A first time for everything

You never know what the day will bring when you wake up in the morning. Especially if you're a parent. And today...well, today was a day of firsts.

I called in a report to Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks for the first time today. A young mother deer and her two fawns have been frequenting our backyard, leaving scat and eating apples from our tree. This hasn't bothered me and we've enjoyed watching them from the window, but this morning we noticed one of the fawns had a broken leg. And by broken, I mean BROKEN. The jagged, bloody bone was sticking out and the rest of the leg was hanging by a small piece of hide.

So I called it in. I was afraid for it. Believe it or not, the lady at Fish, Wildlife, and Parks said the deer would probably be fine.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Half its leg is hanging off."

She was sure.

We also accepted our first foster placement today. Some time tomorrow a newborn boy will be discharged from the hospital and come to our home for at least 30 days. We've been scrambling to find clothes, bottles, diapers, and all the other little things you forget you need. People have been SO gracious to offer help! But honestly we have no idea what we're in for. He will be the first foster child to come through our doors. Maybe the first of many, but who knows?

Perhaps the most shocking first of the day came via my oldest son. Today was the first time he's had the self-awareness to be embarrassed of me.

"Are you going to wear that?" he asked.

"Um, yes."

He rolled his eyes. "Those look like pajamas."

Holy cow, who is this gangly man-child? Since when did he even NOTICE, let alone CARE about clothes, whether mine, his, or anyone else's? Someone hand me a brown paper bag please, I need to breathe into it for a minute. This was a definite first, but I have a feeling it won't be the last.

And the day's not even over yet. Good thing I have a secret stash of candy that my kids don't know about.

So what kind of memorable "firsts" have you experienced?

Love never fails

It's long been one of my greatest fears: Alzheimer's. Dementia. I fear slipping away into the murky, gray sludge of confusion, perhaps greater than I fear death itself. I fear changing into someone who can't remember the love and bonds I share with my friends and family, the blessing they've been to me, and all the ways they've cared for me over the years.

It's a terrifying prospect.

I watched my grandma forget and change. The mind that had been so sharp for so long, solving crossword puzzles and memorizing poems and recalling the names and faces of everyone she ever met, turned into a tangled web of childhood memories and paranoia. The tongue that had encouraged me and told me stories turned sharp, as she sank deeper into the fear only those losing their minds can understand and the rest of us can only hope to never know.

But the most painful part was watching her love for my grandpa and reliance on his steadfast presence in her life turn into distrust, suspicion, and anger. The accusations she made against him burned my soul. I don't know if there's anything sadder than watching a man who has stood faithfully by his bride for over 50 years try to keep loving her, keep caring for her, keep trying to get through to her, even when she can see nothing but the murky grayness. And doing it because he knows of nothing else to do. She is his only purpose.

"You don't care about me," a woman shouted, just this morning at the nursing home. Her husband gently tried to nudge her into the room where a sing-a-long was about to commence. I'm sure he knew she loved music and would enjoy the time.

But she slapped at him and screamed in his face. "You don't care! You don't care!"

Her eyes were fire and spit but his were brokenness and desperation. 'I only want what's best for you,' they said. 'I care more than you'll ever know.'

Is it too big a burden to bear? After a person has given some 50 years of their life to another, must they also carry the weight of the fear and anger and murky grayness? Could anyone blame them for turning their loved one over to someone else and hoping they'll never remember? Maybe not.

But what is love, really? 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 tells us: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

Love never fails. Perhaps there is nothing more beautiful and sacrificial than the man who loves his wife to the bitter end, even when her mind has surrendered to the grayness and he receives nothing but anger and fear in return. No greater embodiment of the love spoken of in the Bible than the man who braces himself for the slapping hands of his wife and quietly says, "It's okay, dear. I think you're going to like the music. I'll be waiting for you in the hall when you're ready."

In these examples of love, I see myself, shouting hateful words and slapping angry hands at my God from the murky grayness of my own mind, which is tainted by sin and brokenness and can't see things perfectly as His does. But He does not fight back, or abandon me, or throw my words back in my face. He just gently nudges me toward what He knows is good, even as I protest, and tells me, "It's okay. You're okay. I'll be waiting for you when you're ready."

Love never fails.

An honest question

On Sunday, we arrived at church earlier than usual, because Andy was scheduled to preach and he had some last minute preparations to take care of. The kids were good sports about it, but by the time the service started we'd already been there for about two hours. We arranged ourselves in our customary pew with a sigh of relief.

First, some announcements were given. Bridal shower Wednesday, June 22. More volunteers needed for the Community Café. Clothing for the Syrian refugees can be dropped off in the foyer. The usual.

Then, something less "usual" occurred. A missionary family we know was attending the service that morning to visit before returning to India to continue their work. Aaron, the head of this wonderful family, was invited onto the stage to share about his family's plans as they prepared to head back to the mission field. He approached the microphone with a big smile.

"I'm really excited to hear Andy preach this morning," he began. "So I'll try to make this brief."

From there, he went on to share about some of the things his family has been doing and some of the changes that are happening in their ministry. His passion was evident as he spoke of the city to which his family would be moving, and the therapy center for children they would be assisting with.

After a few minutes, Simon leaned over to Andy and whispered loudly.

"Daddy!"

"Yeah, buddy?" Andy whispered back.

"If he's so excited to hear you preach, why is he still talking?"

Well, it's a valid question.