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If I wasn’t teaching full-time, I think I would create a support group for caretakers. It’s definitely a need.

At church today, I spent time talking to a person who is taking care of a spouse. Listening to the description brought me back to my time in Michigan when my father required intensive care after my mother’s death. We experimented with so many approaches. This conversation reminded me of my idea for a caretaker support group.

What would the class look like? Here is a sample.

Class Syllabus

#1 Get to Know You: This class will be one where members learn about the caretaking and responsibilities of each member. Personal inventories will be completed, pictures taken, and snacks would be provided.

#2 Self-Care: This class will focus on the importance of self-care as a caretaker.

#3 Community Building: This class will focus on ways the group can support each other. Members need to come prepared with the top three things that would help them feel supported.

#4 Resources: This class will focus on available resources for the caretakers.

#5 Problem Solving: This class will allow members to share the top three problems associated with caregiving. Members will have the opportunity to share solutions.

#6 Closing Activities: This class will be reflective. Each member will help create a booklet of ideas to help other caretakers. This booklet will be available to current members.

As I look ahead to 2023, will this support group be something I will implement? Time will tell, but I will keep it on my radar.

It’s hard to believe that another year is upon us. New opportunities, new places to go– it’s exciting!

As the year begins, my thoughts turn to my father. How can I connect with him when we live 3 hours away? How can I make intentional plans to help him?

Unfortunately, we could not see him at Christmas. The Blizzard of ” 22 prevented our Christmas party. Michigan winter weather is unpredictable, so what is a better idea?

FaceTiming with text is a new way I am communicating. I call the nurse at around 1:30, she sets up his computer, and we connect. At the bottom of the screen, you can see various icons. The texting feature works well. I text and then point to the words on the screen. The challenge was that it took too long. Live captions are the newest feature I discovered. Hopefully, this will help us communicate even better!

What are other strategies I can implement? Visits are good, but sometimes hard to schedule with the unpredictable weather. Printed photos of the family? I need to think harder about these strategies for 2023.

” I think I can use Goo-Gone and get rid of the extra glue,” Caden announced. I had my doubts and they proved true. The stubborn yellow glue would not come off, but I think it’s okay. Hobby Lobby’s Christmas sale prompted me to buy a new one. I don’t think the blue Delft Christmas tree is worth the effort. As my mother used to say, ” It served its purpose.”

How do people deal with sentimental items from parents who passed away? Do they just take a picture and make an album? My cousin told me that she has not touched one piece of her mom’s belongings. Others have told me that they dealt with all items immediately.

As I clean out the basement, my mom’s furniture has not moved. Three years ago, I had plans to recover the hope chest, but the wood is rotting and it is becoming an eyesore. Three years ago, I thought I would put the small side table to good use, but it doesn’t appeal to me now.

Hanging in the closet is her yellowed wedding dress. What do I do with that? Is it bad to cut up the best parts and place it in a memory box? Will anyone in the family be offended if I do this?

I finally decided that I am going to gather all the items, place them in a pile, and make a decision on each one. Three years later… I am still working through the memories as the journey continues.

What happens when your father and grandfather cannot make it to the wedding? I wrestled with this question during the weeks leading up to the wedding. Inwardly, I hoped that he would suddenly appear with my brother, but it was not the case.

Instead, we drove up to Waterford to share the dance with my father and the residents. Cookies and sparkling grape juice were added to the festivities. The residents watched with smiles and joy. It was a precious event.

Friday afternoon found me back at Waterford after an inspiring educator convention in South Bend. While I was tempted to shop in the many stores, I decided to spend Friday afternoon and Saturday morning with my father.

“It’s like I am in class and you are the teacher,” he commented. “But it’s okay,” he quickly added.

His comment referred to our writing class. We decided to work on Christmas cards and an acrostic poem to include inside the card.

At first, he resisted. ” I don’t know what to write,” he complained. Undeterred by his comment, I persisted.

” Come on, Dad. It will be fun,” I encouraged. We worked together to write an acrostic poem about Christmas. The creativity bug inspired him to add more. ” How can I shape the words in a different way so that they are slanted?” he inquired.

Maddie, the nursing aide, overheard our conversation and told him they would work on it during their Tuesday session.

Our next class: Music. I wheeled him to the piano where I sat down at the familiar black instrument.

After playing many hymns, he indicated two songs he remembered: “Count Your Blessings” and “Now Thank We All Our God”. It surprised me that he didn’t know more, but music was never one of his hobbies.

His last comments made me stop and think.” Why do you suppose the church is called the communion of the saints and I cannot get another person to take me to church?” He was referring to the fact that Joan takes him to church once a month, a hired person takes him to church twice a month, but nobody takes him the other Sundays.

