It is March, 2024, and I have summoned the courage sufficient to tiptoe back into my prior “life”.

Many of you know that my mom navigated the anguish of mixed dementia: a ravaging thief of the worst kind. In 2018, we noticed that she began to repeat herself. We went through a year or more in denial, embracing good days and rationalizing bad ones. Her decline continued into 2019 when her condition could no longer be denied.

In the first half of 2022, our 89-year-old dad confessed that she needed more care than he could provide. We checked her in to the memory unit of a wonderful nursing home in the county where
they live. (I am not yet able to revisit that set of days – not yet).

For sixteen months, we witnessed her decline. She lost her ability to process, converse, understand, walk, stand, and eat. What she did not lose was her compassion, authentic sweetness, and selfless thoughtfulness.

She met Jesus on my birthday, October 18, and I felt so honored. John and I stayed with her the three nights before she passed, not wanting her to be alone. Those last three days and nights, the staff of the nursing home shared story after story of how much she was loved. Nurses left home and came to see her “one more time”. They talked about the ‘Bible studies’ and the ‘yard sales’ she hosted and frequented.

When Thanksgiving came the following month, I thanked the Lord for the empty chair at the table. She was well and whole. She was reunited with the baby girl she lost to pneumonia, her mother whom she lost way too soon, her sisters and brother, to name a few.

I have dreamed of her twice. The first time was very vivid. I was at a Gaither Homecoming concert and saw her walk by. I ran to her and asked where she was going? She just smiled and said she couldn’t stay.

We are adjusting to a new normal, but our hearts are always turned toward where she is. We long for one more conversation, one more shared meal, one more opportunity to hear her laugh and see her smile.

One day we will gaze on our surroundings and we will know what she knew…. that living here is fine, but we really can’t stay.

It was the week before Christmas 2022. On a whim, I decided to visit a nearby city for some last minute shopping. For years, this mall has struggled, as highly visible national chains arrived, bringing their own retail footprints. In the structure that once defined this city, only one anchor store and a few locally owned shops remained.

At the foot of the curving staircase that joined two floors, a large fenced area held their Christmas display. It was just as I remembered: large and colorful with happy elves, winter snow scenes and an oversized chair for Santa.

Now, five days before Christmas, the chairs were empty. The lights were visible but not turned on. There were no long, eager lines. Santa was a no-show.

As I made my way around the display there was a lone boy at the fence. He was five, his grandmother said. She stood patiently waiting as he knelt on the floor, hands on the fence, staring through the rails at the colors, the toys. He only barely moved, so focused was he on the details of the display.

It was heartbreaking to see. I wondered what was going through his mind. Did he imagine that the lights were shining and the music blaring, or was he simply reconciling the fact that what he hoped for would not happen today?

It would have been understandable to express your disappointment and move on. I admired him for staying, waiting, wondering, hoping.

This year was my 66^th Christmas. As a child, I heard my grandfather preach about Jesus’ birth and His imminent return. Archaeologists have made supporting discoveries about Jesus’ birth in the last 66 years. These amazing facts reinforce what we believe. They do not make us believe; they simply add layers to the story.

All through childhood we heard our grandfather speak of Jesus’ return to earth. Often I would stare at the sky, expecting to see Him appear at any moment.

Like the five-year-old in the mall, you and I are waiting. We are eager. We anticipate joy that is unmatched, unspeakable.

We are not able to enter just yet. The time is not now, perhaps not today. But we stop and we stare. We watch and we study. We kneel and we listen, knowing that, one day, we will realize what our hearts could not even imagine.

One day. Maybe today.

In anticipation,

Janet

Hi Everyone,

We’ve moved! We simply decided that our online presence needed an overall update, and John began with a new look and location for the blog. (He knows this remains the most efficient (and fun!) way for us to communicate.) Two-way conversations are much more fun than monologues.  

There are many nuts and bolts involved in an online presence, so thank you in advance for your patience as we relocate and update what you will see and hear.

One more thing…. If you do not already follow the blog, you may simply click on the ‘Follow’ icon (lower right corner) and enter your email address for notifications of new posts. Note: as you start to scroll down the page, the icon goes away, simply scroll up and the “Follow” icon will reappear.

New blog address: https://janetpaschal.wordpress.com/

When I haven’t seen or spoken with Gloria Gaither in a while, she always asks the same question: “What are you reading?” That could (and often does) lead to a long discussion on topics ranging from prophecy to basketball. Just because it seems like the right thing to do, I will tell you that, right now, I am rereading Lee Strobel’s The Case for Faith. (The introduction alone is worth the price of the book.) That, along with Proverbs and Psalms, is driving home the idea of pursuing wisdom and understanding. Our family has needed both of them in large doses for a while now. They have become a lifeline as we navigate uncharted and unfamiliar waters. 

I tell my close friends that I am still awaiting the dispensation of wisdom, but the last three years are teaching me understanding. Nowadays, I often cringe thinking back on my quick opinions and instant remedies when I knew so little about what others could have been going through. I was often the priest or the Levite when someone in my life needed a Samaritan. Hopefully we can all learn from each other and grasp both wisdom and understanding as we press in to together to wherever He leads. I’m excited about the prospect!

So here we are… December 7, 2022…. 

Eighty-one years ago, at 7:55am, the US Naval Base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, suffered an unprovoked attack. Four heavy carriers launched 353 aircraft torpedoes and bombers in addition to submarines and destroyers. One hour and fifteen minutes later, 2,403 American families began a dark journey through grief and loss. 

Prior to the attack, Japanese Admiral Yamamoto famously stated, “I look forward to dictating peace to the US in the White House at Washington.”

It is difficult to imagine how many prayers rose to God eighty-one years ago. Prayers for safety, protection, healing, comfort, resolution, etc. And He heard them all. 

Bad things happen in a broken world. Power corrupts and greed distracts. We tend to forget Catherine Marshall’s great observation of the autonomous structure and creation of God: “(a) power that no one really understands keeps our heart beating, our lungs breathing, … our body temperature at 98.6 degrees…. a surgeon can cut tissues but he is helpless to bind the severed tissues back again. We grow old relentlessly and automatically. 

Even the planet we live on… we had nothing to do with it’s creation either…. All of this happens quite apart from man – little man who struts and fumes upon the earth.”

Humans seek bigger, better, higher, bolder, shinier… and God waits patiently for them to grasp their own frailty and to learn that the brief span of a lifetime can hardly be compared to God’s tomorrow. 

“Lord, on the anniversary of an event carried out totally devoid of wisdom and understanding, help us to move closer to both of them today.”