Do you ever feel like throwing in the towel?

Just before Christmas, Mum was diagnosed with small blood vessel disease. The blood circulation to her brain is faulty and it is not getting the oxygen it needs. It’s also called vascular dementia. Two of the manifestations are mental confusion and hallucinations. There is no cure.

My sister’s phone number must be the first one of her list and she gets the majority of calls. But, the phone calls to me are increasing. Nearly every call is coloured with urgency. “I’ve just had a shock.” “I have a situation here.” I know she phones my brother as well.

It’s difficult to hear that Grandma is visiting, or that Aunty has gone out and she doesn’t know when she’ll be back, or “I’m just waiting for your Dad to come home.” Both Grandma and Dad have been gone for years and Aunty lives in England and is unable to travel on her own.

It’s difficult to visit and sit and have a conversation and become hopeful and optimistic because it’s as normal a conversation as I’ve ever had with Mum and then hear her say, “I’ve just been wondering about my furniture. What will happen to it when I go back home to England?”

It’s difficult when I stay for supper with her and she wonders how I can afford to come all that way. “It’s expensive traveling from England you know.”

So, maybe I’ll just throw in the towel. I could get a new phone number. I could never go and visit my mother again. I could just forget it all….

On the other hand that would leave my sister and brother alone in this. After all, I am the big sister. What would they do without me? And, it would confuse Mum if all of a sudden I didn’t phone or visit anymore, or my phone number didn’t work. After all, she is confused enough.

Then again, our mum never threw in the towel. Oh sure, I know she thought about it – probably more than once. But, when a job has to be done you just set your mind to it, dig in and do it. And, she should know. She did just that – for over 23 years… But, that’s another story.

So, I will do just that. With a song and a prayer I will set my mind to it, dig in and do it. I will do it for my sister and brother. I will do it for our mum. And, I will do it for myself. Because, in the long run, how would I live with myself if I turned my back on her when she needed me most.

I know I’m not alone.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2010

Adrianna closed her tired eyes.

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” The carol whished around her. By the end of the second verse the beauty of the music settled on her weary shoulders.

“Silent night, holy night, Son of God, love’s pure light.” Tired tears escaped from under her eyelids. It was good to be reminded of God’s love – pure love – love that lit up a life, love that promised peace and joy, love that never broke promises.

“Silent night, holy night.” Adrianna slowly stood to her feet. Self-consciously she straightened her threadbare coat.

“Wondrous star, lend thy light.” Thankfully a place had been available in the second to last row. She looked around her. The pews were filled with Sunday people in their Sunday best. She wondered if she even belonged here. She studied the faces around her. Drawn faces, tired faces, masked faces. Lips moved, pages turned. She looked harder. Oh, over there. There was someone with joy and peace on their face. And behind her she heard a sniffle, she turned and looked. There was someone with tears of joy bathing their face.

“With the angels, let us sing.” She had snuck in the back door, after the service began, hoping to find the joy and peace that once had been so very real to her. She thought she might be able to find it in this church. But, looking around she realized that if it had been here all the people attending would have remnants of it clinging to them.

“Alleluia to our King.” If she couldn’t find it here, where would she find it? Her head hung low. Her heart ached.

“Christ the Saviour is born. Christ the Saviour is born.” Startled she looked up. That’s it! How could she have forgotten? Peace and joy were not found in a church. Peace and joy were found in the Saviour. Christ the Saviour is born. He saved us from our sins, from our tired lives, from our tormented souls.

“Silent night, holy night.” “Yes, Jesus, it is a holy night. Thank you for bringing me to this place and helping me to remember. Your gift to us is forgiveness. Your promise to us is peace and joy. Regardless of circumstance, regardless of our station in life, Your love is for all, for each of us.”

The music swirled around Adrianna in a dance of celebration. Her face glowed. Her eyes sparkled. She had discovered anew her riches in Christ.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

I was just thinking about Christmas – you know, fat man, red suit, ‘ho-ho-ho’, Jingle Bells, Rudolph, elves, Christmas card list, Christmas baking list, Christmas grocery list, Christmas cleaning to do list, Christmas wish lists, shopping, malls, crowds, waiting in line, credit card limit, snow, slush, slippery roads, cold, rushing, deadlines, baking, cleaning, wrapping.

