

In other words, concentrate on the good stuff, and the best of the good stuff is our Creator.

While this is an important lesson for everyone, I think that it is particularly critical for caregivers. On the support forums you are inundated with people asking for help with a loved one who is becoming increasingly argumentative, judgmental, and accusatory. Sometimes you see that the original poster has started mirroring their loved one’s emotional state – which the loved one sees and can, in turn, react to by amplifying their behavior.

So ‘round and ‘round she goes,

and where she stops, nobody knows.

Compounding this tragedy is that the emotional responses that started the cycle in the first place weren’t even real, but the symptom of a disease. So they end up with His ‘n’ Hers symptoms. What is needed is a way to break the cycle of ever-worsening actions and reactions – and Paul’s prescription is an excellent tonic. But it will require letting go of some stuff before you can experience its salutary effect.

For example, there’s the attitude that says, “Well they started it! They have to say, ‘I’m sorry’ first.” Of course there are two immediate problems with that perspective.

First, you probably aren’t five years old any more. Do I really need to go into more detail here?

Second, the person who you are wanting the apology from is ill. Often things like repentance, logic, and even “common sense” are all things that they simply don’t possess any more. Sometimes expecting them to behave in a different way is akin to asking a paraplegic to run a 100-yard dash.

The other factor that plays in here is forgiveness. Very often as a caregiver you truly have been wronged by the person that you are caring for, and that injury must be dealt with. Thankfully we live in a world where our Creator has also made true forgiveness available, and it is only that forgiveness that has the power to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start – both with Him, and with our fellows.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling short of patience…

“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 compassion and forgiveness. I know firsthand how healing the words, ‘I forgive you,’ can be. So today I want to bless You especially for the gift of being able to forgive others. Thank You for making available the blessing of forgiveness to all. Amen.”

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Having pain – or is it a paean – in my heart

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

We are continuing to get settled in, and for those of you worried about us Texans, we didn’t lose power or any utilities during Winter Storm Uri – which is a blessing. The main negative about the bad weather has been that we are needing a lot of stuff for the house and nothing is getting delivered. Still, on the whole, that is a minor inconvenience.

A somewhat bigger inconvenience is that when we arrived, we discovered that there was no refrigerator in the place. Hence while it was cold, the garage was our refrigerator and the picnic table on our deck became the freezer. However, the cold is apparently over because it got up into the 60s Saturday, and even the overnight low was still above freezing. To handle that situation, I’m going to try to find a small “dorm room” size fridge to tide us over until our new refrigerator is delivered in a week or so.

As we unpack, we keep finding stuff we didn’t intend to move here – like the Crocs that Janet wore because they helped her balance. I think that the rubber gripped the carpeting in the old apartment better and so she felt more stable. We also found a couple of Provale cups that I bought to help with Janet’s swallowing problems. Each time the cup is tipped, it dispenses exactly 10cc (or about 2 teaspoons) of liquid. I thought that I had a home for both of them but – more about that in a moment. In the meantime, if you could use one of these cups, send me your address via private message and one will be on its way to you.

Even though it was a pain moving in the midst of everything, it has really been worth it. Getting settled in here, I am realizing how many memories the old apartment held. Moving has created a new space for Frannie and I that we can fill with new hopes and new dreams. It must be terrible trying to “move on” when you are surrounded by a place that reminds you of… before.

One last look, then always forward…

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One of the fundamental problems in human conversation (especially with caregivers and others going through grief) is that when someone asks how you are doing, they expect a simple answer. They want to hear me say, “Oh I’m fine.” Or, “This week has been really hard, I still miss her.” Or, “I am so tired all the time. I don’t even want to get out of bed.”

Regardless of what the one answer might be, they want THE answer and that expectation can result in the person answering the question to begin feeling as though there is something wrong with them. However, the truth is that having a loved one die, or begin going through the process of dying, is a very stressful time that calls out a whole smorgasbord of (often conflicting) emotions, and which belies the ability to give simple answers.

This week, I came to a better realization of the exact nature of the feelings in my heart, and I found it contains a curious mixture of tragedy and triumph. On the one hand, I was listening to one of my favorite Moody Blues albums and there was a line in a poem that ran thus:

“Night time, to some a brief interlude

To others the fear of solitude”

The poem is so poignant that it brought me to tears. Right now, I am definitely in the “To others” category, and did I mention that I was listening to it at work on headphones…

In a related issue, early in the week when I found the cups I mentioned earlier, I had contacted a dear friend of mine who had a child with HD, and offered her the cups. She accepted the offer happily, but then Friday just as I was leaving work, I got a message from my friend that her daughter had died. This loss brought up fear for me about my two children who are at risk, and a heaping load of fresh “fear of solitude.”

