the susie solution

I now have three granddaughters – 2-3/4 years old, and 9 and 7 months.  Having grandkids has certainly changed my life. After years of sitting in  the “guest toy box”, the toys my own kids played with have gotten to come out and have a second run.  I have diapers and changing pads and wipes in a basket under the hearth.  Cabinet latches once again have sprouted in almost every toddler-level cabinet… and upper ones are getting theirs, now that the oldest little monkey is climbing.  Outlets have plugs.  I get to read the old favorite books again….and again…..and again….and….

One of the things I am most enjoying with the oldest one, Beverly, is the opportunity to again enter the world of imagination.  Beverly, like her mother before her, is a precocious child, with verbal skills exceeding that of many 4 year olds, and an imagination to match.  Listening in on her conversations with her toys can leave me choking with laughter.

Yet, sometimes, what she has to say is compellingly profound.

In the raised garden off our back patio, I have a collection of ceramic birds.  They are charicaturish, brightly-colored little things, standing on long stakes.  Their wings and feet are attached to the body with little springs.  All have unnaturally big, funny faces with beaks almost as big as the rest of their bodies.  They make me laugh to see them!  Last summer, Beverly would get up on the wall they patrolled and walk along the cottage stones carefully giving each bird a kiss as she went by.  Well, in January (as those who read my blog know) we had a doozy of a storm.  Snow, ice, wind all combined into one major disaster for our area.  We have 26 fir trees on our property, and each of them dropped copious quantities of branches.  The yards, front and back, were carpeted with them.  When I realized that some of my garden birds had been buried, I rushed out and excavated them from their firry pile.  I stacked them all up together against the house, under the eaves where they would be safe.  And there I forgot about them.

Forgot, that is, until one late spring day when I went out to get that garden ready to put in this summer’s new crop of annuals.  Beverly was with me, happily playing nearby, when she found the pile of birds.  Oh, my!  Gramsie had to put her friends where they belonged without a second to waste.  So, in went the pink one, the turquoise, the green, the blue, the purple, and …. Oh, wait a minute.  Alas, the yellow one had not fared well from his winter encounter.  One wing had its outer half broken clean off, and both legs were missing, leaving only tiny, rusty holes.  A pretty sorry spectacle, compared to his garden-mates.

So, I said to Beverly, “I’m sorry, sweetie, but this one is pretty badly broken.  I think we better put him in the trash instead of in the garden.”  Her eyes filled with tears, and her little chin shook as she clutched the poor, damaged bird to her chest, and she wailed,  “But, Gramsie, he’s still HAPPY!”

And he was!  No matter what damage there had been to other parts of his body, his absurdly big yellow beak still held its funny, friendly grin.  His goofy little eyes still looked as if they knew a great joke they’d love to tell you.  He didn’t care what had happened to the rest of him.  He was still smilin’!

My granddaughter was right on about that bird.  Just because he looks different than the other birds was no reason to consign him to the trash – not while he still has that ludicrous glee on his ceramic face.

It got me to thinking.  Sometimes we’re too quick to consign people to the ‘trash’ category.  Maybe part of them is broken.  Maybe part of them is missing.  Their body may be warped and twisted, and maybe it doesn’t do what bodies are supposed to do.  But these people still have value.  Every person who God has made is prized by Him, and every one He has made has a function that only that person can fulfill, even if we can’t see what that is.  If there’s life, there’s purpose!

Beverly looked beyond the brokenness, seeing only the happy friend who she loved.  We, too, need to look beyond brokenness.  We may not see the smiling face of a friend, but we will certainly see the face of one for whom Christ died – and that should be enough for us.

Unless he gets smashed to bits, I expect that little bird is going to be in my garden for many years.  And he’ll still keep on smiling – and reminding me that “out of the mouth of babes” you sometimes hear profound wisdom!

Wow – first post in what seems like forever (though it’s actually only been about three-and-a-half months.)  A lot of life has happened.  Still is happening!  One of the big things that happened last month is that we officially graduated our fifth and youngest child from homeschooling!!  I got her transcript and portfolio finished, and now I’m done forever with Declaration of Intent to Homeschool forms, lesson planning, curriculum decisions, tests, evaluations, and transcripts!  It’s been a great adventure these last 23 or so years, but ……  YIPPEE!!!!!  Free at last, free at last…..

For the last couple of years, I’ve been getting asked a lot, “So, what are you going to DO with yourself once you’re done homeschooling?”  I’ve usually mentioned writing (preferably for remunerative purposes) and volunteering as two top candidates for my time.  I’ve thought about taking courses in grant writing, or maybe just some fun stuff.  Never in any of my calculations did I think about the possibility that I would basically have a part-time job caring for my cousin.

