Oh-So-Ordinary

It was more painful than I would have thought- seeing my Mom in isolation, because of precautionary measures at The Home where she is living.  She was so weary, that she often refused or just could not open her eyes.  From eating independently, she went to needing someone to feed her, regularly.  To enter her room, I had to “gown up,” put on protective gloves and wear a surgical mask.  I do know that a number of things conspired against her during this past difficult week.

She got the flu vaccine.  (I am not interested in having an argument about whether or not this is helpful.  I am just stating it as a fact).  She started on a new medication that we hoped would work well with Aricept, in at least slowing down the progressive nature of the Dementia.  Some residents had gotten the flu, so Tamiflu was administered.  Mom had a head cold, which worried me as I was concerned that it would go down into her chest.  This is the week that was.

Visiting her today, I was so relieved to find her smiling, chatty, and witty.  I told her that her youngest son would soon be 5o years old, and that I was already 60.  She gave me that: “You’re kidding me,” kind of look, out of the corner of her eye.  Then I asked her: “And how old are you, Mom?”  Her answer: “I don’t really know.”  So I started counting: “70, 80, 90.”  “That’s far enough,” she said, and laughed out loud.  Music to my ears, was this bubbling-over joy.  I told her she was 94 years young.

I reminded Mom that we had made a deal, a few years back.  She still gets her hair coloured and she had asked me: “If I stop colouring my hair, will it be silver like yours or will it be a boring grey?”  I had to tell her the truth: “More than likely, it will be mousy-grey, Mom.”  We agreed that she would keep colouring her hair until she turned 95.  Her grin told me that she was delighted not to have yet reached that age.

Our lives are really made up of oh-so-ordinary days.  For Mom, it is now oh-so-ordinary moments.  Transforming one of those moments into a sweet and touching event is one my greatest of joys.  When I had been in to see Mom while she was sleeping, I simply held her hand and sang hymns.  Tears flowed- bittersweet tears.  A grief almost too painful to bear, mixed with the sublime realization that in Christ, all things have been made new, even here and even now.  And, this worthwhile life will soon be transformed to a much higher plane.

In Christ alone, my hope is found.  He is my light, my strength, my song.

This Cornerstone.  This solid ground.  Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.

What heights of love.  What depths pf peace.
When fears are stilled.  When strivings cease.

My Comforter.  My all in all.  Here in the love of Christ I stand.

~ Stuart Townend ~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCeSOY5tisI