Bathsheba

I didn't write much in January and it was largely beca^use I spent most of my free time working on a lesson for our PWOC's January series on the five women in the genealogy of Christ. In lieu of January blog posts, here is my lesson on Bathsheba:  

Last week, Kristen spoke to us about stories: the elements of a story and why the stories matter to us. The stories in the Bible shape our faith and, in the case of our family stories, they point to who we are…just as the genealogy of Christ tells us who HE is. Today, we will look at another story that shapes who we are and how we understand Christ. She is listed in Matthew as simply the Wife of Uriah, bur she is Bathsheba.

I love that Kristen spoke about stories because that has been the question on my heart since receiving this assignment: Five women were included in the Genealogy. Since this is a clear break from what would be typical of the time…there must be something important that these stories impart. What does the writer want me to learn, to understand and to take away from this story? What does it tell me about Christ and about myself? (I also questioned what I was doing with this task, but that’s a story for another day!)

If you have spent any time at all with me…you know I love to talk. I love stories and I love details…when I meet someone, I want to know their story. I want to sit down and ask them where are you from, WHO you area, who you used to be, where you are going, what you want to do, what makes you happy and WHY. But, that’s a bit intense so I try to refrain myself and act normal. I felt the same way about Bathsheba…WHO was she? What REALLY happened? How did she feel? What did she say? What did she wear? (Nothing, apparently?!)

When I began this study, I honestly thought I KNEW her story already. Bathsheba: adulteress, cheated on her husband with King David, husband was killed, lost the baby and then married King David. Seriously, if it’s not right out of Army Wives: Old Testament Edition, I’m not sure what would be. BUT, like so many stories we hear. I knew the basics but lacked a full understanding. I opened up my Bible and read her story…as Kristen said: with NEW eyes. I wasn’t reading this story to focus on David’s sin and repentance…I wanted to know about Bathsheba and her experience.

I’m going to read the first part of her story from 2 Samuel, Chapter 11…you can follow along or just listen, but try to focus on what we are given about HER.

In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.
One evening David got up from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing. The woman was very beautiful, and David sent someone to find out about her. The man said, “She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” Then David sent messengers to get her. She came to him, and he slept with her. (Now she was purifying herself from her monthly uncleanness.) Then she went back home. The woman conceived and sent word to David, saying, “I am pregnant.”

I’m going to just briefly summarize the rest of Chapter 11, because it’s more about David than about Bathsheba. Basically, David decides to hide his tracks. He summons Uriah from the front. Wines him, dines him and sends him home for the night, hoping he’ll spend some quality time with his wife. Uriah is an honorable soldier and it doesn’t work. He sleeps outside on the ground since that’s where his soldiers are. King David tries again and again, it doesn’t work. So, he goes with plan B: send Uriah to the front lines, mount a tactically bad assault and hope he is killed. This is exactly what happens, so King David then plays the benevolent and caring leader, and takes his loyal soldier’s widow under his protection, as wife.

When I looked for answers about Bathsheba, I was frustrated. There wasn’t much about her. In Matthew, she is referred to simply as the “Wife of Uriah.” I dug through Chronicles, Kings and Psalms…not much. I discovered it was very hard to separate her from David’s story because they are so intertwined. But: I really felt that if God felt it important that she be listed in the genealogy of Christ, then it must be for a reason so I needed to focus on her!

Here’s what the Bible gives us, in this order:
She’s bathing outside
She’s really attractive
She’s married
She’s summoned by Messengers to King David
She sleeps with King David
She becomes pregnant
She sends a message to King David
She is widowed and mourns.
She becomes King David’s wife
She gives birth to a son
She loses her son
She gives birth to another son.

I don’t know about you but I have a whoooooole lot of questions that are unanswered. There are a lot of connections there that are not made. For example, WHY did she do it? Did she WANT to sleep with King David? Did she know King David summoned her husband? Did she even see her husband while he was back? Did she know King David was plotting to kill her husband? Did she want to become his wife?

