First Christmas in Heaven

I made Mom's glazed cookies this week.

The round ones which our grands have dubbed Oma cookies,

taste like a little chocolate cake incased in meringue icing.

The elongated ones are slightly spiced and filled with plum jam.

There's not many things that make me feel her absence as

much as when I make her cookies,

remembering how she rolled, cut and pinched ...

her hands wrinkled, nails cut short,

deftly filling pans, 

later to glaze them all, late into the evening. 

As I went down this memory lane,

 I saw the years I'd take her shopping for a dress

around the week of her birthday,

which we would be celebrating this weekend.

She always apologized that her birthday was so close to Christmas,

"when you are all busy!"

But she also loved getting a new dress.

Such wonderful memories that come packed into this month

truly make one want to know,

what Christmas in heaven is like. 

I listened to the song that the Clark family sings,

and you can imagine my tears...

imagine her in the choir,

and maybe even in the kitchen,

glazing, melt in your mouth cookies.

So I'll share the lyrics to Christmas in Heaven, written by 

Paul Marino and Jeremy Johnson

Maybe you have a loved one or two

whom you are missing this Christmas.

Know that one day the waiting will be over,

and there will be no more tears,

December hasn't changed

This town looks the same

They still light that tree in the city square

There's red, white and green shining everywhere

And I wish, you were here

And I wonder

Is the snow falling down on the streets of gold

Are the mansions all covered in white

Are you singing with angels, "Silent Night"

I wonder what Christmas in heaven is like.

There's a little manger scene

Down on Third and Maine

I must have walked right by it a thousand times

But I see it now in a different light

'Cause I know you are there

And I wonder

Are you kneeling with shepherds before Him now

Can you reach out and touch His face

Are you part of that glorious Holy Night

I wonder what Christmas in Heaven is like

Is the snow falling down on the streets of gold?

Are the mansions all covered in white?

Are you singing with angels "Silent Night"

I wonder what Christmas in Heaven is like.

🤍🤍🤍

Earth's Final Resting Place

Yesterday was the day that would have, in years gone by, 

 brought me to tears just thinking about it.

However, as the day dawned glorious and sunny,

it felt like all of heaven was rejoicing.

We drove caravan style behind the funeral coach to the cemetery.

Six grandsons carried their Oma to her final resting place.

We gathered to listen to words of hope given by the pastor from Mom's church.

Mom's children, grandchildren, great-granchildren,

extended family and some of Abe's family.

A somber time, yet a reality of life. 

The song by Chris Tomlin played 

while everyone had a chance to say a final "auf wiedersehen" 

and place a rose on the casket.

I will post the words to this amazing song.

There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain

I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

'Till we meet again, mom,

I love you!

❤❤❤

At Home in Heaven

After a 7 year battle with Alzheimer's, my mom slipped away from us on Sunday afternoon. Her life was one of joy and sorrow meeting time and again, but her faith remained constant in the One who led her all the way! Oh, how beautiful heaven must be for her now! Auf wiedersehen to a mom, Oma and great-Oma who loved well and was well loved! 

I will write more in days to come. I'm just not there right now. This is just to give a glimpse into these days. I so much appreciate knowing that even my blogging friends have come to love her. 
 

Be Still my Soul

These little visits in her room, 

walks down the hall and peeks into the dining room, 

are true reality checks on the brevity of life 

and the wonders of everyday abilities that I want to be grateful for. 

Last week Monika and I visited in Mom's room for a few hours.

Mom never said a word, 

but sharing the intimate space with her

filled the room with feelings that can hardly be expressed. 

I cannot say 

how many times we have said that 'possibly last earthly goodbye',

but if she was able to soak in the sweet aroma 

of her daughters' sentiments, 

reminding her of who she is, what she has believed

and of the hope we share,  

it was the only gift that truly matters.