How did we get so far away from the true meaning of Christmas? How have we let ourselves become so engrossed in the hustle and bustle of commercialism? If someone visited your home during the Christmas season would they see, hear or feel anything different from any other home in your neighbourhood?

Far from a joyful time of celebration, Christmas has become an unfulfilled dream for many.

Maybe this year we can get through the day without the cousins fighting over who got the best gift from Grandma. Maybe this year the turkey will be nicely browned on the outside and actually cooked all the way through on the inside. Maybe this year I’ll get some gratitude for all the work I’ve done in the kitchen and actually get help with the dishes. Maybe this year Uncle Joe won’t have one too many and get obnoxious.Maybe this year we can sit quietly around the fireplace and gaze into the gently burning fire while sipping our cocoa, and listen to Christmas music softly playing in the background. Maybe this year it’ll be a Hallmark Christmas.

Unrealistic expectations in lives that are lacking. An unrealistic expectation that one perfect day will fulfill all hopes and dreams and empty spaces in our lives.

Traveling, loved ones coming to visit, grandmothers, greenery, red bows, gingerbread, nephews and nieces, sweet, warm smells from the kitchen, grandchildren, games, smiles and laughter, love, tears of joy, hope, peace, Christmas Eve candlelight service, Silent Night, a hush, a breathless anticipation, O Holy Night, bright, shining star, shepherds, heavenly hosts, Hosanna in the Highest, celebration, inexplicable joy, hurry to see Him, humble stable, crude manger, beautiful baby.

A newborn baby in a cold, hard feeding trough. A dirty, smelly stable filled with love. Spontaneous worship given by ordinary people. This simple dwelling held the One who could fill the empty space in our lives, fulfill hopes and dreams, and provide love and peace.

Centuries later people are still seeking love, peace, hope, and rest from burdens. Have you found Him? Do you know Him? At this holy time of year what better gift could you give than sharing His good news with others? Share Jesus, share His gift. It’s free. It’s the best. One size fits all. It doesn’t rust or wear out. And best of all He fits that empty space perfectly.

I can’t think of anything better to give to the ones I love.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

In my last blog I told you that my life had been “interrupted” and so I was tardy in posting the answers to “Name that Tune” and the jokes.

It was my Mum. I needed to go and visit her. She is getting more confused, and having more problems with her memory. It’s life. It’s what happens. It’s not always fun and games, jokes and laughs. Much of life is messy and sad. It’s always been that way.

Just think about the first Christmas, over 2000 years ago. A young woman, pregnant for the first time. Her husband, who was not the father of the child. They were far from home. They were bone tired. The hotels and motels were all full up. The B&B’s had no vacancies. It was cold.

The baby was born  and put in his first bed – an animal’s feeding trough. Both the mother and father survived. They even had visitors who were excited because angels had come to tell them about the baby!

Over the next few days I will be sharing some stories for you. Consider them as my gifts to you this Christmas. And, yes, it will happen because I’ve pre-programmed it! 

Christmas will come, whether we’re ready or not. And that’s a good thing.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

When I wrote the last post on December 16th I fully intended to post the answers the following day. But, life interrupted. And that’s just how life is…

Here are the answers – better late than never!

Name that tune:

1/ Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres

Jingle Bell Rock

2/ The apartment of two psychiatrists                

The Nutcracker Suite

3/ We are King, Lear and Nat Cole of China

We Three Kings of Orient Are

4/ Far off in a hay bin

Away in a Manger

Jokes:

A/ What do snowmen eat for breakfast?

Snowflakes

B/ What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

Frostbite

C/ What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?

Claustrophobic

D/ Why does Santa have three gardens?

So he can ho-ho-ho.

I can hear the groans….especially from my children!

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

CONGRATULATIONS Kimberley! You’re right! The answer is “Silent Night.”

Here are a few more Christmas tunes:                                              

1/ Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres

2/ The apartment of two psychiatrists

3/ We are King, Lear and Nat Cole of China

4/ Far off in a hay bin

(Feel free to leave your answer(s) in the comments.)

