Renewal

"...and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death;there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.  And He who sits on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' And He said, 'Write, for these words are faithful and true.'" Revelation 21:4-5

The last several weeks have been tough for lots of reasons.  I've not written since mid-March because I've been busy, distracted, sad, angry, worried, lazy, depressed, exhausted or not in the mood. But I'm a joyful person. I'm optimistic and strong. I'm stubborn and tenacious. However, I sometimes reach a limit of what I can handle, and the last several weeks have exceeded my limit. 

Billy is about the same...maybe slower and not as steady on his feet, but he's still walking, talking very little (but talking), smiling, and recognizing those closest to him. I see him five or six times a week when I feed him supper at 5:00 in the evening. I take him to church on Saturday evening, and we go to dinner with friends or family afterwards. Most days I visit, I leave with a smile and a warm heart, but if I allow myself to look at him and think about our relationship now, I get sad and teary-eyed immediately. I sit there beside him, and I just long to talk to him about my day or about my parents or about some silly thing that bothers me. It makes my heart hurt to see him walk so slowly, to watch his hand shake as he tries to get a bite of food in his mouth. 

My stress level has been much higher recently due to all that goes with the operation of school in the spring, but this entire year has been more difficult than usual. As a campus, and as an administrator, we've had an unusual amount of issues. Some have stunned me. Some have disgusted me. All have exhausted me. 

This past fall my daughter and son-in-law moved in with me. It helped them and me financially, and after several months we decided it worked out well enough that we plan to continue the arrangement for a while. We also decided we could use a house with one more bedroom, and it so happened that our landlord (great guy) had one coming available. So during the busiest time of the school year, we decided to move to another house. I don't know what I was thinking at that time, but at some point in a few months, I'm sure I'll be happy that we did it. At the moment, I am looking at my room with boxes lining the blank walls and wishing I had labeled said boxes better. I need to locate my clock radio. 

My sister and I have taken turns shuttling my mom (with Dad joining us) back and forth to doctor's appointments. She's doing well and getting stronger each day. She has a scan in the next few weeks, and she and the oncologist will determine together if she will undergo more chemo. We pray she will not need it. A few months ago, my Aunt Pat, Mom's younger sister, was having severe pain in her lower abdomen. My uncle took her to the ER, and by that evening, she had a diagnosis of ovarian cancer...on the same side and in the same area as my mom's cancer. The tumor was pressing against her ureter (just as Mom's had), and her kidney was not functioning properly (like Mom). The two differences for my aunt are that her cancer is more advanced, and she has the complication of Parkinson's Disease. She began chemo before even leaving the hospital. It's been very difficult on her, and after her first round, she ended up back in the hospital. Please keep Aunt Pat in your prayers. I hate cancer and Alzheimer's. 

So far the theme of this post has not followed my title, and this is where I tell you that God has never let go of me in all of this. I have been blessed over and over. When we moved out of the other house, four beautiful ladies in my small group from church took on the task of cleaning the house...not an enviable job. Last week, after we had just completed the moving of stuff from one house to the other, I received a call from a dear friend in Midland where we lived for almost 20 years before moving back to this area. She told me that she and two other sweet friends were coming to see me the next day. She missed me, knew we had just moved and would come help me with unpacking. I was thrilled to see them. They arrived on Monday evening, and after we had eaten dinner, she handed me a newspaper clipping and wanted me to read the ad another friend had written for a garage sale they all had together. I thought it a bit odd, but we've done stranger things. The ad was pretty typical of garage sale ads until the end where it said that all proceeds would go to a friend with Alzheimer's. It seems that the life group Billy and I were a part of for many years wanted to do something to help us. They knew I still had a hefty bill at the nursing home to take care of along with Billy's dental bills. Many people donated items to the garage sale and others just donated money. I'm still amazed at the goodness of so many of my brothers and sisters in Christ. We received enough money to take care of the nursing home in full and pay most of the dental bill. Have you ever been so grateful that you don't even know how to properly thank someone?  I am at a loss for words...not a frequent problem for me. While they were here, they paid a visit to Billy, and he was obviously thrilled. 