❤❤❤

Be still, my soul, The Lord is on thy side

Bear patiently, the cross of grief or pain

Leave to thy God, to order and provide

In every change, He faithful will remain

Be still, my soul, thy best thy heavenly friend

Through thorny ways, leads to a joyful end

Be still, my soul, thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as He has the past

Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake

All now mysterious shall be bright at last

Be still, my soul, the waves and wind still know

His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below

Be still, my soul, the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord

When disappointment, grief and fear are gone

Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored

Be still, my soul, when change and tears are past

All safe and blessed, we shall meet at last

Originally a German hymn written by 

Katharina von Schlegel (1697-1768)

translated in 1855 by Jane Borthwick 

 

A Year Later at Mom's Home

In March 2020 my H and I visited mom over lunch time and 

at the end of our visit carefully expressed that we may not be able to see her for some time.

Of course, no one had any idea of any real "ifs" and how long!

I can't let my thoughts go on to wonder what she has felt. 

Last week I received a call from her home 

to say that I could sign up for my vaccination to be her essential visitor.

I got vaccinated. 

And more good news ...

I do not need to make an appointment to see her.

So today I simply went and rang the doorbell,

put on the full PPE gear and was escorted up the elevator.

Once in her room I could take off the face shield,

which made it so much nicer.

It's been a long time ...

and all I wanted was to hold her hand,

put my face near hers, speak while looking at her eyes ...

I got it all and more ... 

a look of "how nice to see you!" 

which brought tears to my eyes right off the bat. 

A few "ya" responses, listening to music, praying, reading her Bible and lunch, 

all in the comfort of her neat and tidy room. 

I can't even express how grateful we are for her amazing caregivers.

As I leafed through her Bible I found little notes tucked inside,

notes and underlined verses that tell so much about her.

In this particular note it seemed to me she had jotted down thoughts to share

before singing somewhere.

This is who she was and is, self taught in English writing as an adult and

determined not to let a new language stop her.

Today it's stacks of CDs and a player for caregivers to turn on.

Her way of sharing what's meaningful to her

even while her voice is gone.

❤❤❤

The Fence Visit

 As I've been mulling over my visit with mom,

I've realized how she's come to the stage of the disease 

that I knew was coming, but could not bear to think about.

Add Covid 19 distancing ... and it can just break your heart.

As I've read about the seven stages of Alzheimer's 

- ironically taking over the past seven years as well - 

I've pictured her in each of them. 

From undetectable,

to telling me she was forgetting things, while I thought it normal.

I laughed that she missed her appoinment at the Memory Specialist.

Next came some unexpected habit breaking -
due to her inability to create order,

everything was a mess around her.

Telling her what time I'd pick her up was immediately forgotten.

There were frustrations on both sides,

because this was not really her.

She knew .... and she thought she was disappointing us.

Stage five, she needed help dressing

and it just got to be too much trouble, so she didn't bother,

having no sense of season or what was appropriate.
Pictures and mirrors played tricks with her -

causing illusions of time and circumstances to confuse her more.

To my dear mom, it was torture. 

It was probably around stage six when we moved her,

with no recollection of where she had come from.

She moved into a wheelchair, had to be fed, 

bathed and put to bed by a Care Aide. 

There were still times she laughed,

found the words of familiar hymns,

and told me that she loved me.

This year has brought her to the final stage. 

I read for more ... but there is no more.

Except for what I know to be true,

a sense of anticipation for her,

to know that her next stage is release from this earthly tent,

and a home prepared in heaven.

Yes, we grieve, but not as though we have no hope.

I was so happy to see Julene and Kristal join me on Friday afternoon.

 Monika and Rosie came as well.

We sang, we prayed for her, we laughed and we cried.

 So good, that each of us knows who she really is

and what a blessing she has been to us. 

 Every once in a while she'd look up ...

she seemed to love good laghter

and songs from way back brought a distant yearning to her eyes.

We all struggle with why certain things happen ...

this is life, imperfect and temporal.

Our only hope is to look to what is eternal.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror,

then we shall see face to face.

