I zipped through a resale store today to look for some sturdy bar stools that may need a coat of paint. For fun, I breezed through the home decor section, as I am always on the lookout for a glass bird or a China tea cup or some other unique treasure.
This little vase caught my eye. “Life whispers, listen closely.” This seemed like a secret message meant just for me. Perhaps the other 100 or so people who meandered through this store today thought the same thing.
I am with Mama tonight. Her confusion and hopelessness bring a sadness to me. There are several reasons.
First, I am sad for her. She does not smile. She is not lighthearted. She does not verbally express trust in her Lord, though I know in her heart, she trusts.
She has no confidence. She worries that others know her business and are out to get her. She is afraid.
Dementia is like a devious snake that winds its way through her mind, hissing and slithering into areas of inherent darkness.
Second, I am sad for me. Am I looking into a mirror at my future self? How many healthy years do I have left? Will my children become frustrated with me? Feel pity for me? Will I be alone and afraid?
If life is whispering to me, am I listening?