Another huge blessing has been the worship time I've shared with Billy and our friends and family. We've been studying Revelation the last several weeks, and when we came to Chapter 21, and our minister honed in on the promise from God that heaven will be a glorious place with constant praise and worship. But the best part of that chapter to me is that we will be made new. Billy will be his best non-Alzheimer's self. No more tears. No more pain. Lord, come quickly. 

It's time for a renewal of my spirit and my attitude. I have allowed what goes on around me to determine my actions and my outlook. Will I still get sad about Billy?  Of course. Will bad things still happen to those I love?  Yep. But I choose hope, and I choose to stand on the promises of God. 

Watches, Pocketknives, and Random Sparks of Memory

I've been in the center of a giant whirlwind over the last several weeks...maybe months, but in particular the last few weeks have left me spent - physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

School has offered a number of challenges - even more than usual. I have a theory that when you put over 1,000 fifth and sixth graders in a building, and each of them has one parent but many have multiple step parents, fathers of the week, and grandparents, issues will arise. Add to that 100 teachers and support staff, and you might have a few more issues. This year is number 32 for me in public education, and some might think I should have it down by now - this administration stuff. However, I can assure you that there is no prep course or primer for some of the things that arise, but as Hooper often says, I digress. 

My mom is finally out of the hospital and rehab, and now we have appointment after appointment to follow up with three surgeons, one cardiologist, and the primary care physician. My sister and I try to split the doctors' visits, but it is so difficult for her to get away from work and drive the hour commute back to my parents. I do love the time I have with my parents. I do hate the drive between Fort Worth and Dallas. 

In the midst of Mom's medical issues, when we were exhausted beyond what we thought was possible, my sister mentioned that we should get away over Spring Break.  She and her family had rented a house on the beach in Galveston a few years ago, and we put our shekels together to go for four wonderful days back to the beach! It was the best thing I've done for my mental state in a long time. I spent hours on the balcony reading and napping. On Wednesday, we returned to the real world of all the things we want to do during Spring Break.  One of my aspirations was to clean out my very large closet that I could scarcely step into. It was clean and organized last August, then life got crazier, Shelley and Andrew moved in, and I put more and more stuff in my closet. I started on Friday night. I'm still working on it. 

I also felt the urge to clean out the bedside table drawers that had always been on Billy's side of the bed. The inventory in those two drawers include the list below; it is not an exhaustive list....just some of the items. 

• 3 watches - none working
• 1 old pocketwatch
• 5 pocket knives of various sizes and brands
• 1 letter from Shelley to her dad (made me teary)
• numerous CDs including The Mighty Mighty Boss Tones and Classic Old Time Music from the Smithsonian Folkways Recordings
• 1 claw massage thing
• 1 cassette tape of Smokey Robinson & the Miracles (we have not owned a cassette player in 10 years at least)
• 1 pair of Coke bottle lens glasses from late 80s-early 90s
• 1 unopened box of Pinnacle Gold golf balls
• his worn leather checkbook with pictures
• 3 combs 
• his wallet
• a few snapshots

Every item I pulled out of that drawer brought me a memory - very pleasant memories for the most part, and what a blessing that was and is. Billy always had a "thing" about watches.  He hated to be without one, and he liked having more than one.  He treasured his granddad's pocket watch, and kept it close by. He also enjoyed pocket knives. According to him, a man should never be without one. He used his for everything from cutting away the bark of a pitiful looking tree to check for any life to slicing apples. The man loves apples, and as his dementia worsened, he would devour 4 to 6 apples a day and swear he'd only had one!