Marie has made amazing progress in clearing out, organizing and cleaning her apartment.  By God’s grace, we have found a new apartment for her, much closer to us, in a wonderful, beautiful complex.  It will be the nicest place she’s ever lived.  She is using this opportunity to throw out even more, and allowing herself to buy some new things that will better suit the new apartment’s configuration.  Physically she is doing pretty well; as stable as she’s ever been, at any rate (which, with her extreme ups-and-downs of blood sugar with her brittle diabetes isn’t necessarily saying much.)  Emotionally, she’s made huge progress in dealing with many issues, thanks to psychotherapy, meds, and grace.  But I still have to manage her general financial affairs, her medical bills, and so on.  I still drive her to and accompany her on all medical visits so that I can interpret what the docs tell her, and go over any instructions again once home, writing out big notes for her to follow.  I take her grocery shopping; her poor eyesight makes it difficult to see products on the shelves.  I was the one who dealt with change of address for her pension, Social Security, IRS, drivers license, switching the phone and cable, all that stuff.  Moving her was an all-month process so that she wasn’t overwhelmed…. most of the time.

As I was growing up, my parents and my dad’s family left a deep impression on me that you do what needs to be done for those you love.  My aunt gave up much – even most – of the last DECADES of her life to care for my grandparents.  When my dad retired at 55 while we lived in Utah, instead of moving to WA like they had planned, my parents moved back to Daddy’s home town in Wyoming to take over Grammy’s care.  When my mom’s dad grew old and frail, they moved him into their house.  What I have done/am doing for Marie isn’t much compared with those sacrifices.  The accolades directed my way – “Wow, she is SO LUCKY to have you!” “You’re such a saint for doing this!” “You are just amazing!”- while certainly feeding my already-overfed vanity, also make me raise my eyebrows.  What’s the big deal?  Yes, it’s been good she has me, and I shudder to think what she’d have done with no one to help, but I lover her, have a great time with her, and learn from her, too, so it’s not like it’s a one-way deal.  I’m no saint for doing this; I’m just following my parents’ example.  I do have a great deal of ability and expertise, but 1.  that’s nothing of my doing, it’s just how God made me, and 2.  it’s far more His grace than my ability that has enabled me to do what I’ve done! It honestly has never occurred to me NOT to do it.  Right now, I’m the only family member in any position TO do it, so I do it.  End of story.

However, that said, the truth is that I do also struggle with this “detour”.  In the first rush of the situation with Marie, there was a kind of heady exaltation that carried me along.  It was fulfilling to see how God had prepared me to handle the issues that came up.  I was truly glad to be able to finally do some things for her that I’d long wanted to.  As the reality of the long-haul nature of this caregiving sinks in, though, part of me is dismayed and wants to say, “Forget it!”   No matter how cheerful I force myself to appear on the outside, sometimes inside… it’s not a pretty sight.  After all, this wasn’t what I had planned to spend these last five months doing, not by a long shot!  I had lots of projects on my drawing board.  I was really enjoying doing this blog; writing is a tremendous creative release for me, and I’m a much happier Susie when I’m getting a chance to write.  I was looking forward to attacking my sewing pile of projects.  There’s reorganizing and sorting and painting and gardening and …..  Lots and lots of things I wanted to do.  I mean, I’m all for serving God and all that – but I’d prefer to do it on MY timetable.  I want to set my own hours, write my own job description, and, above all, I want to be able to quit when I want to  if it gets too inconvenient!

THIS is where the rubber meets the road, though.  Either I believe that my time belongs to ME to do with as I please, or I believe that my time is HIS time to use as He sees fit.  Just as our money and our possessions belong to God, so, too, does our time.   When David wrote, “My times are in Your hands” in Ps. 31:15, he was talking about being besieged by his enemies and crying for deliverance, but that line is a truth that applies to all of our life.  If we are sincerely praying that God would make us of us, we better be prepared for all that that service might entail.  A servant doesn’t get to set his own hours or choose what work he feels like doing.  A servant does what his master decides, for as long as required.  What I’m going through isn’t, in fact, a “detour”; it’s the road God has always been planning for me.  We should always hold our own plans very lightly, in an open hand, because we’re not the ones holding the road map.

And just as there is joy to be found in giving of our money to the Lord and His purposes when we give out of a cheerful heart, so, too, there is joy to be found in willingly giving away our time and our energy to His purposes.  When I am feeling resentful of Marie and her needs, doing what I need to do is a nuisance.  When I have my heart set right and am keeping God’s perspective – “what you have done for the least of these, you have done for Me” – doing what I need to do for her is a pleasure.

Those other things I want to do?  I still hope to get around to them.  And if I don’t? Oh, well!  Those things won’t make it past the grave.  The things HE wants me to get done will matter for all eternity!