If I had to choose one word to describe the July that we’ve experienced here in Kansas, it would have to be hot.
There’s been way too much humidity for my comfort level, but every so often, that clears away and the dry heat reminds me of how summers used to be here when I was a kid. It’s sort of like going outside into a furnace, but it beats the humidity, in my opinion.
During my parents’ months together in the nursing home, I kept the paperwork for managing all their affairs in two accordion files, which I stored in my kitchen desk.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever envision myself having this sort of paperwork in my house. When the time came for me to handle all the things, though, I tried to set it up in the most logical and organized way possible.
Categories like “Paid Bills,” “Receipts” and “Bank Statements” were fairly innocuous. But “New Mail to Discuss with Dad” and “Home Sale”—written in green Sharpie because I added it later, after both of my parents died—caused me a pang when I pulled them out of their slots many months later.
I had already gone through much of my dad’s files and documents from his life at home. I had a couple of boxes ready for shredding.
But these papers in my drawer were heavier. They represented what I did during my parents’ final months, day after day—paying bills, working out insurance issues, figuring out the next step.
I had this project on my list for months before I finally gathered up the gumption to tackle it.
I sorted all the funeral stuff, all the Medicare statements, all the tax documents. Some would be shredded, some kept for later processing.
I hadn’t planned to go through the black accordion file—the one with the most daily stuff—one particular day, but there I was, sifting through a pile of receipts.
I texted Randy about it: “Is there any reason why I should save receipts from all the payments to [the nursing home]?”
I thought maybe my husband who hates clutter would tell me no, get rid of them all.
“Only if they mean something to you,” he wrote back. “I like to think of your folks at home” (as opposed to in long-term care).
I understand how he felt, for sure.
By the time I saw his answer, I had already settled in my heart that what I wanted to do was write about the pile of receipts—to document my feelings and thoughts about it just so I’ll remember.
When I saw the receipts, I thought of the thousands of dollars we spent on my dad’s care every month. Money that he scrimped and saved his whole life, never intending that a single dollar would be spent on his own room and board at a nursing home.
But when we needed it for that, there it was. Along with the funds he paid so that my mom could have a private room for a year and a half (and what a blessing that was).
In a way, it’s almost easy to write checks for several thousand dollars every month when it’s not your own money. Even then, though, I wondered what we’d do when the funds ran out. It would have taken a few years, but it still weighed on me.
Turns out, I needn’t have worried. My dad lived the last five months of his life in the nursing home. My mom beat him to heaven by five weeks.
The last piece of paper in the receipts file might have been the most poignant for me. It’s the statement that came with a refund from an assisted living facility a few miles from my home. I had paid $500 to reserve a room there for my dad—the plan was for him to move in after he finished rehabbing from being hospitalized for congestive heart failure.
Instead, his health declined further and he became my mom’s roommate at the nursing home.
I got rid of all the receipts but this one. Even now—three years after my parents died—it reminds me of Proverbs 16:9: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
♥ Lois
This post is part of a collection called Help for Parent Loss. To read more, please click here.
Nursing-home statements from my parents' last months remind me of Proverbs 16:9: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” Share on XPhoto by Valentina Locatelli on Unsplash
It’s that time of year when my brain seems to dry up. At least the part of my brain that easily writes—and finishes—blog posts.
I have, in the blog folder on my laptop, several partially written posts that are almost complete. The beginning is done, the rest is either mostly finished or in note form that should be easy enough to wrap up.
This is not a writing blog, but every once in a while, I come across a book about the subject that meets me right where I am. Which means, of course, that I have to share bits and pieces of it with you.
This time, it’s a book called Good Prose: The Art of Nonfiction—Stories and Advice from a Lifetime of Writing and Editing. It was cowritten by Tracy Kidder, who won the Pulitzer Prize in 1982 for The Soul of a New Machine, and Richard Todd, his long-time editor.
Happy Summer! The days are officially getting shorter now, but there’s still plenty of sunshine to be enjoyed in the coming months. (Along with fireflies at dusk, the sight of which brings me all sorts of joy.)
I say this every month, at least to myself, but I can’t believe it’s already time to link up with Heather Gerwing for another Share Four Somethings. Starting with …
I was doing some blog maintenance last week when I made a fun discovery: The next time I hit “publish” (today, in other words), I would be sending my 400th post out into the world.
