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Hello friends,

Today I am writing about a tender part of my journey with my mother-in-law. She is in an advanced stage of dementia. Her husband had Alzheimer’s and recently passed away. I created an art journaling spread to go along with this blog post. I hope that it is inspiring and encouraging.

Tim and I met nearly 40 years ago and married 36 years ago. I was 15 when we met, he was 17. His parents have always been kind to me but they had their doubts as to whether I would stay married to their son. They thought that because my mother was divorced that, surely I would do the same. Like divorce is hereditary. I rejected that silly notion and went on with my life. The Wolf’s are/were devout Catholics. Went to church every Saturday night until their mental challenges began. While they always ensured their boys had enough food to eat, clothes to wear and ample opportunities for sports and fishing, they really did not know how to show love or affection. Perhaps, it was the thing of that day. I am not sure. This was the backdrop for my in-law relationship. My mother-in- law was good to me but she made it very clear and often that I was not blood and so I was not really family. I knew her hearts limitations and yet each time it happened, it pricked my heart. As our kids got older, the grandparents weren’t there for them or for us. They wanted their own life. They spent half their year in Arizona. They avoided getting together when they were in town. They were distant and unattached. Everyone got used to it. They didn’t know how to be in relationship. That was who they became. When mental health declined, they were, in large part, alone. It was the life they created. If we would visit, they would send us away. Who knows why…

As a child, I went through immense levels and abuse. I have journeyed through the deepest holes in myself around that. The “mother hole”, I call it. This post is not about my mother though. Just added for some context for the meaning of this journey with my mother-in-law.

I did not know love without abuse or a price. I did not feel accepted, treasured, nurtured or cared for as a daughter should. I will not be with my mom in the stages when she begins to die…heart wrenching, in it’s own way. But, I cannot.

So, being with my mother-in-law now has become quite a redemptive process for us both. She is tender, kind, giving and always trying to give her food away. I can’t go and visit her without her wanting to share her food with me. I never felt like she liked me or approved of me, but because of the healing Jesus has done in my heart, it doesn’t matter anymore. Today is about loving her. Being there for her. Making sure she knows that I care. That she is not alone. Both in living and dying, I don’t want her to be alone. She is precious. She can’t form a cohesive sentence anymore but she smiles and shrugs and I giggle, though, by then, she has no idea what we are smiling or giggling about. It is so sweet. She seems to not have mental torment and for the most part doesn’t seem bothered by her inability to process thought or get words out, as she had in the beginning.

She is frail, small and weak. I go and sit with her for dinner several times a week and I just soak her up. I hold her hand. I brush her hair out of her eyes. I assist her in the bathroom and sometimes help her get ready for bed by undressing and dressing her. I sit with her in her confused state as she asks “where is Jake? am I a widow? I don’t know what I am supposed to be doing”. I say, “nothing Mom, nothing.” Yes, I call her mom. I chose to do that. Perhaps if she were clear in thought, she wouldn’t like it, but I do it anyway. I feel like it gives something back to her that she never knew she needed and it surely gives something back to me. I hold her hand and squeeze. She smiles and thinks she is squeezing me. She asks, “is that too tight?”. I say, “no mom”, it is just right. I put my head on her shoulder occasionally. Sometimes, she cries and I just stop where we are and hold her. It is a little reversed, but I am so blessed to be there.

She loves dessert, it is her favorite thing they serve. They eat SO MUCH dessert. Hey, these beautiful elderly deserve it. I walk the halls. I greet residents by name if I know them. Say hello. Give a shoulder squeeze or eye contact. Some, look blankly at me, while others light up. Mom doesn’t know who I am, she just knows I come and see her often. It matters. It is hard, but it matters. Yesterday I was there and I greeted a resident who is very lost. I asked her if she wanted to walk with us. She took my left hand while mom was on my right. They were both talking, broken talking, at the same time. Neither having any idea that anyone else was there. It was so sweet. I kept looking from one to the other and chuckling 🙂

What a beautiful place to be…between 2 mothers. This journey is hard but it is also so beautiful, it is difficult to capture in words. I will care for her until I cannot. I will take in the moments with her and tuck them away in my mom hole and let them grow. I feel honored to be with her. Grateful for snippets of clarity, for glimpses of the girl she once was. I will absorb the tenderness and grace and allow Jesus to multiply it so that I have more to give 🙂

“A moment in time”…yes. For now, she simply has moments. I cherish them with her. I witness them for her. I will remember them. I will allow Jesus to redeem everything He wants to redeem. This is where the beauty lies.