"...because he is afraid of humans."

A couple days ago I was in the midst of a busy getting-everybody-ready-for-school frenzy and I was sitting on the end of a bed with a pile of clothes.  For some reason every step of progress that morning was feeling like a battle.  I called again. "Please come here so I can help you get dressed!"  In response to my request, I watched this child scoot further into a corner and then peek out from behind a basket of toys and say, "ruff ruff."
One of my daughters poked her head out of the closet and said, "Mama.  He is a puppy and he can't come to you because he is the kind of puppy that is afraid of humans."

Oh my word.  It is a really good thing that I have kids to help me interpret my kids.  I thought about this predicament for a minute and then I said in a falsetto voice, "Baby Puppy!  This is your Mamma Doggie!  Please come here so I can help you put on your puppy undos!"  Immediately, my puppy came quickly on all fours, and happily allowed me to help him get dressed, smiling the whole time and saying "Ruff Ruff!" so that I wouldn't forget what kind of creature he was in that moment.  We moved from that to "Puppy breakfast" and "Puppy paw washing"  and taking people to "puppy school"  and my whole morning shifted from challenging to smooth once I knew what language we were speaking.
My people keep me on my toes... because you know, tomorrow isn't going to be a puppy morning.  We might never have a puppy morning again.  Dragons, Dinosaurs, Ninjas, Firefighters....  I never know.

Kids make life so... interesting.  But you know, grown-ups really aren't much different.

We tend to be more dignified and complicated... but we long to be understood.  I can recall a couple of really significant emotionally charged discussions with my husband that made a quick shift when I suddenly felt like he understood me, even if he didn't agree.

Shortly after we combined households my mom and I had a disagreement. Going into the discussion I had felt like it was really important for her to see why she was wrong so that she could change.  (I know, for some reason I get that in my head sometimes.  What this world really needs is a reformed Grandma, and I'm on my mission.) Somewhere in the midst of our conversation I had a deeper realization that my mom felt alone and afraid.  She left behind her home of 36 years, her friends, and her church family.  There is so much uncertainty with my dad's health and future and she is trying to navigate that.  Suddenly it didn't seem so important to make sure she understood me.  When I had eyes to see where she was coming from, I could just say, "This is hard and I'm sorry.  We are here."  And I can tell her that we are here for her and we are, but that doesn't change the fact that it's hard.

So once again, in a different way, I have seen the importance of seeking to understand before making sure that I'm understood.  There will be other days and other conversations that will need to be resolved differently, but this time, this is what we both needed.

In case you are curious, both my parents are reading this blog.  We are committed to working through the difficulties together and I am committed to writing about the difficulties in a way that honors and respects them.  I don't know how that's going to work, but I also know that this blog is only going to be meaningful if we are willing to talk about the hard parts.  I want to be able to talk about the challenges and how we deal with them.  That's the hard part of hard things... they are hard.  But we know that God is with us and that as we learn and grow together we don't have to be afraid of the things that are hard.  We know that His strength will be sufficient for each step.

State of our Union Address

At this point I feel like it's appropriate to just stop for a minute and assess the "state of our union."  As of today we have been living together for four and a half months, and I am happy to report that we are doing well.  I was a little bit afraid that moving would be hard on my dad and that we might see a steep decline with the stress of moving and adjusting to a whole new environment.  So far he has done really well.  He has worked hard at learning his way around a new city and figuring out bike paths and where he can ride his bike.  We are all figuring out the new grocery stores and finding the close by library and swimming pool.


**My dad even directed me through the back roads to the DMV, and took me right there.  Oh, the irony.  We were upgrading his licence for an ID card, and he now has the official honor of being chauffeured anywhere he wants to go.  He proudly directed me right where to go, and then turned to me and said with a smile, "Well, what do you know?  Some of my neuro-pathways are connecting just fine!" **


I think that we are entering what I had anticipated as being the "not-so-hard" season of living together.  In fact, I think we are having fun. It's all an adjustment, but a happy new "normal."


 A couple weeks ago we went on a family bike ride.  All seven of us.  Bike riding is one of my dad's favorite things to do and it was Grandparents Day, and it was sunny, but not unbearably hot.  We loaded up seven bikes and seven people and we made our way to the bike trail that runs along the Columbia River near the airport.  Grandpa couldn't go as far as he usually does but one of our younger participants was peddling her heart out with her training wheels and we were able to keep a pace and a length of time that worked well for everyone.


It feels good to do the things that we can do together, while we are able.


Have you ever rocked your babies for a just a little longer... or read just one more story than you really intended to, because you knew the days were fleeting? Little moments… a silly dance in the kitchen.  a wholehearted laugh.  Eskimo kisses. Little moments that a camera couldn’t really capture but you still try to tuck them away into the memory of your heart?