I had to stop and ponder this question. He saw my hesitation and persisted. ” I mean, if there are 160 people in a church and only 1 person picks me up, what does that say about the church?”

Choosing my words carefully, I explained to him that it may be difficult for families with young children to pick someone up for church and also pointed to my own brother who could also pick him up once a month. ” He wants to go to his own church,” my father explained. I secretly think that there is really no reason why my brother cannot take him to church one time per month, but I do not live there and should not judge. Should I make more of an effort to include this in our Michigan visits?

” I think I need to write an article for the church newsletter and title it Practical Christianity,” he decided. “One of my tips will be picking up people for church.” “Okay,” I answered. ” Maybe next time.”

I left him, thinking about this important question. Are there people in my own church who need someone to give them a ride?

Again, spending time at Waterford prompted me to think about life in a different way. It’s one of the many blessings of visiting my father.

If you looked at my mom’s calendar, you would often see the words, “Big Day.” It referred to some momentous occasion. The calendar was marked, “Big Day.”It was a day like no other when Caden and Elly celebrated their wedding.

Tears threatened to come when I saw the white frame and the white roses, but I didn’t want my mascara to run and focused on happy thoughts instead.

I still remember the day when Elly visited my mom when she was in rehab. My mother always loved Caden’s gentle spirit. She gave him a knowing smile when Elly came along with him.

My mother would have loved the wedding. The flowers, the string quartet, her dress– it was truly beautiful. She would have been happy that my brother and his family, cousins, and her brother made the special trip to attend.

One of the final deliveries was on Sunday afternoon. We took the beautiful flowers and brought them to the nursing home down the road. It was a perfect way to remember my mother one more time.

It’s hard to believe that it’s wedding week. This coming Saturday, Caden and Elly are getting married.

I am grateful we are not dealing with COVID, but… my deepest wish is that my father could attend.

“Zero condition to drive,” my brother texted.

Again, I am grateful that we are not dealing with the uncertainties of COVID, but… my mother-in-law may not make it, either. Colitis, her constant friend, is making a return visit.

Chloe, ever positive, developed an idea. ” What about a small reception after the wedding? Do it in Michigan.”

Their absence is an adjustment to the reality, which I always deny, of aging parents. It’s a reality everyone faces at some point, but it never makes it easier. The tears fall, the emotions surface, and their absence will be noted.

Above all, though, they would have celebrated a new granddaughter who loves the Lord like they do!

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

Erma Bombeck

I inwardly grimaced when I picked up Corey to head to Indianapolis on Saturday. Why? He was carrying the familiar gray laundry bag tightly packed with dirty clothing.

Midnight bedtime for me, I thought. A trip to Indianapolis meant that laundry would be completed much later in the day.

Surprisingly, my mother came to mind, and how she asked for my dirty laundry. She loved ironing and doing laundry. When she came for visits when we lived in Kansas, she specifically asked for ironing. Mitch always commented on her ironing skills, a skill missing from my resume.

The quote from Erma Bombeck would not resonate with her. ” I love ironing,” she would say.

Three years have passed, but her memories keep going. Who would have thought that a gray laundry bag filled with clothing would remind me of her?

I never thought my father would outlive his long-term care policy, but it’s happening! As we discussed the next steps, we could not help but marvel. Who would have thought this would even happen?

As fall continues, I cannot help but remember the craziness of how he acted after my mother passed away. I remember standing outside his hospital room and thinking about how I would need to plan for another funeral. I remember the doctor telling me about “broken heart syndrome”. But here we are!

I would never believe that, three years later, he would be taking a ride on a Ferris wheel, going on little field trips to Lake Michigan, or celebrating his 90th birthday.

Thank you, God, for allowing him a quality of life at 90!

” I think I want to paint it,” Corey announced. The” it” referred to his room at the Young Life Home, named The Harbor. He is a Young Life leader for a local public high school. Inwardly, I groaned, thinking about the timing, but I know the importance of a good room environment for students.

Upon entering the room for the first time, I commented, ” I think this has possibilities.” A queen-size mattress with a broken frame, several tables, and a chair filled one part of the room while an attached sink, cabinet, and wardrobe closet inhabited the area closest to the door. We stood in silence for a while, contemplating the possibilities.

” We need a room divider,” I stated. ” This will block off the ugliness of the old sink and cabinet. I immediately began searching on Pinterest. What would we ever do without this fantastic resource? Sure enough, someone posted ways to create inexpensive room dividers. Drop-cloths seemed to be the easiest.

We worked late Friday night and all day Saturday. Of course, I had to take photos!

Strangely enough, I could not help but think about my father’s room during this time. Memories of finding the orange blanket to add a pop of color, purchasing the large horse picture that generates comments, and adding plants flooded my mind. Has it really been three years now?

The journey continues…………………………………..