How are you at jokes? I hate to admit it, but I’m terrible. Oh, I’m good at telling them; I just can’t remember them! Sometimes I can remember the first half, but forget the last half – yes, the punch-line. Not good.

If you need some help in that area this Christmas, or maybe you’re looking for something to talk about with that aunt, cousin, nephew, you only see once a year, look no further! Okay, maybe just continue looking down this page….

A/ What do snowmen eat for breakfast?

B/ What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

C/ What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?

D/ Why does Santa have three gardens?

Sit down, close your eyes, and let this Christmas music take you back to your childhood… What? Oh yeah, there I go again, forgetting the punch-line. Drop by tomorrow and I’ll have them for you. “All I want for Christmas is the mind that I misplaced…”

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Have you ever noticed that regardless of the wonderful, or terrible, thing going on in your life the world continues to spin, as it always does. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc. continue in an orderly fashion as the sun rises and sets. The leaves fall in Autumn, the cold blows in for Winter….

And now, Christmas. Just like every year. So, let’s pull out the Christmas music, set up the nativity set, buy a few candy canes and lots of chocolate, watch for the best price on turkey, and celebrate. Let’s choose to celebrate. After all the mincemeat and Christmas puddings are already made.

“A little boy and girl were singing their favourite Christmas carol in church the Sunday before Christmas. The boy concluded “Silent Night” with the words, “Sleep in heavenly beans.” “No,” his sister corrected, “not beans, peas!”

And, while we’re talking music… what is the title of this Christmas tune?
Sir Lancelot with laryngitis

Feel free to put your answer in the comments. I’ll reveal the answer next time. Until then enjoy the beautiful music below.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

After an unrealistic shot of hope and optimism at the geriatric assessment a few weeks ago, we are now settling into the glum reality of this stage in Mum’s life, and ours.

“I’m sorry but your mum has fallen again today – twice. We’re going to start taking her down to meals in a wheelchair. We’re concerned that she might really hurt herself one of these times….”

A walker all of her life – a “no nonsense” walker – the deterioration of her walking, and now this wheelchair travel, must be another harsh blow to our mum.

* * * * * * *

“Keep up, Denise.”

“Mummy, you’re walking too fast!”

“Well, just walk a little faster. Come on now, no dilly dallying.”

* * * * * * *

Some days she seems really good. Well, “really good” as in her present state of mind and movement is not so bad some days. And then there are the “other” days.

“Denise, you’ve come all this way from England to see me, again? That’s a lot of money you know!”

“No Mum, I haven’t just come from England. Yes, we did immigrate together when I was a toddler. And, yes, we did go on a trip together a couple of years ago. But, I don’t live in England.”

“Oh, Denise, I’m just so confused.”

* * * * * * *

But, in spite of all that, Christmas is coming and she has reminded us, often, that we need to get the mincemeat and the Christmas puddings made, and don’t forget the Christmas cards. And, in November, Karen and I did gather all the ingredients and Mum’s mincer and Christmas cards and Mum, and we had a great day reminiscing and peeling and mincing and baking and writing and laughing.

Shortly after that fun-filled day Mum phoned my sister, “Okay, Karen, now when are we going to make that mincemeat and Christmas pudding? It has to have time to age you know.”

We choose to laugh. The other choice is to cry. And crying is okay too, but you don’t want to stay in that place. At least, not when you grew up with a mother like ours who let us cry a little but then encouraged us (okay, maybe “demanded” is a better word!) to “buck up”, to not wallow, to “get on with it.”

So, we choose to laugh and our mum laughs with us. We laugh that she’s always complained about her memory, but now it really is bad. We laugh that she has always mixed up names – May, Frank, Karen, Mervyn… Denise! We laugh, because in many ways we’re just like her. And, we laugh, because we’re family. We stick together through thick and thin, good times and bad times, over smooth roads and rough. Because, as a family, we’re on this journey together.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

I want my mummy!

Drippy nose, hurting, stuffed-up head, coughing, slight fever from time to time and all the little bones in my face ache, and a bag of used Kleenex beside my chair…

I know it’s only a cold, but… I want my mummy!

