I've had a hard time settling down to write this fall. There's just too much to do: too many decisions that don't take imagination and creativity...and leave me staring at this little flickering box on which I'm meant to pour out thoughts that signify something. Anything.
It isn't that I don't have thoughts, but you don't care about diapers for the elderly or whether the tile should stop at this point or another on the wall; how many hours a care-taker should work and what I need them to do for Grampie. You don't need to know how many different sized gloves we eventually decided we should buy to have on hand, just in case...or how we had a dry run through with Grampie and an Occupational Therapist, who thinks we've done a great job preparing our home.
And for the life of me, I can't think of anything profound to say about most of what I spend my days thinking about. I only know that I get up each day and pray that even in these most prosaic of decisions, God will be glorified.
And that His grace will be sufficient for this path we trod.
Today is Grampie Eve.
That is, tomorrow we bring him home. As far as we can tell, we have done our due diligence. The bathroom looks lovely (I'll post pictures one of these days). The kitchen isn't finished but it's usable as it is and we decided not to wait any longer.
Our kitchen is stocked with the kind of finger-foods we haven't had around since we had small children. Still, Beve's out running around gathering the last of the equipment.
And I sit here in the quiet. Pondering this journey that begins tomorrow. No matter we've planned, there's no way to be prepared. No completely, anyway. The two lovely young women who will share the care-giving job each morning were asking what kinds of things Grampie likes to do, which bewildered Beve and me. He doesn't like to do anything any more. He doesn't notice the television, doesn't understand what he reads even though he can still read words, he can't do puzzles and doesn't follow me when I try to get him to sing with him. He mostly just sits or wheels himself around in circles.
But he'll be here and my lovely giant of a husband is beside himself with gladness about it. He's waited for this day for two years. And that makes me glad too.
So tomorrow, when I get up, may I rise with the day and say again, "In this day, God, be glorified. And may your grace be sufficient!"