How should we understand her story?

In my quest for answers, I discovered that there are several different interpretations about her story. I’ll deal with the two extremes and then tell you what I think.

First is the view that I thought I knew. She was adulteress. She tempted King David by bathing in view and wanted a liaison with a king. Her sins were immodesty, lust and adultery. Pretty straight forward, except that 2Samuel 11:27 says: “…But the thing David had done displeased the Lord.” David. Not David and Bathsheba. God delivers a message to David through the prophet Nathan in 2 Samuel, Chapter 12.

First, Nathan came to David with a parable of a rich man and a poor man. The rich man had a huge flock of sheep and the poor man had but one little ewe that he cared for tenderly. The rich man took the poor man’s ewe. When David hears this, he burns with anger and declares the man that has done this should be put to death. He demands to know who did this deed and this is Nathan’s reply:

Nathan then said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the LORD God of Israel, ‘It is I who anointed you king over Israel and it is I who delivered you from the hand of Saul. ‘I also gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your care, and I gave you the house of Israel and Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added to you many more things like these! ‘Why have you despised the word of the LORD by doing evil in His sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the sons of Ammon.‘Now therefore, the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised Me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.’ “Thus says the LORD, ‘Behold, I will raise up evil against you from your own household; I will even take your wives before your eyes and give them to your companion, and he will lie with your wives in broad daylight. ‘Indeed you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel, and under the sun.’”

It’s a pretty scathing condemnation, right? But Bathsheba, is only mentioned briefly. Through it all, and at David’s own admission in verse 13, it is David that has sinned against the Lord. Not Bathsheba.

Some of what I read indicated that she was behaving immodestly by bathing outside, but, at this time in history, that wouldn’t have been unusual. Though archeologists and historians still argue over the exact location of David’s palace, there are a few things that they can agree on. Ancient homes in Jerusalem were typically built with a walled-in courtyard where bathing was normally done. Bathing was typically done in the evening, just after sunset. If this is true, then what she was doing wasn’t that unusual and there was some expectation of privacy. Archeologists also believe that the palace was on a hill (I read a very interesting a series of reports making an argument that the palace was located north of the area known as the City of David and just outside the city wall…) Regardless, 2Samuel mentions “going down” to Uriah’s house several times in this narrative, which seems to support the elevation of the palace. The homes of those important would have been just down the hill, relatively close to the palace. Uriah was one of the 30-or so members of the Royal Guard, elite fighters and some who may have been with him since he fled Saul, so he certainly would have had a certain status and likely lived in close proximity to the castle. So…it would appear that Bathsheba was doing nothing out of the ordinary in her bathing routine. In fact, the way the account is given in 1 Samuel, it appears David is the one out of routine, since he failed to go to war that spring and is out wandering the rooftops instead of attending to his duties.

The opposite of this is the view that she was raped. I read a couple of very long and technical [also rather boring] articles that basically put forth the argument that she was “taken” against her will. The articles studied the Hebrew verbs used in the passages describing these events and compared them to typical usage of the time. Their conclusion is that the verb choices imply she was an unwilling partner. Confession time: I don’t read Hebrew. Nor am I a historian. So, I can’t offer my own interpretation of the verbs. However, from what I read of those refuting this theory, the weak link in these arguments and interpretation of Bathsheba’s story is that verbs used are NOT the same verbs used in the rape of Dinah in Genesis. What I can say is that from the preponderance of literature, it appears this does not appear to be a widely held belief.