When I started blogging in September 2014, I had no plans to keep going until I hit 400. I had no plans at all, really, other than to post something every Tuesday and hope somebody besides my mom would read it.
One post led to another, though, and here we are—on the brink of a new century, at least when it comes to blog-post quantities.
Much has changed—in the world and in my life—since I started blogging.
You live in the world same as me, so we don’t have to rehash all that. On a personal level, though, my girls were in fourth and seventh grades when I started. Now, one is a high-school senior and the other, a college junior.
I had bangs back then; now I don’t (although I seriously reconsider this look every time I visit the hair shop).
I’m physically stronger, and also visibly older.
Perhaps most significant, at least as far as my writing goes, is that my parents were alive and well when I ventured out into the blogosphere, and now they are not. I don’t know how many blog posts I’ve devoted to various aspects of their long (and sometimes heartbreaking) journeys to heaven, but it’s been a lot.
Three years after my parents died, I still write about them, but it feels different. It’s less therapeutic and more hopeful, less for me and more for others. That might change tomorrow, but for today, it seems good and right.
• • •
After all that life, growth and decline (not to mention those 400 blog posts), I find myself wondering what comes next. And I can’t help thinking about my word for 2022—dawn.
When we went to Idaho a few weeks ago, I expected we’d see some glorious sunrises. How could we not, given the huge sky and regal mountain backdrop? But the two times I woke up early enough (by 5:45 a.m., to be exact) to see the dawn, it was sort of unremarkable.
With so much beauty and majesty in the landscape, I’m guessing that there are days when the sunrises near Kilgore, Idaho, are absolutely gorgeous. That’s not what I experienced while we were there, though.
And yet, here in plain old boring Kansas, with nary a mountain in sight, I have seen sunrises that literally took my breath away. I’ve witnessed dawns splashed across the early morning sky in such vivid color I had to stop running on the trail and take a photo.
So what does this have to do with me and my blog, moving forward, and maybe with you too?
Perhaps just this: That beauty can be found when and where we’re not expecting it. That, upon closer examination, plain isn’t always plain. That we all have gifts and talents—some more obvious than others, but each one good and God-given and meant to be used for His glory.
As I think about my first 400 posts, I don’t have an impressive blog growth story to share with you. Part of me wishes I did, but a larger part is comfortable with the reality that smaller is often better, for a variety of reasons. (That said, new readers are always welcome and appreciated, so if you know of people who might enjoy this blog, please share it with them.)
It’s hard to know, this side of heaven, the true value of what we do, day in and day out. It may not seem all that important or consequential, especially when compared to what others may be doing.
In the end, though, our job is not to keep up with anyone else; it’s simply to do what God has called us to do today, with as much grace and love as possible. Here, that means telling stories that offer what I think we’re all seeking these days—”Strength for today and hope for tomorrow.”
• • •
While I don’t pay much attention to blog stats, I was curious to see which topics have resonated the most with readers over the years. In ascending order, here are the three posts (out of 400) that have garnered the most views since 2014.
No. 3: The Writing Feedback that Changed My Life
No. 2: Do You Feel Like the Wrong Person for the Job?
No. 1: Why Faith is not the Opposite of Fear
If you have a few spare moments, I’d love for you to check out these posts and let me know what you think. While you’re at it, feel free to suggest a topic or two you’d like to see covered here (or covered more often). I have a few plans for the immediate future, but I’ve also learned that sometimes, the words that flow from the day-to-day sharing of lives and hearts are the ones that have the most impact.
Finally, I want to say thank you. If you’ve recently joined us, I’m so glad you’re here. Given all the other reading, listening and viewing options out there, I appreciate your presence very much.
If you’ve been here for the long haul, you’ve walked with me through some deep valleys. Your encouragement has helped me keep writing, and I could not be more grateful.
Onward and upward!
♥ Lois
Beauty can be found when and where we’re not expecting it. Upon closer examination, plain isn’t always plain. Share on X It's hard to know the true value of what we do, day in and day out. In the end, though, our job is not to keep up with anyone else. It's simply to do what God has called us to do today, with as much grace and love as possible. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with OneWord2022, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.