Now I know in part, then I shall know fully,

even as I am fully known.

1. Corinthians 13: 12

Mother's Day Reflections

Our kids invited us over for pizza at the lake on Friday night.

I was blessed with togetherness ... the sound of laughter, beautiful smiles, 

heaps of homemade cards and flower bouquets.

Then today, I'm not sure what happened but, I just have to say ...

I missed my mom ... with tears flowing for all the moments that I wish I could hug her for! 

Going down memory lane of the Mother's Days we've shared with her,
strangely makes me aware of the seasons played out even in relationships.

I remember Mother's Day as a child, when the focus was on a special program at church.

Verses and songs were memorized. Each mother got a flower. 

Mothers  also cooked the family dinner.

As I child I never imagined any other way.

In later years, my dad took the whole family, including the grandchildren, 

out for a Mother's Day lunch. 

A splurge he never indulged in when we were young. 

It was truly our summer season as an extended family.

There were the years mom and I would plant flowers on this weekend ... 

for always now reminding me of her love for flower pots.

One year on Mother's Day weekend she flew down to Phoenix with me for a four generation visit.

Another Mother's Day was celebrated in a most unique way with her engagement to Abe.

My memory lane of actual photos has many of more recent years, 

when we realized that we were entering a new season. 

We took a photo on the bridge in 2015 and I noticed there was something different. 

She grabbed my hand in a way that was unusual and, as sweet as it sounds, 

I felt an inexplicable change about her. 

We began to spend a lot more time together, 

just to enjoy time around the table and listenting to her stories.

Two years ago, on Mother's Day was the first time I fed her. 

One year ago, I brought her a large bouquet of flowers, because I could.

This year she's been behind locked doors for two months.  No one has ventured to explain to her the reason for the changes ... and I wonder what she wonders when she cannot ask? It pains me not to be able imagine what's on her mind and heart ... in this her winter. A time when the warmth of presence and touch to communicate have all but been taken as well.

What I have come to know is, that no matter how long we have our loved ones with us, it will never be long enough. Going back to Ecclesiastes where my blog theme comes from, there is a verse that says,

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end." Ecclesiastes 3:11

Is this why we do not want to say goodbye? Is this longing for life something in our very being, put there by the One who made us? It's a mystery we may not understand until that day when everything will be made right by the one who also holds eternity in His hands. 

I pray that God speaks to her and blesses her in ways we cannot imagine, strengthening  her in her inner being with sweet dreams and truths about the now and the not yet. Until then, I love you, Mom. 

♡♡♡

A Special Day

Today Mom is 85!

She used to apologize that we had to fuss about her birthday

so close to Christmas ...

never being one to expect anything.

I think back over the years we celebrated -

my favorite being the times when Monika and I took her shopping -

she'd be giddy with excitement about trying on clothes

and we could tell when she felt beautiful in something new. 

Five years ago the grandchildren surprised her 

with a Perishky baking party -

nothing that she would have enjoyed more

than showing them how.

It was, I think, if we could ask her, 

one of her favorite birthdays

and one of her last times fully there, 

before the fog settled in.

I've been thinking about what it would be like

if we could have "her" back for a day ...

sneak up on her in her kitchen,

singing as she works.

How would I plan out the day with her?

What would we do? 

What would I ask her?

I try again and again, to come up with the perfect day ...

to have her roll out one more dough with me,

to share her favorite muffin and coffee,

to listen to her stories.

To have her ask questions about the family,

 to tell her about what the kids are doing -

what is happening in our lives,

the hard things and the sweet things.

... and I realize a day would not suffice.

We have all these wonderful memories that 

take up decades of time.

That is our gift.

And one day we will have eternity -

to catch up on these few missing years.

I love you, Mom

♡♡♡

Feeding Mom

Recently I was talking to mom's doctor about the surprise changes that came about last month. At the beginning of October she had a seizure and resulting set back, having us all think that her time to go had possibly come. The doctor put her on palliative care for about a week, with the care aides monitoring her closely for any positive changes. The changes came and they slowly were able to feed her again and get her up. Caring is what they do.