He's always enjoyed a wide range of musical genre, so it was no surprise to find the CDs and the rather useless cassette tape. I am surprised that a Bob Wills tape didn't show up, but I'm sure several will be found as I go through stuff. Billy (BJ) as so many know him, was in a Western Swing band in college.  They cleverly named it the Bob Wills Band, and they had some interesting gigs!  He LOVED singing with that band. No Grammys were awarded to the Bob Wills Band, but a bond was forged that remains 30+ years later. BWISTK!

I really enjoyed looking at the pictures he carried of his family. He carried all his favorites of the kids. As so many parents do, he had more pictures of child number one - Shelley! He's carried the same photos for years, and you can tell by the condition of them. 

Shelley - from very young to teenage. 

Andrew - most baby pictures made of Drew included his sister! Such a handsome young man he became. 

He carried only one picture of me, and it was from the first summer after we began dating.  He went off to sell Bibles in the Carolinas, and we missed each other terribly. I had these pictures made for him (gotta dig the faux country background), and I certainly didn't know he would carry this around forever.  I was 19 and absolutely crazy about BJ Knowles.  It was a very long summer. 

In 1976, I met and fell in love with Billy Jack Knowles. We were very young and even more immature. Five years later, we stood before family and friends and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of our lives.  We had no idea what the future would hold, but I am positive that if I knew then what I know now, I would do it over again. I love and respect him more than ever as he became the best husband, father, son, uncle, and friend anyone would want. 

"Take care of your memories for you cannot relive them. "  Bob Dylan

Praise and Thanksgiving

When I posted my last blog, I received many comments through Facebook, email, and this blog assuring me that prayers were going up for Billy and all of us who care for him.  I posted on February 27th, and God answered my prayers on February 28th. When I went to feed Billy the evening of the 28th, he was a different person. He was responsive and smiled easily, and he told me he loved me. What a huge blessing! 



 

The next evening was even better. I spoke with the evening nurse who told me they increased his Seroquel and changed the Xanax to prn.  He always seems to "need" it more on the weekends. I'm not certain if his behavior is off on the weekends or if the expectations are different.

 

I was able to pick him yesterday afternoon and take him to our Saturday evening service at church.  It went well, and for the first time since the holidays, I took him home for a few hours for dinner and time with family.  He was in a great mood, and as soon as he walked in, he began petting his dog, Bailey, and said, "There she is!" I love this photo that my son-in-law, Andrew took.  He loves his dog!

 



 

 

I never doubt that God hears our prayers and answers them, but I don't always get his answer so quickly.  Praise Jesus for interceding and putting my mind at ease. I am not naive about Alzheimer's Disease, and I know the future for Billy unless God provides a miracle, but oh how relieved I am that I am not facing a more declined mental state at this time. I am always so grateful for your prayers.

 

 

My stress level was relieved tremendously this weekend. Billy was happy, Mom went home from rehab and is doing beautifully, and I will sleep in my own bed for the week. 

The Roller Coaster Continues

I should be getting my beauty sleep at this moment...or at least my survival sleep. But I find it necessary to write. Writing is therapy for me, and at this time in my life, it's less expensive than seeing the counselor! 

During the last few years of my life, stress has become routine, and while I don't know that I thrive on it, I seem to hold up well under the pressure. The last 6 weeks have almost done me in...and I'm not alone. Our entire family has been a bit stressed. In addition to the "usual" stress of a spouse with Alzheimer's, we've had an additional stress with the health of our parents. My sister, Leslie, and I were thrilled to move them into an assisted living apartment back in November. Mom has been battling cancer for about 18 months, and Dad has Lewybody Disease. His needs were becoming difficult for Mom to handle, and the responsibility of everything for Mom was really rough. Chemo is tough and with each phase of it, it seems to become even rougher. It also was not curing the cancer or even keeping it at bay, so after much concern and thorough research, it was determined that the best thing to do was remove the tumor surgically. We knew it was a complicated surgery with a lengthy recovery, but no one knew how complicated it would be, nor how many complications Mom would face. She withstood a 10 hour surgery on January 16th, stayed in the hospital for two weeks, and has been in a rehab hospital since then. She may get to go home this weekend!  We are hopeful.