That's where we are right now, having a lot of days that are worth savoring.



Three-and-a-half feet above the flood plain

Our house sits in the "100 year flood plain".  I put that in quotes because I had never heard that term before we bought the house and I didn't really know what it meant.  Now I have come to understand that there is a greater chance of lots of water coming onto our property and surrounding our house.  I think the land has been flooded before.  Maybe sometime in the past 100 years.  You can tell already that I'm pretty detail oriented and I like to keep track of technical terms and what they mean.  I'll look it up sometime, and keep you posted.  But the important thing for you to know is that builder of our house knew that no one would really want to live in the middle of a flood zone, so he brought in loads and loads of dirt.  And as dirt and fill were brought in, every 6 inches of dirt would be compacted down to make the ground under the house solid.  Then after that, he built the foundation up so that our house actually sits three and a half feet above the flood plain.  

The bottom line for us meant a bit of a headache with paperwork and high rates of flood insurance and forms that needed to be submitted to FEMA.  At one point in the middle of too many things that I didn't understand, I asked God why He was giving us a really great house in the middle of a flood zone.  (Every once in a while I like to do that. I point out to God what looks like kind of a flaw in His plan.)  I started out a conversation with God by saying, "I have a really good idea. You probably didn't think of this before, but maybe you could find us a house that is NOT in a flood plain.  How about that?"  And then in my heart he whispered, "Sweet Child.  You aren't in the flood plain.  You are above it."  In my mind I could see our house, but it wasn't held up by the foundation, it was held by His hands.  Storms could come and water rise, but we would be held above the floods.

And suddenly this house seemed so fitting for us.  It is a physical picture of what we are feeling emotionally.  Walking into the storm, knowing that the waters will rise. Sometimes God calls us into the storms... to live in the flood plain and to know that His hands are holding us keeping us from being consumed.  

Our House

After it had been decided that our family was going to live with Grandma and Grandpa we spent a couple of Saturdays looking at houses together.  It was exhausting.  There were a few houses that my mom and I liked but my husband hated and my dad despised. There were so many things for us to consider.  We needed enough space for all of us.  We needed a large bedroom and bathroom on the main floor because my dad needed to be done with stairs.  We needed close proximity to school and work.  After looking at just a couple houses, I started to realize that finding a house that fit our criteria and that all four adults in the process liked was going to be a miracle.  


We found several houses that would almost work.  A few that might require some significant renovation... but we could do it.  Then we found our house.  A larger house at the end of a quiet street.  a big yard with a little creek running through the front.  Only a couple steps up the porch.  A really beautiful master suite  with a master bathroom on the main floor and then upstairs and at the other end of the house there were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a living room. It almost felt like it had been built for us.


The problem was that it was a little "too grand" for us.  Almost everything in the house is really high end, there are decorative pillars all over the place.  We are more down-to-earth kind of people.  Not really pillars and super-high end everything people.  But we had looked at hundreds of houses online and walked though quite a few houses and this was the first house we found that had everything we needed with no major renovations needed.  Because we were a little bit out of town we got more house and it was in our price range.


I'll be honest.  It's still hard for me sometimes.  The house, and its grandness doesn't really reflect who we are.  It's the people inside that reflect what we value.  We are choosing to live together, to care for each other and to help each other out.  We are walking into a hard season and we are drawing each other close and walking through it together.  That is why we are here.  Not everybody is going to be able to see that.  But sometimes I need to care a lot less about what I think other people might see.


Recently I bought my 3 year old a new bike.  It was $6.99 at Goodwill, and it came with a working bell, AND a flashing red light.  Can you believe it?  Right! He couldn't either.  He was soooo excited.  I love to give gifts to my kids and watch their excitement.  


Our house is a gift from God, and I am thankful for this gift, but I'm more thankful for the less tangible gift of what this house represents.  This is a place where we can be together.  My kids can enjoy their grandparents and my parents can enjoy their grand kids and we have enough space to make this season a joy and a blessing and not a constant hardship.  I will not overlook that gift.  

Our Story

In January of this year, (2015) my father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia.  It was quickly clear that my parents were going to need help in the not-so-distant future.  After many discussions we decided to look for a place for us to live together.  My parents put their house on the market and quickly sold the house I'd grown up in, and the house that they had called home for 36 years.  My husband and I found renters for our little house in Portland OR.  Now, we live just outside of Portland in one big house with my parents and our three kids, ages 7, 5, and 3.  This blog is to document the joys and struggles of living in community, and to record some of the painful beauty of walking with someone we love as they battle a degenerative disease.  My hope is to encourage others who walk a similar road.