The storm also got in on the act, bringing on its own feelings of inadequacy. Driving home from work one night, I cried because I realized that I needed Janet back, because Janet would know what to do. Coming from New England, knowing how to deal with winter storm warnings was coded into her DNA. As hard as I tried, all I could think of was to buy bottled water and stock up on batteries for our flashlights. But I was able to find a gas station that had gas and the local Walmart announced that they would stay open until they ran out of stuff to sell, they lost power, or 11pm – whichever happened first. So I managed to get food and other things that we needed.

However, that is not the only side. Remember, I said this is a mixture. In compound with these feelings is a sense of joy that directly contradicts the negativity.

Frannie and I are in a new home, making a fresh start together. We are drawing closer together and I see every day, ways in which Frannie is becoming more self-reliant and confident. It is as though not having Janet in the home has freed Frannie to grow, expand, and flourish. This development, in turn, gives me joy because one of the things that had always worried Janet and me was that Frannie would get drawn into taking care of us and not have a life of her own. But the distance from Houston seems to be drawing her closer to her boyfriend and his family – especially his mother and aunt.

In other news, Saturday it was so warm, we took the dogs out to play in our fenced backyard. This is a whole new sensation for them, to be outside without being on a leash. We have dogs on all three sides of us in the back. They are all larger dogs and Lawtay was running around in circles making friends with all of them.

Then also at work, things are going exceptionally well. It is good to feel useful again, and to work for a company that doesn’t start with the presumption that its employees are lazy jerks who will get away with whatever they can. In addition, I am making great headway in defining the software systems that the company needs and we are ready to start building those new systems. And I think it goes without saying how good it feels to have a steady paycheck coming in.

But how about my friend whose loved one died from HD, that is all bad news, right? Nope. There is good news (in fact, The Good News) there as well. Just as with Janet, death is not the sad end of her loved one’s story either but is instead a release from the grip of a terrible disease.

Yes, in the midst of all the upset and the negatives there is much to be thankful for as well. But where does that leave me? Is life a song or paean of joy and triumphant celebration or it is rife with pain, disappointment and sadness? The answer is obviously, Yes! It is both, pain and paean, so regardless of how bleak things might appear at any one moment, there are always reasons for hope.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you can only see the darkness…

“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 light that you bring into the world – first at the moment of creation and second through Your coming to live in the world with us. But today I want to bless You especially for all the ways that You bring light into my life. So many times I feel like a puppet being pushed and pulled around by forces that I can’t comprehend or control. But despite those emotions, I can know that You have control of my strings and are directing and guiding my feet. Amen.”

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Rubicons, as Far as the Eye Can See

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

Last Sunday, I shared that Frannie and I were getting packed up for a move up to Mineral Wells, Texas. This Sunday, we feel really blessed because the move went without a hitch – aside from the one I had to get mounted on our car. The movers arrived right on time and packed us up carefully and efficiently. They finished up around 3PM, so after Frannie and I packed a few things that we didn’t want to send with the movers (important papers, contents of the refrigerator, etc.), we got on the road ourselves about 6PM, towing a little 4×8 U-Haul trailer.

The drive was about six hours, so we arrived in our new home slightly after midnight. We were tired, but otherwise safe and sound. The next morning, we unloaded the trailer and while I went to return it, the movers arrived and started off-loading the truck. At one point I was concerned that we would run out of space in our new house before we ran out of boxes in the truck! But in the end everything worked out well and even the finances offered a nice surprise, as the cost of the move ended up being considerably under the company’s original estimate. In addition, U-Haul didn’t charge me extra, even though I kept the trailer an extra day.

In addition to unpacking, to be fully at home we need to come up with three appliances (washer, dryer, and refrigerator) and a couple pieces of living room furniture to replace items that we had to get rid of about a year ago to make room for Janet’s hospital bed.

In any case, the utilities are now in my name, and the cable is hooked up – though all we have is internet. I got a Roku unit about a year ago and really like it. If all I want to do is sit and watch documentaries about Blue Whales, they have a channel where I can do that. If I want to listen to music, I can do that too. It’s a neat service that doesn’t require me to buy cable TV with a bunch of channels that I don’t want – or find offensive.