For me…I don’t necessarily have a Scriptural basis for this because there simply isn’t much about how Bathsheba felt about the situation. But, as an Army spouse, left alone for days, weeks and months by my Soldier…I can imagine how things might have unfolded and how she might have felt. As Army spouses here, I feel like we should take a moment here to pause and make not of the cautionary tale that can be gleaned from Bathsheba. Husband is deployed; we’re home alone for days, weeks, months...waiting. Someone offers a kind word, a small gesture or a bit of flattery. Ladies, I spent my husband’s first deployment alone and pregnant. I worked full-time and slept the rest. It was during the surge so my husband wasn’t able to call me more than once every four to six weeks for about five minutes. My boss at work was my age, we shared hobbies – scuba diving, motorcycles, etc. She was expecting their first child and I was expecting my first child….we talked quite a bit about pregnancies, children, and plans for the future for our respective families. It was purely platonic but I came to a hard realization one day when I caught myself thinking “Oh, I’ve got to tell him about…” whatever pregnancy related thing I had discovered. I looked forward to sharing a story about my pregnancy with a friend, who was a man, my boss and had a wife of his own….not my husband. Do you see where this could have been dangerous? I was lonely and had lost focus…I missed the sharing and companionship from my husband and it could have lead down a dangerous path. When I realized this, I created an online pregnancy journal to record my baby stories for whenever my husband had time to read them and dove into social activities with my girlfriends outside of the office. I never made that mistake again. I have a heart for Bathsheba. Maybe she meant to be a loyal wife. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe she made a mistake. I don’t know and I can’t condone it but I can see where the path of loneliness and distance from her spouse could lead.

I must say that I struggled with this for a couple of weeks. Did she or Didn’t she? Was she an aggressor or a victim? Guilty or innocent? I felt like these labels were necessary to my understanding and to discovering whatever it was that I was supposed to learn from her situation. I was miffed that I didn’t get MORE of her story from the Bible and I wanted to know why. You see…the Bible is God’s word to us. We operate on a Need to Know basis. God tells us everything we NEED to know. And he tells us it WHEN we need to know it. So, if the Bible doesn’t have the gory details about Bathsheba’s story, it’s because we don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter what she did or what she didn’t do.

Either she was a temptress, a seductress that strayed from her marriage bed or she was victimized by rape. Neither one was a “good” thing or easier to bear. If she was reluctant but not unwilling, well…it’s still the same end result, isn’t it? It was a bad situation or it was a bad situation.

This, my sweet sisters, is the beautiful part of Bathsheba’s story. Regardless of how she got there, she was in the middle of a train-wreck. She’d had relations with a man not her husband. She’d become pregnant, widowed, remarried and a grieving mother…all in the span of no more than nine months. (She needed at least 30 days to figure out she was pregnant and the baby was likely not more than a week or so old when he died.)

How would you feel in this situation? Despair? Heartache? Regret? Anger? Resentment? Grief? Like you had turned away from God? Like God had abandoned you?

Bathsheba, though wife to the King, was ashamed, humiliated, rejected, dishonored. And that was just what she felt publicly. Can you imagine what she felt in her heart, where she knew the TRUTH of the sin? She had been widowed, claimed by the King and then lost her infant son. In this time, to lose a male child was not just a death to grieve, it was a sign that you were somehow “less than” in God’s eyes. She was not favored…among the King’s wives and concubine’s her status would have been pretty low. I can’t say whether or not David shared Nathan’s condemnation with her. But, I am confident that she knew and felt, to her core, that she was in a union that had been condemned by God…a union born of sin and lust. Surely, nothing good could come out of that.

And yet…we know otherwise because we know the ending. She is chronicled for all time among those one who carried the royal line to Christ, the Redeemer of Sin, the one who sheds his blood to cover our sin and redeem our souls.

She gave birth to Solomon. In 2 Samuel 12:25 it says “The Lord loved him,” This child, born of a sinful union that had brought down God’s judgment had brought forth a child so precious that he was called Jedidiah, which means Beloved of God and child that becomes a great King, renowned for his wisdom.

