FUN AT THE NURSING HOME

Many people don't realize how much fun people have in a nusrsing home.

My mother had a stroke just about 8 weeks ago, and she can hardly communicate. We do get some smiles and grins and squeezing of the fingers along the way. That, in itself, is great joy to us. We had an especially fun event that happened yesterday and today.

One of the aides often comes to her weekend job with her fingernails painted some crazy color. We've talked about it before, and I've discovered that her 6 year old daughter often picks out which color her mother will wear. It was, in my view, an ugly green . . and it was not a pretty sight!

She was showing her chartreuse fingernails to mother yesterday, and she asked my permission to paint mother's nails. Well, today when RL and I showed up to visit, we were met by three of the workers with big grins on their faces. We went in to see mother only to discover all of her nails painted chartreuse. Every one of the workers kidded mother about the color, and she opently laughed out loud when we spoke about it. She was obviously having a fun time with us and with the workers.

Several people came into her room to look and laugh. It was fun at the nursing home.

I'll never really understand what mother comprehends through these visits. I just know she was laughing and having fun. That's a good thing when you've suffered a stroke at 102.

MY MOTHER IS DYING

An opinion column in today's Fort Worth Star Telegram entitled "Clinging to a life that one can barely call a life anymore" reminded me of societies attitude about death. This is my answer to that editorial, and I use some of the writer's phrases and words.

MY MOTHER IS DYING

My mother is dying. She could die today, tomorrow, or perhaps next week. No one, including her hospice care, knows just when she will die, but her death is imminent and, having been at her beside each day for the past several weeks, I can testify that her death is a wonderful experience.

Yes, there are certainly deaths far more gruesome, but her slow death in Holland Lake Nursing Center in Weatherford is filled with daily joys. She has shared a room with an Alzheimer’s patient for the past 12 months, and there has been little/no communication between the two of them. As I think of human life, this seems to be an undignified way to end a wonderful life. So I’ve been thinking about life and death and its meaning more than ever in the recent weeks.

My mother has been preparing for her death for the past 102 years. She was a vibrant younger woman with children and grandchildren and wonderful memories. She has suffered through many of the normal ailments of life, from cancer to strokes to her now fetal position in a bed. She has been in and out of emergency rooms and hospitals and assisted living homes and nursing homes, but she is now under the care of a loving hospice organization. This just affirms the fact that her life on this earth will end very soon.

My mother recognizes that she is dying. We’ve talked about it together, and she answers me often with that small smile of recognition. She gives me that smile when we speak about her past, about her husband who has been dead for 22 years, about her wonderful childhood, about her loving family, and most of all, about her faith. Almost every day I sing hymns to her; I speak to her about heaven and its wonderful promises. Often tears will form in her eyes as she looks forward to the joys of eternity. And she tries so very hard to form the words “I love you” as I say them to her.

I have a question. What is mother comprehending as we spend time together. Does she really know what I’m saying? Is she seeing a small glimpse of heaven right now? Is her mind still working, and she just can’t get the words out? Every one of these difficult questions is puzzling, but these unanswered questions bring joy to me as I visit with her.

Physical death is a part of life. She understands that. I understand it. She grandchildren and great grandchildren, who have visited with her in these final days of her life, understand it. She is now showing us how to die. Early in life she taught us the truth that we now understand. It is that the joy of eternal life comes to all of us through faith in Jesus Christ.

I wouldn’t take anything for this wonderful experience. Each day I’m growing more in my faith as I wait patiently for God to take her to glory.

Mother, I love you!

THE KING

I don't usually pass on other blogs on my blog, but I must share this one. It came to me from Bryan McAnally.

Elvis Presley, the King of Rock, is dead.
James Brown, the King of Soul, is dead.
Kurt Cobain, the King of Grunge, is dead.
And now Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, is dead.
But Jesus Christ, the King of Kings, is alive forevermore. Let's tell people that, so they too can live forever.
Jesus said, "I am he who lives, and was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore. Amen. And I have the keys of Hades and of Death" (Revelation 1:18 NKJV).