Something else I have noticed since leaving our old apartment, is that rather than growing dimmer, my memories of Janet are, for now at least, growing stronger and more vivid. I well remember the rough texture of the gray wool coat that she wore the first time we met. The sound of certainty in her voice the morning after we first had “unprotected” sex: “That did it! I’m pregnant!” And she was! Her courage, sitting in front of a room full of 2nd year medical students and letting them watch her undergo a neurological examination. So many good memories!

So we are getting settled. And yes, God is definitely taking care of us…

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The title is a reference to the phrase “Crossing the Rubicon,” as it is used to describe a decision that implies a point of no return. The phrase itself was derived from the historical event where the Thirteenth Roman Legion under the command of Julius Caesar, in direct defiance of orders, crossed the Rubicon River which formed a portion of the northern border of Italy. As a result of this action, Julius Caesar became, well, Julius Caesar.

The interesting thing for me was that this crossing took place on January 10th, 49 BC, or to put it another way, exactly 2070 years to the day before Janet made her own “river crossing” (of the River Jordan). As I looked into this bit of historical synchronicity, I found some interesting sidelights that apply directly to being either a caregiver or someone who is being cared for.

To begin, you would think that the Rubicon would be one of Europe’s mightiest rivers – after all, an event this important should take place on a powerful, majestic river. But not so. Except for a short portion right at its mouth where it empties into the Adriatic Sea, the Rubicon is little more than a creek that Julius’ men could have crossed without getting much more than their caligae wet.

And so it is in our lives. We tend to think that big, momentous turning points should have big, momentous signs and markers. But the opposite is more often true. I know that in my own life, most of the major turning points are only clearly discernible in the rear view mirror – like a random thought drifting through my head that perhaps running an ad in a singles paper (sort of like Tinder, but hardcopy) might be a way to meet a nice lady to date. Or a snap decision in high school to take a creative writing class because it was supposed to be an “easy A” only to have it ignite a love of writing that has lasted 50+ years. Or sending in a postcard from an engineering magazine, to learn about a new programming language that would become my profession.

The lesson is that you never know how a small, even insignificant, change is going to impact your life. I certainly had no notion at the time of anything big afoot. And if you think about it, that means that we can (and often are) passing dozens of life’s turning points everyday without even realizing it. Which is sort of what I meant in the title. Every step we take is in essence wading through another personal Rubicon – and as with the real one that Julius tramped through, there is no getting halfway across and turning around.

The significance of water…

Passing through and over water is a very powerful image that has been used since time immemorial to symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Which is really the point of baptism, whether Christian or the ancient Jewish rite that came before it. But wait, there’s more.

There were other images about water: Moses and the children of Israel passing through the Red Sea, Jonah passing through the sea in the belly of a “great fish”, Noah riding out a flood in a massive boat that he built. And these are just a few of the references in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

When you add to those examples, the use of similar rites by everyone from the ancient Sumarians to indigenous tribal groups in North and South America, and you begin to get the feeling that there is something “hardwired” in us as human beings that needs these sorts of observances.

The other thing to notice about crossing the Rubicon is that it wasn’t actually very hard to do. Perhaps that’s another important lesson. In addition to expecting big landmarks, and big portents of the future, we also expect big struggles. While there are numerous obvious exceptions, many times in the actual doing, they aren’t very difficult. To be sure, I have struggled about whether to take a step or not, but that is different from taking the step itself. In those cases, the big struggle wasn’t always against fear, but rather apathy. It is so easy to fall into justifications like, “What’s the point? Nothing will ever change.” Or the ever-popular, “What can just one person do?”

But I think that one of the big defining factors of Rubicon moments is the rules: either the rules we keep in those moments – or those we break. Here I’m considering the word “rules” to stretch far beyond formal laws and social mores to include things like personal commitments. It is the rules that put the teeth into decisions because regardless of whether you choose to keep or disregard a given rule, there will be repercussions. For example, while Julius Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon led to his becoming the absolute ruler of Rome, it also led to his death just five years later on the 15th of March, 44 BC.