Back to the stress part. Mom's surgery was in Dallas about an hour from where we all live. Our routine during her hospital stay was work all day, pick up Dad from their apartment where a caregiver had stayed with him during the day, and drive to Methodist Hospital in Dallas. Visit Mom for a few hours, take Dad back and spend the night with him. We are not comfortable leaving him alone, and he's not comfortable being alone. He still doesn't think of the apartment as home. Sometimes when we drive up, he says he hopes they have a vacancy for the night, or he asks if this is where he will live for the night.  The next day, whoever stays with Dad gets up, and starts the entire process again. After two weeks, Mom was able to move to a rehab facility that is blocks away from their apartment.  My stress lessened a bit because I no longer drove to Dallas several times per week. Mom has had numerous infections and a few setbacks, but we see great progress.

Now my routine is to work until about 4:00. Go pick up Dad from the apartment, take him to the rehab to see Mom. I leave him there and drive to the nursing home to feed Billy dinner, leave when he's eaten, go get fastfood for Dad and me, then return to the rehab place. On top of this, work has been crazy. I could write a few hundred pages about it, but I'll spare you all! My great comfort during high stress is FOOD! I'm not ready to face the music (or the groan) of the scales, but I know my clothes are feeling a bit stretched.

I have missed being able to see Billy each day. I know he will be fed, but I also know how short staffed they are, and I like feeding Billy. It's odd how he has to be fed because he has no trouble chewing and no noticeable choking, but if we don't feed him, he just sits there and might take a few bites but he ignores his food. It's difficult for him to get the food on his utensil and get it to his mouth. 

He had a pretty long streak of being fairly happy, alert, and compliant. That stopped a few weeks ago. The evening nurse from weekdays called to tell me that he was walking very differently and nearly falling. He was agitated and combative. The nurse wanted to speak with the psych nurse and see what could be done. I had also noticed his walking was even slower than before and not completely steady, but I didn't worry much about him falling and attributed it to the progression of AD.  The medical staff determined they would try to switch out the Ativan he was taking and give him Xanax. At first, it seemed to help a bit. A few days after he had been taking the Xanax, he used more complete sentences than he had been, and his wit was back. I went to pick him up on a Saturday afternoon, and as we were leaving one of the nurses told him she had not given permission for him to leave. She teases him often. He looked at her, and without missing a beat, he said, "We can go anywhere we want to go." I could even see the twinkle in his eyes. 

By the next Saturday, he had changed drastically. I got a call from the weekend nurse telling me that he was bent forward while walking, and they were very concerned about him falling. He refused assitance and tried to hit a few people. He also refused his meds and would NOT take them. The nurse asked if I would come early and see if I could help settle him. With the traffic in our area, it takes me at least 30 minutes to get to him, and when I walked in, I did not see him walking the hallway. I walked by his room and could see his feet on the bed. When I went in to see him, he was sleeping hard. In over a year, I've only see him on the bed 3 or 4 times. He does not nap, but they had calmed him enough to get some meds down him, and I decided he needed to sleep more than he needed to go with me. I received another call yesterday from the evening nurse, and it was almost the same call I got the previous Saturday....walking and pacing unsteadily and very combative. He had to take meds in order to eat. Today, I went to feed him, and he was calm and glazed. I hate glazed. I feel sure it's a mixture of the disease and the meds.

I usually hold it all together pretty well. Tonight was not one of those times. The tears were about to roll, so I told Billy it was time for me to go. He did walk down the hall with me after a bit of coaxing, and he offered a smile as I left. But I still went the restroom to cry.

This photo was taken on Valentine's Day just 13 days ago.  His eyes were brighter, and his smile was wonderful.

