Moving Mom

It is a bitterly cold January morning. Today we are moving my Mom from her retirement apartment to a small bedroom in a very nice adult family home. Mom has had three falls since Oct. 6^th that have necessitated using her LifeLine, two of them involving EMS. Her memory is getting poorer and her ability to take her own medications independently has faded away. Due to wet macular degeneration, her vision is now 20/50 and 20/60, remaining that good because of eye injections which she understandably hates. She has suffered from depression for many years and frequently holes herself up in her apartment, not participating in the enjoyable social life of her building. We might have kidded the situation along for another two or three months, but would then have risked a broken hip or head injury. So, it is time.

I am not alone. My wonderful husband and amazing daughter will be at my side today, as we take Mom to a new place that will certainly feel very strange to her. In the process of moving her and vacating her apartment, our family will eventually dispose of almost all of the material possessions that have defined ninety years of living: a childhood spent in a loving family, a short and difficult marriage, two daughters, five grandchildren, and now seven great-grandchildren.

My daughter is going to scan some of the family photos and put them up on Apple TV so that she can have a scrolling slideshow in her new room that won’t accommodate all of the photos that have accumulated on every surface in her current home. We will also be able to FaceTime with Mom in that way.

We have been blessed many times over during this transition, which began on Dec. 13^th with a fall. Today is Jan. 3^rd. Kind members of our church guided us toward an adult family home with five other ladies in their nineties, right here in our small rural town. I did not want my mother far away. The adult family home responded to my call with a vacancy, an almost unheard-of answer to prayer. It’s a lovely place with a very well-known positive reputation in our tiny town, which holds few secrets. Mom’s current residence has responded with great generosity: meals brought twice a day for weeks to her apartment, managers who put themselves out to help us, residents popping by to see Mom and encourage her, one lady who is sharing her precious right-by-the-entrance parking space with us so that our loading in 18 degree weather is made easier. Yesterday part-time staff of the residence moved furniture for us and will move more, at no charge to my Mom.

Mom will keep her beloved doctor and a pharmacy that knocks themselves out for her. Home health has been wonderful. The simplest little measures that they suggest, like raising Mom’s bed higher, have provided her with easier moments. Our pastor has already been by to see her, right during the holiday season, and I will continue taking her to Mass when she is able.

On Christmas, our daughter and her family brought Christmas in their SUV sleigh: presents and snuggles and a complete Christmas dinner in Crockpots in Mom’s little kitchen. At one point in the package opening, which takes all day in our family, everybody took a break. Mom went to bed and the grandkids and great-grandkids went out sledding on the hills behind the retirement apartment building on that bright, sunshine-y, bitterly cold afternoon. It was a Christmas we will never forget. There are so many other families with much greater challenges to face.

I was reading something last night about how suffering is essential to the spiritual life. This is a teaching I do not care for. I want the happy moments of life. I do not want to watch a beautiful ninety year old retired registered dietitian and school teacher enter a new life that no longer holds many of the things which defined her. Not just thing things, but the ability to dial a phone and walk independently. I do not like green eggs and ham.

But, there must be something to suffering that I cannot see. Jesus suffered and He didn’t even need to. The eye doctor who gives Mom the injections she hates which will allow her to see the face of our newest baby in the family next July told her that, in exchange for suffering one day a month, she is able to see the rest of the time.

There is suffering in life and today is a day that will cause suffering to my mother. It will also cause suffering to me and my husband and our daughter, and many others as well. But, the other thing that is characteristic of life, and faith, is love. My Mom is willing to graciously make this move, rather than bitterly fighting it, as so many elders do, because she wants to do what is right for her, and for me. She loves her family more than she fears a scary unknown. And the rest of us love her more than we can say.

It’s time to begin a day that will be filled with suffering . . . and with love. I ask for your positive thoughts and, if you are of a praying persuasion, your prayers this morning. May God bless my Mom, and all of you.