September 12 – “Watch the honeybirds”

We had a chance to do some ministry the other day.  On Sunday a lady stopped in at the church between the Bible study and worship times.  She couldn’t stay, though.  She was just checking on times and such.  She called back the next day and asked if we were “the kind of church that helps people.”  Hmm.  Now that’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.  I told her we do what we can with the resources God gives us, and then I asked her what she needed.  Her only request was for gas in her car so she could get to work.  She was getting paid on Thursday, so she just needed to make it through until then.  I asked where she lived, and found out she lived there in Jamaica Beach.  I told her I would see what I could do, and made a phone call to one of the guys in the church who lives nearby.  Ned was happy to take care of the situation, and he even offered to pick her up some groceries.  She called me on her way to work to say thank you.  She said she was going to try to be at the early Bible study on Sunday, and she hoped to get her teenage sons to come to the youth Bible study Wednesday.  One apparently plays guitar and the other is a drummer.  We could always use some more musicians.  Hope they come tonight.

We had Cailyn for the afternoon yesterday so her Mom could study for a test.  The quest for the day was to “watch the honeybirds” (AKA hummingbirds).  Chris put up one of those simple, cheap hummingbird feeders in the backyard.  We also have several plants with blossoms in several different colors that are attractive to the tiny beasts.  In fact the blooms they seem to prefer are quite patriotic – reds, whites, and blues.  It took a while to get Cailyn settled down enough for the honeybirds to show up, but we did get to watch a show of their antics.  Once Cailyn started climbing the palm tree where the feeder is hung.  She got about half way up when one of the birds showed up.  It was kind of comical to watch him trying to decide whether a drink of sugar water was worth dealing with the huge creature hanging on to the other side of his tree.  Cailyn, meanwhile, was totally oblivious to his presence.  We were all in the back yard when April came to pick up Cailyn.  Mom was even out there.  Very pleasant evening. 

Psalms 28:8-9 says, “The Lord is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.  Save your people and bless your inheritance; be their shepherd and carry them forever.”

Father, thank you for honeybirds and cool evenings and family to share them with.  Amen.

September 11 – “Kicked out of school”

Well, there’s a first.  I can’t say it ever happened to me.  It sure puts her one up one me.  Mom got kicked out of school yesterday.  Let me hasten to explain.  See, there are some things you have to search for humor in so you won’t start crying, right?

We started calling Mom’s experience at Libbie’s Place “School” so Cailyn could better understand when we took her there.  Yesterday Libbie’s Place called about mid-morning and asked if we could come pick Mom up.  It’s happened before.  She reaches a point where she refuses to participate in any of the activities.  She sleeps all the time.  Of course she does.  She has to rest up so she can stay up all night and play with Chris.  OK.  Play is not the right word by any means. Her routine is to start getting up around 1 a.m., and she stays up until almost 5.  Then she takes a brief nap and is up for breakfast by 7 or so.  It’s like breakfast has become a late-night snack.  She does her best sleeping in the morning. 

Which brings us back to Libbie’s Place.  If Mom won’t participate in any of the activities, that means she needs someone to deal with just her.  They aren’t equipped staff or equipment-wise to handle her, or anyone, one on one.  So they said it was best if we removed her from the program.  They gave us a list of possible private duty nurses and aides that we could call to help us out at home.  Not that Chris would allow just anybody to do that.  I’m sure we’ll just further curtail our activities and put Nathan and April on standby.  Maybe this will inspire our other sitter to recover faster from her ankle surgery (Come on, Jennifer).

Mom is also not drinking very much during the day.  Chris is doing her best to really push the fluids.  Oh, and last night was especially disconcerting.  The last time she got up, without her walker of course, she walked right past the bathroom and our bedroom.  When Chris got up to check on her, she had taken a tumble in the den.  She insisted that she had just sat down and missed the couch, but she did have some bruises on her arm and knee and even her face.  Of course that made Chris feel bad for not getting to her in time.  I assured Chris that it was not her fault.  After all, I didn’t even hear anything.  She had to come get me to help get Mom up.  Chris understands that, but it still doesn’t make the whole experience any easier.  I guess getting kicked out of school is the next phase in Mom’s approach to heaven.  And from that perspective, it’s a good thing.

Psalms 73:25-26 says, “Whom have I in heaven but you?  And earth has nothing I desire besides you.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

Father, we trust you.  Take care of Mom in this next step.  Amen.