 

The video was taken this evening. He's not with me.

 

My hope and prayer is that tomorrow I will see Billy, and Billy will see me. I am so thankful I get to see this man any day, and I'm double thankful when he sees me. I hate this disease.

The Big D Strikes Too Often

Since my last post on the ninth, almost twenty days have passed, and during that time, our family has been busy. On the 15th, I had my second hearing with Medicaid. Today I got the response, and the words that struck me were something along the lines of the decisions made by the Medicaid case managers were incorrect.  Basically, some errors were made resulting in a delayed qualification for Billy to receive Medicaid. Their decision was not reversed by the hearing officer, but they are to reconsider the medical expenses I had for Billy up until he was qualified.  I'll keep you updated as I learn more.  The wheels turn slowly.

On the 16th, I drove my parents to Methodist Hospital in Dallas at 5 a.m.  Mom went into surgery to remove a cancerous tumor at 7:30, and the surgeons told us to expect that it would take 4 1/2 to 5 hours to complete the surgery. We heard from the nurse in the surgery at 9a.m., 11:30a.m., and again at 2:00. The main surgeon came to see us in the waiting room at 5:30p.m., and he looked tired. As he sat down, he said they had known this would be a complicated surgery, but until they got into Mom's belly, they really didn't know how complicated.  He described the tumor as about the size of an orange, superglued around her right ureter. They were determined to get it out in one piece, and they did. In doing so, they destroyed some blood vessels and veins and a  large portion of the ureter, but that's where the vascular surgeon and urologist came in and tidied up the veins and rebuilt the ureter. Neither were simple, and she remains in the hospital tonight and hopes to move to a rehab center on Wednesday. However difficult this has been, Mom is cancer-free! Praise be to God and His guidance of surgeon's hands.

The surgeons had been planning this surgery for a few months, and had practiced different scenarios. What a tremendous team!

During Mom's surgery and stay in the hospital, we (my sister, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, nephews, daughter, son-in-law, and I) have cared for my dad. Dad has Lewybody Disease that comes with dementia, and he should not be alone for long periods of time. Mom hired a caregiver to stay with him during the day, but we have taken turns driving Dad to and from the hospital and spending the night with him. My dad has always been a talker, and he has a vast vocabulary. He's well read, loved to do crossword puzzles, and holds a Master's Degree, so it really causes him disdain when he cannot locate a word he is searching for.  The drive to Dallas is an average of 45 minutes give or take a quarter of an hour. That's a long time for Dad to talk, and as dementia does, he sometimes makes little sense, but he certainly gets his point across in some areas. He is incredibly proud of his children and his grandchildren. He adores his wife, and he feels strongly that he is still a good driver!  None of us are willing to allow him to prove the driving part.

I have to share with you just how special my dad is to me, and I know that he is no less special to my sister or to my brother who passed almost 5 years ago.  We just came to be Dad's kids in different ways. Mom and Dad dated when my mom was a student at Polytechnic High School in Fort Worth and Dad was a student at TCU. Mom's aunt set them up on a blind date, and they hit it off nicely. Mom was in a hurry to grow up and get married, and Dad was not. They went their separate ways, and Mom met a charming scoundrel and married him. He was my biological father, and I have no recollection of him. I don't know many details because Mom does not like talking about it, but when I was about 7 months old, Mom left with me and we went into hiding - living with different relatives for short times. We couldn't stay very long with immediate family because he kept finding us and causing problems for Mom. We moved to Midland for a while and lived with one of Mom's cousins. Eventually, we moved to Abilene to live with Mom's aunt and uncle, and after a time Mom got a secretarial job and a small apartment within walking distance of a bus stop and the Highland Church of Christ. That's when she and Dad got back together. Dad's brother, my Uncle Alvin, rented a small apartment from Mom's aunt in Fort Worth, and he had helped move Mom to Abilene. He contacted Dad and mentioned that Alyce was divorced with a baby and just happened to live in Abilene. The rest is a sweet love story with the usual bumps in the road.

