by Kathy Brasby | Mar 29, 2013 | Personal
I remember walking somberly into my church as a child on Good Friday, surprised at the dimness of the sanctuary and the absence of candles on the altar. A black cloth hung over the cross and no music played.
It was a powerful reminder of Jesus’ death and the hopeless of a world without God.
I had a time several years ago when I believed God had abandoned me and so I allowed a wall to form around my heart. But eventually I found I missed him. I didn’t want a world without God.
So today I reflect – again – on the thorns of my own pride and find my heart longing for the abundance of God’s fruit.
Fortunately he’s promised never to leave me or forsake me. I don’t have to wait until Easter to celebration.
My joy happens moment by moment.
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by Kathy Brasby | Mar 8, 2013 | Personal
The photo came via a text on my phone along with a message:. “Tell Mom the daffodils have finally pushed through.”
Our mother loves to garden. She ordered the bulbs for her yard last summer, before her stroke felled her. The bulb package showed up the week after Mom’s stroke.
My sister and her family managed to get 75 bulbs in the ground before the temperatures plummeted.
You plant bulbs with hope. The bulbs look too dead to endure a harsh winter. But the vision of the spring’s new life and colors spurred the family on.
Here in Colorado, we’ve been hammered by the lack of snow this winter. The ground is so dry that many farmers are considering parking their planters this year. The cost of buying seed and fuel may be greater than the potential harvest.
Our family has been hammered, too, this winter. Not by lack of snow but by loss and disappointment. As I’ve mentioned before, my father died in September and my mother suffered a major stroke in October. Our winter has been consumed with therapy and fear.
For a time, we wondered if we’d lose both parents back to back. Then we wondered if Mom would regain anything stolen by the stroke.
Mom has learned to sit up again, lift herself with one arm and a grab bar, and swallow again. The therapists have her walking – stiffly, awkwardly, but one foot in front of the other.
“She’s doing great,” they tell us.
My sister’s photo of the emerging daffodils made Mom happy. “We’ll have to go see those one of these days,” she said.
When those bulbs went in the ground, we all wondered about Mom. Would we be able to show her the new plants? Would the bulbs even grow in this drought? Would she survive the winter?
Yes, yes, and yes.
And I think those daffodils mirror our hearts as well. It’s been a long dry winter but spring’s coming.
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by Kathy Brasby | Feb 1, 2013 | Personal
If it weren’t for apple pie, I’m pretty sure I would have been a high school dropout and begun a checkered career involving recycled bicycle parts and horseshoes.
But that’s a story we won’t have to write because my mother was an ace pie baker. None of this thawing a pie and sneaking it into the church potluck. My mother wouldn’t even use canned pie filling.
She would buy 30 pound cans of frozen cherries at the end of summer and re-package them into pie-sized bags, sprinkling the cherries with corn starch and sealing each for the winter pie season. That was as close as she got to prepared pie fillings.
Her children were devoted but naive fans of her pies. If we ever got a bowl of the cherries during re-package day, we’d sprinkle our cherries with corn starch just like Mom’s pie filling. Even though the corn starch squeaked against our teeth as we ate the fruit, we couldn’t imagine cherries any way but Mom’s.
Our Thanksgiving feasts were not much about the turkey and a whole lot about the arrangement of pies, from pumpkin to apple to mincemeat. We saved room for an afternoon of dessert.
Mom baked a pair of pies the day before her stroke. Now her left arm hangs limply at her side and we don’t know if she’ll ever make another pie.
I am going to learn to make pies. I have avoided that arena because Mom’s pies are legend in our family. They were beauties with a golden crust sparkling with the sugar sprinkles. Mom’s pies were the reason to invite family and sometimes a lucky neighbor over for dinner.
It seems right to learn. Not to replace Mom’s heritage, for I can’t begin to do that, but somehow to honor it.
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by Kathy Brasby | Jan 28, 2013 | Personal
I know the last three months of my life have only been unique for me. I’m not the first to lose my father followed shortly by my mother’s stroke.
We’re still walking that ragged path of stroke recovery with my mother. We’ve seen astonishing progress when we look back three months. Looking back a week, not as much.
Perspective matters.
My sister and I, as our mother’s primary support, have not collapsed into a puddle of tears or wafted into dramatic hysteria. It’s not our way but that doesn’t explain much.
Certain things matter to help stand firm in the face of overwhelming fear and stress, such as:
- Flexibility. My plans for my day can change in a moment and there’s no point in hand wringing. Change gears and go on.
- Priorities. Maybe I haven’t cooked as many meals for my family, but I’ve made it a point to eat dinner with them. We make times for laughter and conversation even though I’m with Mom at least three hours a day.
- Faith. Our family believes God has not left us or Mom. We don’t question whether God did this to her. Neither does my mother. She trusts him to care for her now and to take her home one day.
- Good health. Even my mother, felled by the stroke, is in pretty good physical health and so are my sister and I. It’s tougher to maintain a stringent schedule with nagging health issues.
- Optimism. Our family assumes Mom will get better, although we know there’s a chance she may never return to full activity. But we’re looking for the gifts God gave her, such as the ability to talk and use her right hand and leg.
- Friends and family. Not only do many neighbors and friends check up on Mom and prayer for her, but total strangers are weighing in to encourage and support her recovery.
We walk day by day. And we’re doing all right so far.
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by Kathy Brasby | Nov 12, 2012 | Personal
“Sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”
Violinist Itzhak Perlman upon finishing a concert after breaking a string.
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by Kathy Brasby | Nov 8, 2012 | Personal
As I have shared recently, my mother suffered a massive stroke in October and is working hard now to rehabilitate herself.
I’m one of her cheerleaders and have focused most of my time and attention on her recovery. But once in a while I surface long enough to recognize that this experience is changing me.
Here are a few ways:
- Our journey through life does not get easier as we age. But, thank God, we have more tools to deal with the difficulties. My mother perseveres in her therapy sessions. Did she have this grit at 21? Certainly the embryo was there but the woman of courage has emerged. Our bodies fade but our integrity and willpower grow. Or they should.
- In crisis, I need to prioritize. What’s important for my family? What’s important to the plan God has shown me? Burn away the fluff and get to the steel.
- Many things that once demanded my time now has little strength over me. I’m learning to recognize value and appreciate intimacy over urgency.
- Teamwork tempers independence. Can I move forward alone? No, and the joy of allowing others to walk beside me invigorates my day. I am not alone in this journey. Not only does God go with me, he sends a team to lift my feet.
I am bruised watching my mother battle this stroke but I am inspired by her power. She presses on when the temptation to quit whispers to her. I am learning to respect her endurance and consider how it is being cultivated me.
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