2Samuel is very skimpy on the details of the time after the death of her son and the birth of Solomon. It says “David comforted Bathsheba and lay with her.” It doesn’t even say how long it might have been, though in my reading one author speculated that it was probably around five years. Bathsheba, in a union born of sin and condemnation has been redeemed with the birth of Solomon and a blessing from God. Later on, in Kings, she is portrayed as faithful to David and the kingdom and an influential force in the Kingdom. She uses her influence to prevent a coup as David lay in his deathbed. Does this sound like the same woman we described earlier? The woman that could be a temptress? A victim? Or a lonely misguided spouse?

I can’t tell you precisely what happened to Bathsheba in those five years between the events described in Chapter 11 and 12. I can’t describe the journey that Bathsheba took from adultery, shame and grief to faithful wife and mother of a beloved child. I don’t have all the answers to this because it simply isn’t there. I can only believe that God decided we don’t need the play by play gory details of Bathsheba’s journey through grief, regret and sin to redemption since we can see David’s condemnation and judgment. It’s enough to know that it’s here…she is redeemed: Solomon is born and the royal line continues to Christ.

For me, Bathsheba’s story is one of HOPE and REDEMPTION. It is nothing less than miraculous. Merriam-Webster defines Redeem as:
to free from what distresses or harms:
to free from captivity by payment of ransom
to extricate from or help to overcome something detrimental
to release from blame or debt
to free from the consequences of sin
to change for the better
repair, restore
to free from a lien by payment of an amount secured
to remove the obligation of by payment
to make good :
to atone for
to offset the bad effect of
to make worthwhile

With the birth of Solomon, God redeemed Bathsheba from the wreckage that her life had become. God conquered her circumstances, her sin, her trials and her mistake, whatever they may have been to accomplish his purpose: sending Christ to us. He turns her train-wreck into His greatest Gift to us all…Jesus Christ. How beautiful is that?

Bathsheba’s story gives us a clue buried in Matthew’s genealogy that Christ REDEEMS. We don’t even need to read the rest of the Gospel to know that this child born of this line is sent to REDEEM us.

I’d like to close with a moment of reflection. We all are Bathsheba. We all have a “big ugly” in our lives, something we carry with us and that weighs us down…at one time or another. I can absolutely assure you that I fail, every day…even every hour…in big and small ways to live my life the way God proscribes. My entire life, I have struggled with anger. Oh ladies, I have an ugly green monster that lives inside and some days I fear it will destroy me. I spend hours agonizing over the hurt my sin causes those around me, just as the sin of David and Bathsheba hurt those around them, including Uriah, the comrades that fell with him and their newborn son. I can’t tell you that I have conquered it…yet. But, we know that it took Bathsheba at least five years. I have HOPE that my story is not finished. Each day brings a new beginning and a new chance to write the next part of my story. This is not a question you must answer out loud but take a moment to quietly reflect before we pray. WHAT is your “big ugly?” Have you put it in God’s hands to redeem, to transform for his purposes? Do you have circumstances that you need God’s redemption? Do you have sin burdening you? I have scars on my heart and on my soul that I fear will never fade. I believe my harsh words and anger has left scars on the hearts of those I love. I hang onto the promise of Christ’s redemption show here in Bathsheba’s story as my HOPE for the future. Christ has redeemed me. Over and over and over. This is my hope that God can conquer the big ugly of my sin…He can change the damage my sin has caused to achieve his purposes. God can conquer this…Christ has redeemed us…even the worst we have to offer

Make time for SOMETHING: Body Image Pt 2

As I wrote the other day, I’ve become very convicted that my lifestyle is not as healthy as it should be.  I’m not calling this a New Year’s Resolution because I hate them…I never keep it up and then it implies I must wait until January to try again. Failure on whatever I undertake is inevitable.  No, that’s not being a Debbie Downer, it’s just realistic. If I set a goal of eating no sugar or making it to the gym three times a week, I’m going to slip and eat a cookie.  Maybe twelve.  I’m going to miss a day at the gym, probably because I’m sick or have a sick kid, or maybe all at once.  And, honestly, I’ve tried to figure out how to revamp my weekly routine to fit in gym time three times a week and I am truly at a loss. I applaud those of you that manage this because I know that if I tried, it would be unsustainable. I’d go all-in for the first week or two and then fall off hard when I hit a bump. To take a page from the annoyingly-perky FlyLady, my perfectionism is crippling me.