In the same way, if I had done something different at any of my big Rubicon moments, my life would have been very different. But that fact highlights a problem: if looking back I see that I made the wrong choice, am I just stuck with the consequences? Thankfully, we are not, due to what I like to call anti-Rubicon opportunities – also called redemption. For instance, I have mentioned before that Janet was my third wife. I made two very bad decisions and crossed two “rivers” that I should not have. The damage done by divorce can be redeemed, but it is not something I could do on my own – it needed divine intervention. Although, there are still visible cracks, like Japanese Kintsugi, God can make my life’s cracks and broken spots beautiful, such as when you consider that my five (surviving) kids are all just brothers and sisters. The prefix “half” doesn’t exist in their vocabularies.

So if you have crossed some rivers that you should not have, take heart. The damage is redeemable.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you made a really bad choice…

“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 perfection of Your plans and creation. But today I want to bless You especially for Your unlimited ability to redeem that which is indentured, repair that which is broken and find that which is lost. I feel so often like my life is an unmitigated mess, but bit by bit, piece by piece, You manage to miraculously reassemble the shards of my life into something beautiful. Thank you! Amen.”

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UNambiguous Loss

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

This week we are preparing for our move, and as you read this we are making our final preparations for the movers who, if everything goes as planned, will arrive bright and early tomorrow morning and start packing us. The movers estimate that it will take eight hours to get everything in the truck, so the day after, we will start our migration north.

Getting ready to move means going through a lot of old papers, especially in our garage. I have told you before that Janet was a school teacher. However, she was also something of a pack rat. In our garage we have boxes with her grade books from classes she taught 40 years or more ago. Likewise, there were boxes of canceled checks that were not only written on accounts that don’t exist anymore, but in some cases on banks that don’t exist anymore!

However, I also found other things… One such find was a note that she wrote sometime in August of 2019. I know that because in it, she refers to the shooting that took place on the 3rd of that month where a deranged man shot and killed 22 people at a Walmart in El Paso. I don’t know why she wrote it or who it was for as she never showed it to me. She was apparently worried that I would be “inspired” by his actions and go on a similar killing spree.

I well remember those times. She was constantly worried about anything and everything. It was then that I started having to censor the radio and TV programming. I also had to be very careful about what I said around her because there was no knowing what news item or bit of conversation she would pick up on and start obsessing over.

For example, if I came home from work upset about something trivial that happened at work, she would right away jump to the conclusion that I was about to get fired, and she would go on about it for days. Ironically, by the time I eventually did get fired (for not communicating well!) her condition had degenerated to the point that she only asked me a couple times if we had enough money, and that was about it.

Thankfully, I had been putting a bit of money aside and we had enough for two months, which I was able to stretch to three months. Still, God brought this job along just in time.

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Several months ago I wrote a post entitled Ambiguous Loss. As I wrote then, this sort of loss can take two forms, the most common of which is feeling you have lost someone when in some way they are still there. A typical example of this type of loss is when dementia turns your gentle, loving spouse into a harsh, judgmental stranger. Or when your bubbly, outgoing loved one starts becoming sullen and unresponsive.

UNambiguous Loss is the old-fashioned, familiar kind, where the bed is empty and you are now officially a widow, widower, or orphan.

(Which, by the way, makes me wonder why isn’t there a word for describing someone who has lost a sibling? We really should have one…)

Even when the loss is finally unambiguous, the ambiguity can nevertheless continue in other ways. For example, a few days ago I got a care package from Houston Hospice that included a couple of books on the topic of grieving. Unfortunately, the books were not written with the world of caregivers in mind. Reading them, you find that the books do spend a page or two talking about death after a “prolonged illness.” The problem is that as you read further, you see that they define “prolonged” in terms of weeks and months – not years or even decades. Not surprisingly then, these books were written assuming a timeline that proceeds something like this:

  1. Loved one becomes ill, injured, etc.
  2. Loved one dies.
  3. Grief starts.

To be fair, this plan works fine for the majority of deaths – like if Janet had been hit by a bus, or had suffered a sudden heart attack. But it falls apart when the illness takes years or decades to reach its solemn conclusion. The problem is that in the sort of scenario many caregivers face, the three steps are no longer discrete points in time delineated by sharp edges separating one step from the next.

Rather, the steps get smeared out in time like a rain drop running down a window, or a tear running down a cheek. As a result, the steps start overlapping, getting smeared together. Or to put it another way, each step becomes a process. Sometimes it felt as though all three were happening simultaneously.