Greg Laurie blog 6-30-09

WE CAN'T BE THAT OLD

I'm always fascinated how my mother, age 102, can speak about other "old" people, people she sees as old. That same malady has struck me recently. For instance, there is no way that Ruth Lynn and I can be celebrating our 48th anniversary today. I must be talking about some "old" couple.

I started dating RL when she was 16 and I was 17. It's not too hard to figure out how many years it has been. As I look at my beautiful wife, she looks just the same. She is still the wonderful teenager that I married in 1961.

There are some things that have changed. First of all, she has taken on a lot of my idiosyncrasies. And I also have some of hers. That's not good, but that's what 48 years will do to you. In the second place, we've also learned a lot of wonderful things from each other. The main thing we've learned is how to live a life for our Savior. That is really the fun part.

June 24th was also RL's parents anniversary, and both of them are now gone. Today is also Bryan and Kelli's 14th. Today is also Terry and Sandy Holsinger's 48th. We didn't know them till much later, but they were married about one hour ahead of RL and me. We usually celebrate together, and tonight we'll meet them at the Cracker Barrell to laugh and remembetr.

To Ruth Lynn . . . Happy Anniversary Sweetheart. I hope we can keep dancing for a long time.

HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO CLIFFORD VICTOR

Every person needs a loving father. That is why I have spent a lifetime telling people about our loving heavenly father. The Biblical example was given to us for a specific purpose. We are to use God's example as we becoming earthly fathers.

My Dad has been gone for 22 years; that's hard to believe because I can still see and feel his wonderful Christian leadership. He came from very humble beginnings, the first son and third child of 14 children. I really can't describe the family as "poor"; the best word would be "poooooooor".

There must have been something extra special about my grand father. He raised a tremendously godly and productive family, and he passed those characteristics along to my Dad.

My Dad could do anything, or he was willing to try to do anything. He married my Mother at the beginning of the Great Depression, and he had to do anything and everything just to make a living. He built a stone fence in northern Arkansas in the early 1930's after a man asked him if he could do the job. His answer was yes even though he had never done any stone work in his life. He must have done a good job because the wall is still standing.

I remember my Dad as a Deacon and Sunday School Teacher and Superintendent at First Baptist Church of Weatherford, Texas. He once taught a teenage boys class, and I often went with them on outings. He loved those boys. He had seven younger brothers of his own, and he knew how to deal with them.

He was also a leader in starting three new churches in Weatherford, Texas, and he helped to build literally dozens of churches all over the United States. I can't think of my Dad without seeing him with a hammer in his hand. The picture is one I gave to him as a gift at his retirement.

As a 70 year old man, I would really enjoy sitting today and talking with Dad. We had a great relationship before his death, but there are a lot of questions I'd like to ask him. That is just part of life. It is really over before many of us learn how to live it.

Anyway, Happy Father's Day Dad. Thank you for a life well lived and for a tremendous Christian influence.

Now, to all of my relatives who are fathers. Let me suggest that you look around and find a good Christian example. Then pass it on to your children. That's the way to have a really Happy Father's Day.

CHASING THE DRUM

The statement on the drum is "Age 12 years . . Pearl Clabaugh . . Sevierville, Tennessee". That's not much information, but I've found some clues.

There is a tremendously long list of Clabaughs on-line, but the only Pearl than I can find was born in 1908. She was the daughter of Samuel H. Clabaugh and Mary Jane Cotter Clabaugh. There is the connection. Her mother was a Cotter.

Now I'm off to the larger search. I have not yet figured out how Mary Jane was related to me. I've tracked her daughter Pearl (really Mattie Pearl) to 1920. She would have been 12 years old at that time. That was just about the time she wrote on the drum, and her name and parent's names appear in the 1920 census in Sevier County, Tennessee.

I can't find her name in any records after 1920, and I still don't know how the drum with her name came to Texas.

If you have any ideas, I'd appreciate a contact. The detective work will continue.

SURPRISE . . SURPRISE . . SURPRISE

In the famous words of Gomer Pyle, are you surprised?
Donald Trump finally did it. He fired Miss California. She wouldn't say and do the things she was told.
Christians, do you understand the attack?
Do you understand that it is time to say and do the correct thing?
It is time to quit playing the church game.
It is time for Christians who stand tall for God's kingdom.
My congratulations go to Carrie Prejean.