In the meantime, I feel so sorry for mom having to sit there day after day with no knowledge of what is going on. Her doctor said to me that obviously there is a reason for God still keeping her here. She noted that the staff sees our visits, our care for her and what we can bring into the equation is something we possibly do not realize. I wish so. 

When I sit down to feed mom I will often quietly say a familiar German table grace with her. One that I know she knows but cannot say anymore. This will usually bring a smile of recognition from her. We do what we can to bring back a memory and to do what we know she would do. One resident, sitting across the table, said to me, "Can you do that to me too?" I asked her what she meant and she said something like, "tell me what you said to her." I told her that it was a prayer of thanks for the food.

Slowly I am realizing that mealtimes are a good time to interact with residents and care givers. Some of them still can carry a conversation while others just show a nostalgic kind of recognition at the mother / daughter bond. I laugh with the care aides about the antics going on, also noticing how patient they are. How can I make a difference? And then I realize how my mom is doing just that, a witness of the peace she has even in her silence. While other residents complain, don't eat, look miserable, play with their food and shout, she quietly eats every bite given to her. She goes through this hardship with such grace ... It's as though even unconsciously she lives and breathes the faith that has sustained her through life. It's amazing, humbling and something for me to grasp. God has a reason. 

Flowers and Music for Mom

It was after lunch when my brother

 let me know he was coming out to see mom.

We ended up getting to the home at the same time

and it was precious to see her face when she

recognized him - more so his voice, I think.

He serenaded her with a favorite German song that tweaked a memory for her

and it was so beautiful to see her face light up.

I had a hard time fighting off tears.

 These moments are getting more rare, and as I ponder them,

I'm always wishing I could see inside her mind ...

see what she knows, when words fail her.

 My sister came later, due to an accident on the highway,

but again I see mom's joy comes from deep within. 

Even as her mind goes dim

and she cannot do a thing for herself,

on this day we thanked God for her 

with flowers and a song,

because we could. 

♡♡♡

Happy Birthday, Mom

Last Sunday, a couple of days before her birthday, 

Monika and I, with our hubbies, went to see mom at her home

to celebrate her 84th Birthday.

In years gone by, she felt bad that her birthday was so close to Christmas.

It was not that she felt sorry for herself, 

but for those of us who wanted to make it special ...

"when it's such a busy time."

Since she gets her food pureed now,

we decided to bring cookies to dunk in coffee.

A peppermint cookie may or may not have brought back some familiarity,

but we know she enjoyed the time around the table 

in the company of son-in-laws who still make her laugh. 

On her actual birthday, 

Monika and I had not planned to meet there, but we did.

Sometimes we try hard to make her smile for a picture.

The truth is, 

I want to guard others from seeing her with her strange expression.

And yet, this is what I've come to understand ...
she wants to smile

but most of the time, no matter how hard she tries,

something is off.

I believe she knows it has something to do with her mouth,

but her brain is forgetting how to send the smile signal to those muscles.

Strange, how simple things we do so naturally

still need a clear command and follow through.

On the other hand, 

it shows the complexity of how we are made.

So marvelously created. 

We have made new memories with mom this year

and I'm thankful for the peace and contentment she expresses. 

Happy Birthday to my smiling mom!

♡♡♡

I Will Carry You

On this visit, as is normal now, nothing she said made sense. She used words but they did not have meaning. I leaned in close, but had to pretend I understood. So I decided to read a verse that a friend shared with me recently ... from Isaiah 46:4

...  and she said, "That is beautiful!" I read it again and she said, "I like that!"

It's a mystery to me how God's Word has the power to open her mind ... but I will take it and be comforted to know that we cannot underestimate what she understands.

It's Changing Me

I have long stopped trying to fix or correct my mom. The days of feeling like, surely I can help her remember, I can help her by organizing her, she knows these things, she only needs reminding, are not feelings I fight any more and it's a good thing, because it only frustrated both of us.