If my mummy were here she would get me comfortable on the couch and tuck soft blankets around me. She’d put cool facecloths on my forehead and stroke my hair. She would take my temperature on a regular basis. She would insist I rest – no matter what I thought I had to do – and bring me books to read. Regular drinks would be brought to me all through the day. And, chicken soup – not the salty, overcooked store-bought kind, but homemade. Then, to help me sleep, my mum’s special hot lemon and honey at bedtime.

When I was a child I would get a doozy of a cold at least twice, if not three times, every year. But, it wasn’t so bad with my mummy looking after me. Okay, yes, sometimes she got impatient with me but all us kids have to try out the limits – right?

All stuffed up and coughing I phoned my mum the other night. I wanted to make sure she hadn’t come down with this dreadful cold because we had been together the day before it hit me. And, at 82, a cold can become a much more serious event.

“Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating? Drinking enough? Have you made yourself some hot lemon and honey?”

“I’ll be okay, Mum. Remember when I was little and you used to look after me when I was sick? You made the best hot lemon and honey – your secret recipe.”

“You need someone to look after you. You phone your son and tell him to come and get me. I’ll come and look after you…”

“Thanks Mum. But, really, I’ll be okay. I’m probably over the worst of it. And I sure don’t want you to get this! It’s…”

“Oh Denise, I won’t get sick!”

“I know Mum. Thank you. Tell you what. If I get any worse I’ll have you come.”

“Make sure you do, mind.”

Lately the retirement home has told Mum that she must use her walker; even just to go down to meals. Her walking is deteriorating… as is her memory… But, no matter the age of the mother, or the daughter, the relationship stands as it always has, ageless – a mother, a child, the instinct to look after one another just a part of who you are. I am blessed to have such a mother.

“Achoooo! Cough, cough, cough… I want my mummy!!!”

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

“Just an old-fashioned love song;” “One is the loneliest number;” The ink is black, the page is white;” “Jeremiah was a bull-frog”.

Hubby got a new CD of old songs recently. Three Dog Night. Songs from my heyday. Funny how a few lines of an old song can take you back to that time. A time of being young and fit, footloose and fancy-free. An entire lifetime ahead of me. Hmm, well I guess I’ve used up a lot of that life.

Has it passed me by? Or, have I really lived it? Have I enjoyed the good times? Have I learned through the challenges? Or I have just gone from one day to another? One event to another? One item on the calendar to another? Just trying to get through it, just trying to make it through another week, another day, another hour?

At 17 I enjoyed life. Yes, it had its challenges. I had my problems – some seemed insurmountable. But many new experiences awaited me. Life was exciting!

Over 30 years of marriage; three children, one son-in-law, three grandchildren, and other additions to our extended family; friends coming and going and staying; a variety of jobs – paid and volunteer; a parade of vehicles – new and used, cars, trucks, tractors and lawn-mowers; and a vast array of experiences, challenges, joys and obstacles are testament to the fact that my life has been anything but boring!

Right. So, why should it change now? After all, I’m not as old as my mother. Yes, we are related and chances are that I may have some of the same problems as she does – when I reach her age, if I reach her age. But, for now, I’m still mobile, have 20/20 vision – with my contact lenses, my hearing is good – maybe a bit selective, have nearly all my teeth, and my hair is the same colour as it was when I was 17 – okay, maybe with a little help…

Come to think of it I’m fairly footloose and fancy-free as well. My children are all grown-up and basically self-sufficient and on their own. I’ve trained my husband to take care of himself as well. I have a job I love and enough hobbies and things I want to do to last several life-times. Each one is sure to bring its own challenges, learning and joys.

So, I guess the choice is up to me. I can wonder how long I’ve got left to do the things I want to do. I can worry about my health and mobility. I can wallow in the gloomy possibilities.

Or, I can take a lesson from my mum. I can try to face every day with a smile and look for the laughs in the day. I can help others. And, when people ask, “How are you?” I can smile and say, “Happy and thankful.”

Because, in the end, who you are is not defined by your age, health, mobility or mind function, but by your spirit.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009