So, I’m NOT setting a goal to run a 5K.  I’m NOT pledging to make it to the gym once, twice or three times a week.  I’m NOT embarking on a 30 day workout or a 30 day diet overhaul.  I’m NOT doing it because I know I will get discouraged waaaaaaay before that. 

My goal is to do SOMETHING.  Because SOMETHING is better than nothing. Maybe I will be super motivated and actually set foot in the fitness center on post.   Maybe I will make time for a DVD workout with the littles….they do get a big kick out of it.  Maybe I will throw some kettlebells and practice Olympic lifts with soldier. But, maybe I will do [baby]weighted squats holding a grouchy DeeDee while I make dinner.  Maybe I will sneak in a few stretches as I sit on the floor playing babydolls or trains.  I might even work in a few pushups while I pick up Legos each night.  Just, please, don’t peek on us through the windows because that probably looks like a whole lotta strange. 

I have some fitness fanatic friends [and a husband] that would argue this is not enough.  And, I agree, it’s not and I’m not going to look like Jillian Michaels or her fabulously toned assistants.  But, for me…it’s enough. I simply want to look back at the week and be happy because because I did SOMETHING, which is an improvement over NOTHING.   

Mother of Girls: Body Image Blog Part 1

I’ve been a mother to a girl for three years and a mother to two girls for one year.  Having daughters has had me mulling over the issue of healthy body image, pretty much since we were told GIRL during the ultrasound. Before each child was born, I’ve spent time thinking about what they would be like and what I wanted to teach them.   With my first, I focused on general life skills. I wanted to teach them about love, kindness, compassion, critical thinking and integrity.  With my second, my daughter, I wanted her to have all of that but I realized I wanted her to be self-assured both in her personality and mental fortitude but also secure in the strength of her physical self. For each of my girls, I can’t say that I didn’t hope she would be pretty or that I hoped she wouldn’t struggle with weight.  I did…and I feel like it’s natural to wish unpleasantness or hurt feelings far away from our sweet children. I just didn’t want these things to be barriers to their happiness.

I struggled with determining how to teach this to my girls.  Especially after each of my sweet girls was born and I stood in from of my mirror each morning, poking my flabby belly and stretched out boobs.  It was hardest after BunnyGirl was born.  I had more stretch marks and had gained more weight.  It took longer for me to lose the weight from her and it seemed like my hips had permanently shifted.  She nursed longer and more ravenously than her older brother. I had trouble keeping up with the calorie demands and lost weight rapidly the last couple of months.  When she was weaned, I was left with two withered, deflated balloons on my chest in lieu of boobs, I saw bony and my clothes hung off of me.

I wish I could say that I triumphed, learned to love myself, developed healthy exercise routines and became a brand new me, but that’s not true. I rolled over and played dead.  I ignored the problem.  Eventually, the weight disappeared, the skin’s elasticity (mostly) returned.  WOW, right? I lost all that baby weight and didn’t do a thing?  I must be soooo lucky.  Yup.  Great.  Only problem was: I didn’t like myself any better than before.  Before, I was too fat and squishy from having a baby. Now, I was too skinny, too bony, and still had saggy skin on my belly.  Oh the irony…to first be troubled because I was too fat and then to be too skinny.

One morning, reality hit me right in the face when my sweet 2 year old ran up, grabbed my belly and said “Squishy mommy!” as I was getting dressed.  She then lifted her shirt and poke her perfectly round baby belly the same way I did and used the “F” word.  (The three letter one: Fat.)

How could I teach my girls to love themselves, imperfections and all, when I couldn’t extend the same love to myself?  Ouch. 