As time went on, we saw a lot of funny things happening.  Repeated discussions about the lady in the mirror, the people on the wall who had moved into her apartment, the outfits she put together and what food belonged in the fridge.  Scenarios that made me laugh and made me cry. Mostly they made me sad.

So where are we today? We enjoy the small things. Such as when she holds fast to my hand, when she communicates something, when she sings along with a song, when looks at me in recognition or shows excitement in any way.

It can happen that I can go from feeding Jack, enjoying his smirks and antics, to getting in the car to feed my mom in the home, and I can't help but contemplate the reversal of roles. To recognize that there was a time when she fed me. She talked to me and made me smile even when she could not understand my gibberish. She cared for me with utmost love, even if she got nothing in return.

So now it is my turn. I stare at her as I put the spoon to her mouth. Sometimes I study her features, so familiar to me, willing her old self to shine through, not wanting to forget. And then I remember what a good mom she has been to me. It puts perspective to everything a season. And, in a strange way, I appreciating what I had even more. I'm realizing how blessed I've been and that it is a blessing to serve her.

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

Mom's been in a home for about 6 months now.  She had no problems getting settled but I found it hard to see how quickly she went downhill. I think we expected it, but it still gave way to a whole new learning curve and many questions.

At this time I appreciate that she has grown into a good routine.  The caregivers have come to see her sweet side.  I keep wishing they could have known her how she was and pray that they will treat her with kindness when I know it must not always be easy. She has a hard time understanding simple commands, such as sit down or open your mouth etc. She needs as much care as a baby and that is a task I admire the care aides for.

The interesting thing is that not once has she asked to go "home." She has expressed joy in seeing us and a yearning or longing she's had, but mostly she accepts whatever comes. I marvel at how she does not complain and she never begs us to stay longer. It makes it easy to go for a quick visit more often.

So this is what I've done. Sometimes it's basically just a good-night hug. I appreciate that her room is tidy and clean and, if I come too late, she's been tucked in with hymns playing on her CD player. I love that they have come to know that this is the best medication for her. There are times she has surprised me by saying my name. We hold hands and sing along with the hymns. Sometimes I read through a list of her favorite Bible verses, most of which she will finish by memory, if I stop.

I can't express how good it feels to see her comfort in the words she memorized so long ago and it amazes me to see the lasting value of a faith she has clung to, not only in word, but in practice. Recently I was brave enough to ask her is she wanted to pray and without any hesitation, with eyes staring about, she went into a prayer, praising our "Almighty Heavenly Father" that He never leaves us alone ... and then her words faded ... but with that one sentence she put me to shame.

I miss who she was, but am so encouraged to still see glimpses of it and know that one day she will be whole and well again. The Lord Almighty is with her - He will never leave her.

Dear Mom

"Mother's Day weekend," you always said 

"is the best time to get the flower pots done."

... and it became a date, 

precious time spent watching and doing.

Reasons why I cannot help but think of you now 

as I move soil around to stuff a geranium 

or

as I roll pastry, chop apples, peel peaches,

pour hot jam into jars

and cook frosting just like yours.

How is it that I can miss you so - while you're still here?

That sparkle in your eyes, the energy,

the sympathetic ear,

the call to come for supper - or just to talk.

It's a mystery enshrouded in hindsight,

the last time you cut dough patches,

pinched a Perishky,

or glazed a cookie.

The last time you set the table,

poured a cup of coffee

and dished out blueberry pie.

The last time you left a message,
words spilling over each other, starting with
"Anneliese, this is mom ..."

The last time you fixed your hair,

put on a necklace, chose your shoes

and walked out the door.

Days gone by, remembered now

with pride for the Mom you've been,

reminding me of who you are

and to cherish the hug I can give you ...

still knowing your warm embrace

and the feeling of being loved. 

I love you, Mom.

♡♡♡