To begin with, it is not at all clear when Janet became ill – or is that even the right way to formulate the question? Perhaps I should say it is not at all clear when Janet became symptomatic. Remember, HD is a genetic condition so there was never a time in her life when her genes weren’t messed up. But even determining the onset of symptoms can be fuzzy. Her jaw used to “pop” shut. She said she had TMJ (temporomandibular joint problems) but maybe it was the HD.

But surely death is an absolute, isn’t it? Well in one sense, yes. But in another, I’m not so sure. As I look back, I try to figure out when the Janet I knew started dying. For months, my vigil by her bed had not been about waiting for death, because she seemed to be drifting back and forth between two worlds: the one where we all live, and the one where she is now. So even the concept of death became indistinct and cloudy.

In the end, about all I do know for sure is that, for me, the grieving did certainly not start the 10th of January 2021. For me, and I suspect many others who are caring for loved ones that truly have “prolonged illnesses,” the grieving starts a long time before the person you love and are caring for stops breathing.

In fact, if you look at any list of symptoms of grief you will see that the list is largely indistinguishable from the normal everyday experience of being a long term caregiver. Depression? Check. Feelings of guilt? Check. Exhaustion? Loss of Control? Loneliness? Check, check and check again!

I guess the point here is that things we read can serve to set out expectations of what is right or normal during grieving. So what happens when someone who is already in a precarious state emotionally reads a book that models grieving in a way that is so very different from their own experience? I’ll tell you one thing that can happen: the feelings of guilt that were never very far away, jump out and, taking center stage, start yelling at you.

“See your wife is dead and you can’t even do that right! Man, you are a piece of work! There is nothing that you can’t mess up.”

Needless to say, those sorts of comments are a load of what my Dad used to put on his roses.

Beyond the guilt, the other big issue that has been making itself known is anxiety – especially the fear of being alone. It suddenly struck me today that things are getting more and more serious between Frannie and her boyfriend. His mom and aunt are calling her regularly on the phone and she has met most of his family – of course everybody loves her. So Frannie could be moving back to Houston in the next few months to get married. Which, to be clear, would be a good thing. I have always wanted Frannie to have a life of her own, but still…

So, day by day, the battle goes on and along the way I am learning a few things. For example, it is pretty clear to me that Frannie and I have a lot deeper understanding of love than we would have had otherwise. I remember once, a long time ago, telling Frannie while I was helping Janet get cleaned up after a pee accident, “Don’t even consider telling a young man ‘I love you’ unless you would be willing to do this for him.”

By George, I think she has been listening.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when your grief seems overwhelming…

“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 gifts of strength and wisdom that You give so richly to all Your children. But today I want to bless You especially for eyes and ears that are learning to work better and better. Many times when he was among us in the flesh, Jesus talked about needing eyes that can see and ears that can hear. The lessons are hard, but I am learning to develop both. Thank you. Amen.”

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Taking Time, Learning to See

This post describes, my recovery from the loss of my wife to a degenerative neurological condition called Huntington’s Disease. She was healed of this condition when she went to live with our Heavenly Father at 2:30AM, the 10th of January 2021. You can read the announcement here.

Or if you would like to read our story from the beginning, you can start with: How We Got Here…

This week has been spent getting ready for the big move to our new home. We were approved to take possession of the property on the 7th and met with a couple of moving company representatives on Saturday to get quotes.

Frannie will be glad to leave the apartment and the town we’ve been living in for the past several years because there are way too many “ghosts” inhabiting the area – memories of places we frequented with Janet, and things we did in better times. Perhaps, moving is the best thing after all. We need a clean break, and the job is requiring us to make one.

The name of the town is “Mineral Wells,” due to the numerous mineral springs in the area. Back in the day, I guess the area was quite popular for people wanting to “take the waters.” The town has a population of about 17,000, which is about the same size as the town I grew up in.

Another nice confirmation that this will be a good place for us is that I discovered St Mark’s Lutheran Church, only a five- to ten-minute walk from our front door. That is significant, not because we will be going there, but for the name. St Mark’s in Abington, Massachusetts is the first church Janet and I joined after our wedding 35 years ago. And it was also the church where our son was baptized.

I did, however, find the church we will be attending, about a ten minute drive away. It is named Divine Mercy Lutheran, and the services and the people are wonderful. Plus, I really like the name, as “divine mercy” is what is getting me through each day. Thankfully, that is a resource that is in endless supply – all you have to do is ask, and you shall receive.

