Sunday, March 30, 2025

More Best

 



 

When my friend Megan and I were roommates for a season of life, one of the phrases that came out of that time was “more best.”  I preface this by noting that both of us love words and grammar.  The wonky grammar is part of what makes it funny.  She and I were chatting in my room and I had a pile of clean sheets, fresh out of the dryer, ready to go back on my bed.  I hugged the warm sheets, took a big inhale, and said, “Isn’t this the best?”

Megan’s eyes lit up.  She broke into a huge smile and replied, “You know what would be even more best?”

She then wrapped the warm sheet around her body like a cocoon, closed her eyes, and grinned from ear to ear.  It was indeed, more best.

 

This is a picture of God.

Ephesians chapter 3 ends with Paul’s prayer that his readers would understand the vast dimensions of God’s love.  How wide and long, and high and deep, is the love of Christ.  Then he worships God for who He is: 

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.  Amen!” -Ephesians 3: 20 & 21

The one and only God of the universe is a more best God.

In less than a month, I will celebrate how God was more best in Megan’s story.  I get to be a bridesmaid when she marries, Sam, a man who goes beyond what Megan asked or imagined.  She asked and she imagined for a long time before she met him.  It took patience, trust, and hope.  And now, celebration and exhaling into the beautiful answer.

I married a more best man; also beyond what I asked for or imagined.  When I’m worried and reviewing all the ways things could go wrong, he occasionally says, “But what if it’s really good?”

Of course, goodness is an outcome we can expect as deeply loved followers of God!  Even in the crappiest of situations, we have guidance and help and the power of the Holy Spirit for all who believe Him.  Romans 8:28 says God works everything for good for those who love Him and have been called according to His purpose.  There’s another level of goodness – of best – that’s possible because God is good beyond our imaginings.

I hope you can wrap yourself in that.

 

 

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Tuesday, May 28, 2024

Memory Loss Milestones



 

Having a mom with dementia has been a journey of slow grief, but also with pockets of unexpected richness and joy.  There are landmarks, like when she stopped driving, stopped cooking, and a sad one – stopped reading.  The dementia milestone I’ve long feared is the day when my mom wouldn’t recognize me anymore.  Thinking about that probability has always brought tears and a panicky feeling in my chest.  What will I do when my mom doesn’t know me anymore?

 

I’ve experienced a version of this event before.  My paternal grandmother had Alzheimer’s.  I remember my mom making photo flashcards for Grandma Elaine and laminating them with the person’s name below each photo.  The idea was that any visitor or caregiver at the nursing home could either quiz her or just spark up conversation about loved ones.  Understandably, she didn’t like to be quizzed on people or events, so the cards became just friendly faces near her bedside.  When she didn’t know me anymore, Grandma Elaine called me “that doll”.  I accepted the new nickname as a term of endearment and didn’t push her to remember that I was related.  One time, my dad also visited while I was at Grandma’s nursing home.  He stood in the doorway and said hello.  In an exaggerated whisper, Grandma Elaine said with suspicion in her voice, “That man comes around here an awful lot!”  My dad and I laughed.  I said, “Well, I think it’s because he’s your son!  You gave birth to him!”  She broke into giggles, “Oh!  Okay!”

 

This past weekend, for Memorial Day, my husband, kids, and I drove five hours to my parents’ cabin on the beach.  We had a great time with extended family.  My mom needed a reminder of my son’s name, but otherwise seemed pretty clear-minded.  The tide was way out, so I dragged some chairs and beach toys down the hill so my mom and I could sit while the kids played in the sand.  My sons and husband explored the rocks, finding little live crabs to hold and show us.  I brought my book, thinking I would read for a while.  I started to read quietly on my own, then thought of what a voracious reader my mom used to be.  Sometimes, she would read a book in one day.  Dementia has made reading difficult and it’s been a long time since she’s successfully enjoyed a book.  So, I decided to be her audio book.  I told her it was an author’s story of making bread and how God taught her things in the process. Then I read the pages out loud so she could join in.  It was a really sweet moment, being outside, watching the waves, having the kids shriek with crabs tickling their little hands, and enjoying a book with my mom.  She commented on parts that connected with her experience, like growing up Catholic and the process of receiving Eucharist.  We usually don’t know what to talk about because she remembers so little of her present life.

 

I always thought the moment of my mom not knowing me would be this solid turning point.  Like, she’d have no idea who I was and it would be very traumatizing.  That’s not what happened.  We were reading on the beach and she pointed to my two year old daughter, out in front of us, squatting on the tide flats, collecting creatures in a bucket. 

 

“Who does she belong to?,” my mom asked, “Who’s raising that little girl?”

 

“I am,” I said, “That’s my daughter.”

 

My mom smiled at me and said, “Well, that’s nice.  You must be doing a good job.”

 

“Well, I grew up with a good mother, so that helps,” I said.

 

“Oh?  You did?  That’s good.  That little girl says such clever things.  My kids never said all those clever things.”

I laughed and gently smacked her arm, “Hey!  I’m one of your kids!”

 

She laughed too, “Oh!  Well, I certainly don’t remember it being as clever as what she says!”

 

We continued having a nice time on the beach.  Later, my mom knew me as her daughter and recalled some stories.  It wasn’t a sharp turning point.  It was a moment, and the moment was lighthearted, not a stab of grief.  I wasn’t expecting it to be gentle like that.

 

I recognize that there’s more to come; probably harder transitions, including stopping knowing me altogether and other events that may be much, much more challenging.  I don’t want to pre-grieve anymore though.  I was wrong about how this one turned out, and I feel like I wasted grief in imagining the event well before it occurred.  My mom is not the same, but she is with me.  I’ll keep praying for God’s help and healing, I’ll keep reaching out for relationship with my parents, I’ll keep trying to adjust and receive her as she is now.  Whether she knows me or not, I plan to come around an awful lot.

 

 

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