September 10 – “Romantic?”

Josh and his family showed up at church yesterday.  Well, we knew they were thinking about coming.  They had been spending the weekend with some friends at a beach house in Surfside, and since Seaside was only twenty minutes away, they decided to stop in on the old grandparents.  Actually they were going into Galveston anyway for some lunch and a trip to Murdoch’s souvenir shop, so it wasn’t out of their way.

It was great to see them.  Kind of frustrating, though, to have the church responsibilities and not be able to just hang out with them.  But it was so good to look over and see their faces.  Of course Caleb didn’t let a little thing like church propriety stand in the way of DadDad time.  He came over and talked with me during several of the songs.  And that talk was random, if nothing else.  The thing he appeared most excited to tell me involved bombs.  Yes, bombs.  Here it is:

“DadDad, did you know bombs go, beep, beep, beep (speeding up) beepbeepbeep.  And then they go Boom?”  The “Boom” was even somewhat subdued in volume for a three year old.  But he didn’t stop there. 

“Oh, and DadDad, volcanoes go Boom, too.”  That was one I would like to have followed up on, but I had to start the sermon about that time.  My guess is Zakary studied volcanoes in one of his home school lessons and Caleb was paying close attention. 

After church we were presented with Grandparents Day cards.  Actually they were Grandparents Day creations.  Zak and Caleb had each drawn pictures – one for me and one for Chris.  Zak’s to Chris showed Nani serving muffins and Zakary at the table ready to eat them, saying, “Yummy muffins.”  His creation to me was rather intricate.  It recalled their last visit here when we took a ferry ride.  The caption read (Christi always adds what they said to describe the picture), “Feeding seagulls pancakes off of DadDad’s head on the ferry boat.”  Yes, we really did that.  The picture was amazing, too.  There I was with a pancake on my head.  Two gigantic seagulls were swooping down at me.  Frightening.  Out in the water some dolphins were playing, while Caleb and Mommy watched from a safe distance … inside.  Caleb’s picture to me was kind of funny.  The caption was, “A Silly DadDad goose.”  Now hay he would call me that, I can’t imagine.  Chris was there, too.  She was standing on her head.  Hmm.  The picture he did for Chris really took the cake, though.  There was Chris and I, holding hands.  Very romantic.  Standing nearby was a figure designated “Camera man.”  Interesting.  The caption definitely got a reaction from all who read it.  Christi said he was insistent about it, so there was no mistake.  Ready for this one?  “Nani and DadDad holding each other’s bodies and kissing on their wedding day.”  Told you it was romantic.

Psalms 28:7 says, “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped.  My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song.”

Father, if I could sing I would make up a song about those grandkids you blessed us with.  Thank you.  Amen.

September 9 – “Not a single crab”

Not a bad day at all yesterday.  Never a bad day when you get to take a few hours and go fishing.  I saw on the Weatherbug live camera feed set up at the San Luis that the beachfront was relatively calm, so I pulled on my fishing garb and headed on out to my wade fishing spot in front of WalMart.  Grabbed some bait first from Tucker’s Bait Shop on 61^st Street.  When it’s available they always have good sized live shrimp.  Yesterday was no exception.

I wondered a bit at first whether the day would be productive.  The current was kind of strong and the waves were entering from the Mexico side rather than the Mississippi River side, so things seemed a little off.  Then the first catch was a hardhead catfish, never a good sign.  Things began to look up, though, with the first speckled trout, and even though I had to release a few that were too small, I ended up keeping eight specks.  That’s my favorite seafood, so I thought I’d start with them.  I kept some of the whiting that saw fit to grace the end of the line.  They are nothing special to eat, but they do make good “fried fish McNuggets.” 

At one point a wave of ladyfish came through.  They are very small, long and skinny fish that think they are tarpon.  They hit the line with extreme force and fight the hook by leaping into the airs every chance they get.  They are kind of fun to reel in, but they don’t make good bait and they are certainly not worth eating. 

I hooked a red.  Definitely keeper size.  But as I attempted to transfer him into the live well he slipped out of my hands and I could do naught but wave as he slowly swam away.  Sad.  I hooked another one later on, though.  Much bigger than that first.  He made no less than five strong runs where he took off against the drag on my reel.  I got him up close enough to me that I could see he was a big one.  But about that time he took off on run number six and summarily broke the line.  Very sad.  Tough to lose one like that. 