Over and over since becoming a mother, I’ve been faced with the reality that there are no shortcuts in parenting.  I can’t teach my two year old to control his temper if I can’t control mine.  I can’t teach them to love vegetables, if I never eat them myself. I can’t teach them patience, if I have none for them.  I can’t teach them to love and accept their healthy bodies when I don’t love mine. 

I tried to focus on the good.  My body, stretch marks and sagginess (especially where I had that unfortunate belly ring as a college student), grew three beautiful children. Big ones, at that.  My body was able to give birth to them easily. My sad, saggy boobs had created milk for over 41 months and had nourished and provided comfort to three babies.  My hands held tiny hands, smoothed back feathery-fine baby hair and stroked soft baby cheeks.  My voice sang lullabies that were comforting to them. To my little boy and little girl, I am the most beautiful woman in the world, right now and just as I am.  Can’t that be enough?

It is and yet, it isn’t.  It wasn’t enough for me because I knew that deep down, I could do more. This is where I draw the line between beauty and health.  I can live with my imperfections; I can use makeup, clever undergarments and flattering clothes to feel beautiful.   I can bury negative comments for my daughters’ sake and teach them to feel beautiful.  But, it wasn’t beauty that was the important thing.  More than beauty, I want them to be healthy, in both mind and body.  That doesn’t come from pep-talks and encouragement.

I have realized that I am not healthy and am not modeling a healthy lifestyle for them.  I’m not caring for myself the way I would want them to care for themselves. I don’t value myself enough to place my health and well-being as a priority and that is NOT an example I want them to have.  I don’t mean taking “me”-time for a haircut or a massage, though that’s surely a nice morning out and a good mental break.  I mean the hard, ugly work it takes and the unpleasantness that comes with really, truly exercising.   Just as there are no shortcuts in parenting, there are no shortcuts to exercise.  No DVD, no contraption, no machine is going to replace actually doing something with your arms and legs.  It may be unpleasant and it may not be fun, but I need to change the way I treat my body…image and physical form…for my children’s sake.

Part Two: Practicing What I Preach and Making Time

Hate to Love and Love to Hate Her - FLYlady

It's January and that time of New Years Resolutions.  I never stick to them so I'm not bothering this year.  However, I am using the opportunity to revisit a few things that I used to enjoy but have fallen by the wayside.  A couple of years ago, I started following the FLYLady (makes it sound like a cult, haha)  and I loved it. However, sometime before DeeDee arrived, I got off track and never managed to get back into the groove after she was born. Then we moved, we were in transit for two months and waiting for household goods for two more months. Now, it's time for me to get back on track.

Truthfully, I don't even know who the FLYLady really is or how she became the FLYlady, but nevertheless she is.  FLY stands for Finally Loving Yourself.  I'm not sure how to describe her other than maybe a home-life coach and motivator.  She has a system for managing your home and home-life to keep your house neat, clean and keep you happy. Because, really, who is happy when your house is trashed and your to-do list is a mile long.  One of her key principles is letting go of perfectionism.  We expect so much from ourselves that we can't even begin to start and when we do "start" we take on so much that we can't possibly finish it.  I know I am guilty of putting off household chores until I have time do them "right!" or deciding to organize my closets only to get halfway through and stuff it all back in. She has lots of catch-phrases for her system, Here are a few of my favorites:

• You are not behind! I don't want you to try to catch up; I just want you to jump in where we are. O.K?    OK!  I am definitely the type of person that would say "I can't start a home organization routine if my home is a disorganized mess."   But, jumping in works.  I recommend avoiding everything on her website except the Baby Steps page since it can be overwhelming.  Add one thing in a day, or a week and eventually you will see big improvement.
• Housework done incorrectly is still blesses your family.  True!! I may not have time to properly clean the floors, but even a quick sweep is better than nothing and keeps the disasters from piling up.