Mom and Dad married on December 18th just before I turned two years old on January 23rd.  Their honeymoon was certainly less than glamorous, but they did have a sitter for that. I stayed with my Aunt Tricia and Uncle Bob, and they still talk about how much I cried while I was away from my mom and dad. My earliest memories begin when I was about three, and I never remember a time that Dad wasn't my dad. He has never mentioned to me that I am not his biological kid, and with his dementia, he probably doesn't remember it.

The word thankful doesn't begin to describe how I feel about Dad. He has been a huge influence on who I am today, and I can't imagine a dad who could love me more. He taught me to ride a bike, to believe in myself, to drive a car and change a tire, and he modeled a healthy marriage with my mom. He was also pretty strict, did not give me my way always, and he remains a very stubborn man. In a time when I was growing up in a very conservative legalistic church, he taught me not to believe something just because a preacher said it. Study the Bible myself, and see if I agree.  My heart breaks that he now has dementia, but I am honored to be able to care for him like he always cared for me.

Dad watched Billy decline over several years. He cried when we talked about Billy's diagnosis, and little did we know that he would face the same ugly dementia. Several times over the last few weeks, Dad has asked me if I plan to finish my degree. I always say, "Well, I've gone as far as I plan to with my degree, Dad.  I have my master's degree, and I don't feel like I have the energy to work on my doctorate." 

His reply is always surprise and pride. "Well, I didn't know that. I'm so proud of you."  What a privilege to be chosen by such a man.

The Bed is Gone

There was a time in my life when my stomach would sink walking into a nursing home. My visits to the "old folks home" as a child were limited. My Sunday school teacher in fifth grade took us to visit residents, and I was terribly uncomfortable while there.  The smell bothered me, the bony fingers that wanted to touch us frightened me. None of my grandparents were in a facility before they passed, so most of my experiences were visits with Billy's mom, Aleta Asher. She was in a two different facilities through the duration of her disease, and I grew a bit more comfortable in that setting but not completely. I didn't visit often enough to grow accustomed to the strangeness of the behaviors.

As we approach a full year with Billy living in Lexington Place, I can say I'm okay there. The residents in the memory unit know me. I can handle the noises, the blank stares, the mumbled utterances, the random cursing, the occasional choking and the lack of respect for personal space. What I will never grow accustomed to is the death that comes with this disease. The unit has 9 rooms - 18 beds. I know the residents and their rooms. As I walk down the hall, I can see them if they are in their beds, and today I saw a bed missing. The name was removed, and I couldn't place who had been there. I asked the nurse whose bed was gone, and he told me it was Betty.

"When?" I asked, and Raymond answered, "Today.  It was so hard to see."

In truth it's been difficult to watch Betty in the last few months. She's been terribly sad since she could no longer walk. Those of you who have followed me a while may remember that I referred to her as walking Betty. She walked up and down the hall for hours a day. She was a beautiful statuesque lady with porcelain skin and thick silver hair. I heard her speak a handful of times, but I heard her scream and saw her cry many more times as the disease ravaged her ability to walk, her desire to eat, and finally her life.  

I hate Alzheimer's Disease. It's a disease where you watch your loved one die going backwards from adulthood to adolescent to childhood and back to being a baby who needs to be fed and bathed and diapered.  I hope it's a long while before I notice that another bed is gone.