I had quite an assortment of fish fry potential when I got down to the last two tiny little shrimp in my bait bucket.  They were both dead by this time, so I hooked them up and tossed them out for the last cast of the day.  Even that cast came back fruitful.  A little croaker was hooked by all three barbs of the treble.  I got him off, and on a whim, I rehooked him on his back and dropped him into the water to swim around while I got everything together to head home.  Of course, since I wasn’t paying close attention, as I let go of him I also let go of the reel with my thumb and a backlash spun into existence.  That took a while to correct, but I finally pulled out the last of it and began reeling in.  And when I reached the point of being able to feel the tug of my little croaker, I realized at once that the force on the other end of the line was more than that little croaker could produce. 

Sure enough, as soon as I felt that initial tug, the line tightened and the drag kicked in with a buzz.  Croaker for bait made me hope for the best, and the way the fight began led me to believe that I had just received an unprecedented third chance at landing a red fish.  I decided to fight this one differently that the other two.  I started backing toward the shore so I would have the advantage when the fight drew to its end.  It was indeed a good battle.  He made several good runs as I backed closer and closer to the beach.  He finally began to tire and I was able to get him close enough to muscle him onto the sand.  As I moved over to put him into the net, the line broke.  Too late for him, I’m afraid.  He was beached.  Very nice size.  Not really a bull, but at the upper end of keeper size.  Just right for a barbeque or to bake up with some lemon and spices. 

As often happens, I had an audience for that final fight.  A man and lady on bicycles had stopped to watch the action and see what I pulled in.  They congratulated me warmly and continued on.  Another lady walked up as I was loading up the truck.  Her question?  “Did you catch any crabs?”  Wait.  What?  Crabs?  I chuckled and told her no, that I had been fishing.  She frowned her disappointment and didn’t even care to look at the fish.  Wow.  Perspective is everything, I guess.

Psalms 27:13-14 says, “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

Father, thank you for providing some more food for my family.  And on that perspective thing … give me yours.  Amen.

September 8 – “Silverware gig”

Mom hit the obsessive Alzheimer’s type behavior hot and heavy night before last.  From just after midnight to around five AM she was up and hard at work in the kitchen.  Chris got up with her to make sure she didn’t fall.  Under Chris’ watchful eye Mom began a series of behaviors that were so strange that even the nurse in Chris was fascinated. 

Mom began by tapping her fingers all along the counter tops, partly to maintain her balance I guess, but the tapping seemed to be deliberate, like she was carefully considering her next moves.  She opened and closed drawers.  Once or twice she removed all the spoons and placed them in meticulous order on the counter.  Then she gathered them all up and took them over to the sink.  Chris thought maybe she was going to wash them, but she then returned them to their spot in the drawer.  She occasionally stopped to turn the water on, and even washed her hands a time or two.  She also tried her hand at refrigerator inspection five or six times. 

Chris did step in as she usually does and tried to get her to return to bed.  Like when the refrigerator started its customary beeping noise to indicate the door has been left open.  One time Chris blocked a drawer so Mom couldn’t open it, so Mom just pulled at it again and again.  Chris said she was afraid she’d have a bruise on her hip before Mom finally moved on to the next drawer.  Then she returned to the formerly blocked one and was amazed that it actually opened.  Chris was finally able to get her back in bed by 5:15, but Mom was back awake again around 7:30 as if she had slept all night.  Sure hope that night was the exception rather than the rule.

Speaking of spoons, when Cailyn was here and she and I were sitting at the table enjoying some food, “that look” came over her face that says, “I have an idea.”  In fact she actually said, “DadDad, I have an idea.”  I replied with my usual, “I can’t wait,” as she jumped up from the table and ran to the kitchen.  She returned with no less than two spoons and two forks.  Grinning, she proceeded to explain, “See, DadDad.  We can be a band.”  I was presented with a fine set of forks as if there was no question at all as to what I was supposed to do with them.  Happily, she began the jam session by closing her eyes, leaning her head back, tossing her hair, and … banging her spoons together.  As soon as I got the beat, I joined in with my forks.  She occasionally added new sounds, like a crack to the table (which I recommended against since it would leave a Mark that Nani would surely see), or to her plate (which was, thankfully, made of plastic and designed to handle much worse, I’m sure).  We sounded pretty good, if I do say so myself (and I must because no one else heard us).   Maybe we could somehow incorporate Mom’s countertop tapping … Hmm.  See me later if you want to schedule a gig.