• Deal with the Hot-Spot before it becomes a Fire!   The hot spots are those places in your house where things get dumped and clutter collects.  For me, its' my kitchen counter, my dining room table and my dresser.  I toss things there and never get around to going back for them.  Stuff really piles up.  FLYLady suggests doing 2 minute "fire drills" to put out those hot spots, twice a day.  Now, you're not goign to see a clean counter after the first evening. But, seriously, set the timer, go to work in one area and put things away...the RIGHT way...for two minutes. You'll be shocked at the improvement you get in a couple of days.  

 There are tons of other catch-phrases and tricks from the FLYLady but I can't list them all here.  Some of her baby-steps are a little "controversial."  (Like getting dressed to your shoes, laying out your clothes the night before, or writing out your routine.)  They sound so simplistic that they can't possibly work.  Except they do.  I started with FLYlady as an experiment and was loaded up with skepticism.  Blast the woman...she was right, every single time.  Shining my sink, every night, did make my kitchen look cleaner and make me happier.  I really was more motivated and less likely to curl up on the couch when I had shoes on. Laying out my clothes (and diaperbag!) did make my mornings much smoother.  I hated to admit that she was right with but I LOVED the results in my home.  I could see my kitchen counters! I could see the floor! The laundry wasn't a week-long back log.  My bathrooms were ALWAYS clean!  I no longer had to Sprint of Shame before company came to hid my mess. Even Soldier has noticed the improvement during my first week "back"  and all I was doing was shining my sink and putting out my hot spots!

If you are curious about it, the main website is www.flylady.net. However, I strongly suggest you start with the Baby Steps. It's a 30 day plan to get you FLYing...one teeny, tiny, step at a time.  It's very easy to make teeny changes to your routine over a long period of time and achieve BIG results!  http://www.flylady.net/d/getting-started/31-beginner-babysteps/

Heavy Heart

My grandfather passed away on Sunday after a six month battle with mesothelioma.  It's been heartbreaking to watch as my family struggles to do the right things, to determine what the "right things" are, and to realize how my grandparents have been struggling. 

My grandmother suffers from rheumatoid arthritis and has mobility challenges.  She's struggled with this for many years. She has also been experiencing a rapid decline in her memory.  This came on relatively quickly. In less than four years, she's gone from remembering EVERYTHING to a jumbled mess.  We used to joke that my grandmother kept a secret notebook where she had notes, because she could name off all of my friends, their husbands, how long they had been married, their kids names, when they were born, co-workers, etc.  She remembered every cold we had, every doctor's appointment, social appointment, lunch date or shopping trip we mentioned in passing.  Nowadays, I know she knows who I am, that I am married and have children.  Beyond, that I'm not totally sure.  She is aware that she is confused and forgetful and can be rather sneaky to cover it up.  If I had to classify it, I would say that she has increasing troubles forming long-term memories over the last four years.  But, it seems that recently ever her older memories are getting jumbled.  I can't put a medical diagnosis or a name to her troubles, since she's repeatedly refused doctor's appointments or evaluation.  I waver on whether or not it matters.  The odds are better that's not something that has an easy fix or a magic pill.  She's been leaving the house less and less over the last two years.  We think mobility is an issue. The home is a split level, so she's effectively held hostage by stairs out of the front door and down to the garage.  But, we also think it's partly because she just doesn't feel like it.

My grandfather was the more mobile of the two.  Up until this summer, he was pretty active...putzing around my uncle's ranch (We joked he was "playing farmer" and terrorizing the animals), checking out the latest offerings at the TSC, going to his coffee dates (at the local McDonald's with old buddies from his working days where they gossiped about current happenings at work and how things "used to be"), golfing occasionally and doing most of the errands and food shopping. We think they subsisted on primarily take-out and are probably keeping Papa John's in business during the tough economic times.  It's not ideal and I really objected to it at first, but as my mother said, "They are 80 years old; if eating take out makes them happy, what's the problem?"  I objected because it was unhealthy, but I guess at 80 years old, it's probably not going to do that much harm.  My grandfather had diabetes...though he used to "leave it at home" when he was traveling or dining out.  I think most of us figured he would eat himself (happily, I might add) to the grave and die of complications from his diabetes or congestive heart failure.  He was a man SERIOUS about his food.  I can easily conjure a mental image of him lined up at my grandmother's counter, piling food onto a plate or two, and then sitting at the table in his usual seat hunched over the plate and methodically destroying it. 