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A few days ago I was driving and (as people do when they are new to an area) was tuning around on the radio, looking for a good station. I came across a radio program where the people were talking about the tragedy of doctors recommending aborting babies that are “imperfect” in some way. This got me thinking about the birth of our son, so I did something I hardly ever do – I called in.

While on hold, I discovered that the program was on the nationwide Roman Catholic radio network, Relevant Radio. So if you also happened to be listening and heard “Michael from Texas” – yep, that was me. And I even got in a quick plug for HD awareness. In any case, my story was very simple: When Janet was pregnant for the first time, we had an amniocentesis done and the results were not good. They showed the potential for a condition called “trisomy 13.” Babies with this condition are born with very severe deformities that are always fatal. We were told that these babies rarely see six months of age, and that we should abort “it” as soon as possible.

This was a situation Janet and I had not considered, but after calming down from the panic that the doctors had done their best to instill, we made the decision to not abort and that if the baby lived six months, six weeks, or six days, he would be loved every minute of that time.

As I said on the radio, to make a long story short, the tests were wrong. Our son did not have trisomy 13 and if we had gone through with the abortion, as the medical “experts” had advised, we would have killed a perfectly normal, healthy baby – our son who is, today, a Major in the US Army with three daughters of his own.

The point of my telling you this is not really about abortion per se, but the title of this post: Taking Time, Learning to See.

While I was still taking care of Janet, it seemed like every day was filled with the fine details of caring for her, and appropriately so. But one of the things I have had time to do now, as a part of the grieving process, is to slow down and consider the big picture of life – the larger story arcs of the past 35 years. And I have begun to notice some interesting patterns.

For example, people sometimes asked me how I could do what I was doing. It was, after all, clearly taking its toll. To be honest, when I was in the middle of it all, the answers I gave tended to be the kind that resulted in the person not asking that kind of “fool question” again. Now I would be more gentle (I hope) in formulating my response.

When Janet and I met, she was living with the results of growing up with a father that was feeling the effects of undiagnosed Huntington’s Disease. Due to his abusiveness, she had grown hard and cold. She said that the engagement ring I gave her (which had a lot of frilly gold work on it) was the first piece of feminine jewelry she had ever owned. Her choice was between staying stuck in what she grew up with, or with the help of God, moving on. Likewise, I could have looked her over and decided she was a train wreck on two legs. We chose life.

After we were married, we had the choice of following the advice of doctors or accepting whatever happened as a blessing. We chose life.

Finally, when she was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease she still had choices – there are places in the US where it is now legal to murder yourself. But again, we chose life.

Get the point? There was a pattern in our lives together that I had not really seen before. I was much too close to each individual decision to see them as being connected. But now I do. I understand that no decision is ever made in isolation, but forms a part of a pattern that runs throughout our life. I have met people who have had huge shifts in their lives but looking back later realized that their “big change” was part of a larger reality that they hadn’t seen previously.

This is what I meant a bit ago when I talked about the “big picture” or “long story arcs” in our lives. During this grieving process, I have come to see the value in: “Taking Time, Learning to See.” The thing I have discovered with my new vision is a clearer view of who Janet and I both are, and (especially) who God is.

The other arc I have come to recognize is one stretching back generations. There’s my father who, despite the horrific conditions in which he was raised, chose life in the US Army over a probable death in prison. There’s his mother, who, after the death of her first husband, chose life by marrying my grandfather. There’s my great-grandparents who chose life in a new country over war in what is now the Czech Republic. And the story goes on and on.

To be clear, none of the stories were “fairytales” and nobody “lived happily ever after.” They were all, on one level, imperfect and flawed in some way, but they all resulted in something good that led to a new and better future. Which is not too surprising given The Hand that is at work. The hand of a Workman that is an expert at taking broken things and making them beautiful: broken hearts, broken lives, broken homes – even broken worlds.

By examining the bigger picture in which I have a part, I see that even in the times when I didn’t know which way to turn, I was never really lost. Moreover, problem resolution may take decades or even generations, but in the end, hopes are fulfilled and promises are kept.

In Christ, Amen ☩

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A prayer for when you are feeling aimless…

“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 blessings of life. But today I want to bless You especially for Your eternal perspective. It is at times frustrating to have to wait, but by faith I can know that life in Your presence is always brimming over with hope – even when, for a time, I can’t see it. Amen.”