Gratitude and Hope

Prologue to blogpost. I've mentioned my good friend, Karen Fletcher, in my posts before. Karen and I were friends in high school and graduated together, went to college together, and we lost contact for several years. We re-connected after a few decades and found that both of our husbands had dementia (her husband's diagnosis was Inclusion Body Myositis that often comes with frontal lobe dementia, and Billy has Alzheimer's Disease), and Karen had just placed her husband, George, in an assisted living facility. It wasn't difficult to see why God led us back to our friendship. For the last few years, we've met monthly for dinner. For the first time, one of us had to cancel last week when Karen called and said George was sick with the flu, and she just couldn't leave him. The next day, the medical staff felt he had suffered a stroke also, but at that time he was fairly stable. Since Karen was also sick with strep throat, she went to the doctor and home to rest. The next morning, she received a call that George was declining rapidly, and he passed away that afternoon. Tomorrow I will attend George's funeral, and I will hug Karen tightly and wonder what I can say that will convey how terribly sorry I am. This is my third friend to lose her spouse to a dementia related disease in less than one year. Karen Henley lost Mike last February, and Delores lost David in October. Now George has passed. Each woman of faith knows that her loving husband is whole again, but the pain of their earthly absence is not diminished. Lord, come quickly.

As we close out 2012, I remember well how I was feeling this time last year. Holiday time had been tough. Billy's needs exceeded my abilities, and I knew it was time for a residential placement. I can hardly believe that in less than a month Billy will have lived in Lexington Place for a full year. I am at peace about Billy living there with caregivers around the clock - all of whom care deeply about the residents and are trained to care for patients with dementia.  A few of the aides work very well with Billy, and some of the others are less connected to him, but they get the job done. Dementia patients depend on routine, and the nursing home staff provides consistency in the nurses, but the aides rotate on a schedule I have never figured out. I find myself grateful for so much this past year. My list follows.

• Jesus. Lord and savior, comforter, Prince of Peace, the Great I Am.
• Billy. I'm thankful I can still touch him, hold his hand, kiss his lips, and stroke his face. He is drifting away from us in so many ways, but he knows that I love him, and many days, he knows my name. His spirit knows my spirit. I am grateful.
• The staff that cares for Billy each day. I can assure you they do not make enough money for all they do. One aide brings nice shampoos and bodywash, so she can shower the residents with something other than the all purpose soap that dries out their skin and hair. Another aide brings him burgers from McDonalds to snack on.
• Memories. The good ones especially, and the not as good ones because they are reality. Billy was big on tradition, and he didn't like to veer from it. He loved Christmas, and in spite of his years working with Wolfe Nursery where the Christmas season meant 12 and 14 hour work days often in very cold temperatures, he enjoyed decorating our house with lights that outlined our house and rivaled the Griswalds.  Each year he got on the roof and freehanded the shape of Texas in Christmas lights, and then he wrote Merry Texas Christmas inside the outline.
• Family. We have always been a loving family and what I would consider a close family. With all the "events" in the last several years, we are more loving, more tightly knit, and living in close proximity of each other, and we never take each other for granted.
• Friends. How would we survive without them? We are bolstered daily by those who pray for us, check in with us, laugh with us and cry with us. I am touched by those who visit Billy even though it's so difficult for them to see him like he is now. I am humbled and grateful to those who so generously help with the financial burden of caring for Billy.
• My job. As a good friend often says, I love my job always, and on bad days I still like my job. I work with remarkable people who care deeply about children and always help me focus on what is important.  

My hopes and prayers for 2013:

• I pray that Billy remains stable for as long as possible. For the over 31 years I've been married to Billy, he never weighed less than 200 pounds, and I never minded that. I pray that his weightloss will stabilize because he's lost over 50 pounds and a great deal of muscle mass.
• A cure for Alzheimer's Disease that will spare generations to come.
• I pray for the successful removal of my mom's tumor and a cancer-free life for her.
• I pray that my dad's disease stabilizes.
• Reconciliation and forgiveness in broken relationships.

I could write many more prayers for this coming year, and I most likely will. However, these are the most prevalent in my life at the moment.

I've struggled with writing lately. Everytime I decided to write, I couldn't find my positive spin. The holiday season has been busy, stressful, and some of the days seem blurred. I'm coming out of my fog and seeing the positives again. Happy New Year to all, and thank you for reading. God is faithful.