Hospice has been assisting in caring for my Grandfather as he wished to remain at home.  My Grandmother helped him when he needed it and when she could.  They repeatedly declined additional help from Hospice and told all of us that they were fine.  My mother flew out right after Christmas and discovered things were not "fine."  She decided to stay with them as my grandfather started declining rapidly and the nurses felt he didn't have much time left.

 My mother has shouldered most of the caregiver burden, not just for my ailing grandfather but also for my cantankerous grandmother.  I have had a very hard time accepting that my ability to help is limited to prayer and encouragement.  I am a DO-er. My Love Languages are Gifts and Acts of Service.  As you can imagine, I've had a very hard time accepting that I am in Germany and unable to assist.  I've agonized over the situation, studied SPACE A flights, looked into furnished condos near them, and rental cars trying to find some sensible way of offering assistance. In the end, it always came back to my kids.  I have three small kids and going to assist my mother and grandparents would be devastating on them, regardless of how I handled it.  Leaving them in Germany with Soldier for an indefinite amount of time would break my heart and theirs. Not only would they miss Mommy but their tiny lives would be upside down since they'd be plunked into daycare while he was at work.  Bringing them with me would have involved pulling them from school, finding some kind of daycare or part time preschool there so I had some respite care and they had a break from my grandparents home, living in a hotel and having our family split for the next six months until Soldier PCS'd from Germany.  And, though I've struggled to put a price on caring for family, this would not be a cheap option -- flights for four, plus a rental car and temporary lodging for six months?  In the end, despite a week of agonizing over this and looking for ways to manipulate the situation, I could not inflict that much upheaval on my children.  It's really uncomfortable to feel like I am choosing between the two groups and I pray I have made the right choices in this process. 

My grandfather's memorial is today.  I've read the obituary and it seems like it's written about someone else, except that the facts are familiar.  I think the truth will become real for me when Soldier and I arrive in Leavenworth this summer and don't see him sitting in his chair or standing at the front window as we drive up.  He was always the first out of the house to welcome us when we visited, as kids or adults.  For now, I am relieved to know that he is not suffering anymore.  Frankly, the descriptions I've read of how mesothelioma attacks the body are pretty horrifying.  The situation is much easier to carry on my heart knowing that he is at peace and that my mother is not alone caring for him.

This moment for remembering him now seems like a small pause in the storm before the next thing comes: figuring out whether or not my grandmother can continue to live independently.  In my heart, I believe she probably can't.  I also believe that she may just prefer to sit in her chair and wait for her turn. I also believe that she will not leave her home without a fight. My grief is also for her, for the fact that she has come to a point where we are discussing "what to do about grandma" and at a loss for a solution that she might be open to - beyond leaving her to sit in her chair indefinitely as she seems to want.  There are plenty of options for her; the trouble is finding one that she might agree to.

We will arrive in Leavenworth in about six months.  My previous visions of that time have fallen away as we've started to grasp the severity of the situation.  Clearly, I was unrealistic to think that she simply needed motivation (ME + Adorable Great Grandbabies!) to leave the house and to make some positive changes.   At this point, I'm not certain what will await us or how I can best serve my family when I arrive.  For now, I am laughing over good memories of my grandfather, grateful to know he is no longer suffering, and holding on to hope that as the stress of my grandfather's illness and passing fade, my grandmother's symptoms will ease and she will regain some clarity and motivation.