Psalms 27:11 says, “Teach me your way, O Lord; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.”

Father, I don’t know about the oppressor part, but I could sure use your teaching.  My way doesn’t usually turn out so god.  Amen.

September 7 – “Cinnamon spooning”

Chris had made some of those big cinnamon rolls for breakfast.  Not the small ones that come eight to the package.  These only have room for five of them.  And they come with lots of icing.  Can’t get too much icing.  Just saying.  You can smell them all over the house as they get closer and closer to being ready.  And they are scrumptious when they first come out of the oven.  Warm, just a little bit crunchy around the edges and soft in the middle.  Oozing with cinnamon and dripping with icing. 

By the time Cailyn arrived, I had long since savored every last bite of mine.  Not wanting her to miss out on the experience (even though they had cooled off quite a bit and had lost some of that initial fresh-out-of-the-oven appeal), I handed Cailyn one.  Eagerly she ran over to the silverware drawer, obviously anxious to begin a culinary experience of her own.  She reached in and first emerged with a fork, but suddenly that “look” came across her face.  The look that says, “Ooh, I have an idea.”  The look that parents usually dread, but grandparents like me live for because you never know what’s coming next.  She dropped the fork in favor of a spoon.

I had to ask.  “Why a spoon?  Wouldn’t a fork be easier?”

Without hesitation she blurted, “No, DadDad.  Watch this.”  She carried her plate over to the table.  Glancing at me to make sure I was paying close attention, she took the spoon in her hand.  She whispered one last time, “Watch, it, DadDad.”  And finally she began.  She proceeded to eat the center out of the roll, bite by bite, using the spoon to scoop it out.  And the best part of it all?  She flashed a smile at me with every bite, like we were the only two humans on the face of the earth privy to this secret knowledge that would surely change the course of history were it to get out.  Watching Cailyn made me wish I had another one so I could try it that way, too.  That’s one way to get around eating the crusty part.  She continued until the only thing left was a … well, it was a donut, actually.  And that revelation made her laugh.  She decided to save the donut so she could show it Nani. 

Hmm.  Maybe we can try it with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich next.

Psalms 27:7-8 says, “Hear my voice when I call, O Lord; be merciful to me and answer me.  My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"  Your face, Lord, I will seek.”

Father, help me to recognize you face when you show it.  Amen.

September 6 – “A three-year-old’s spin on lawyers and wills”

I had one of those awesome opportunities to spend a few hours of uninterrupted Cailyn - DadDad time yesterday.  Her Dad was at work and her Mom was in school.  MeeMaw was at Libbie’s Place and Chris was at a meeting.  That left just the two of us.  It was kind of confusing to Cailyn at first.  She had to gather all the facts before she could start her day comfortably.

“Where’s Nani?” she asked when she suddenly realized that Chris was nowhere to be found.

“She went to look at some papers with a lawyer,” I replied, trying to give just enough information, but not too much as to overwhelm her.  I wasn’t sure she would get the concept of “lawyer,” but it was already out of my mouth so I let it go.

“What papers?” she answered, ignoring the word of my worries and moving right to something she could handle.

Struggling to keep it simple, yet revealing the anxiety of my own train of thought, I replied, “The kind of papers that talk about … what they call her mommy’s “will.”  Rats.  I did it again.  She’ll never get what a will is.  Now how will I ever communicate the concept of a will to a three-year-old?  Was I really ready to discuss death?  I dreaded her response as she thought about it for a few long moments.  Finally she looked up at me and with a quizzical expression on her face declared, “Well, I call my mommy, ‘Mommy.’” 

And there you have it.  That’s what’s really important, anyway.  Not lawyers and wills.  Just papers and … Mommy.  Not strangers and uncertain futures.  Just opportunities to create and relationships to deepen.  Not frustration and death.  Just peace and life.  Best sermon I have heard in a long, long time.  Wish I could communicate like that on Sunday mornings. 

Psalms 27:5 says, “For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.”

Father, thank you for your promise of ultimate protection and peace.  Sure helps to remember that when it comes to keeping priorities in order.  Amen.