It's Spring. Live. Just breathe.

Introspection, and the all-too-human arrogance of thinking our "plans" have any real meaning or permanence as they float around like neurons winking out in the mind of God, blinds you (me, all of us) to the pure joy of living.

 I realized this, an epiphany repeated for the millioneth time it seems, as I looked up from my work station monitor and out the window at the Salt Lake Valley. 

There it is: Spring, quiet, bright and airy, and thunderous in its silent witness to things ever so larger than my own petty concerns.

Just breathe.

 Work to live, to eat, provide shelter, clothe yourself and loved ones. Don't live to work.

St. Paul put it this way:

"But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." 1st Timothy 6-10 (NIV)

Christ is risen -- then, and now

He is risen.

Faith tells me it was true more than 2,000 years ago. 

The joy that fills me at my deepest, undefinable being,

that place where intellect and spirit merge

 in a secret place of innocence and peace,

 convinces me it is true today.

Happy Easter.

Of Alzheimer's and "tough love"

Unpleasant duties ahead this week. Have I mentioned how much I hate Alzheimer's? It not only robs your loved ones of their memories of you . . . but taints and buries your fondest memories of them, with the pain and rejection of the confused, occasionally angry, bitter people they have become.

Tough love is supposed to be what you, as parents, give your children -- those times when you bear the pain of their anger and seeming loss of their love BECAUSE you love them that much. If you would die for them, you should be willing to bear that, too.

I have known that; I have had to practice that.

I never, ever thought that role would be reversed, where I, the child, would have to experience the same pain doing what is right, but painful, for my own parents.

This past week, anticipating -- dreading, really -- the next stage of care needed for my mother, I have deliberately tried to remember the way she was, not that long ago. The laughter, the twinkle in her eyes, the feisty courage of a 5-2 Scots-Irish heroine who taught me how to fight, ride a bike, throw a ball, the conditionless love and support, the hours at night spent helping me pass math, ace spelling tests . . . the times when I was sick, her cool hand on my brow, the soft prayers.

Now, that woman is . . . gone. What is left has slipped into the cloudiness, confusion, paranoia and anger of the disease. So, my heart goes out to all of my generation dealing with parents suffering from this horrible disease.

My mother is gone. What is left is a shell, and the love we give her is unreturned. Not out of spite, but out of inability to understand it. I know that.

But I cannot just let this go.

I know, the rest of what is left of my mother will some day, and if there is mercy, soon, join what has already passed on. But I will find a way to honor her -- and my father, also in his final days. There will be some way I can fight Alzheimer's, some way to comfort others suffering from, and with this disease.

I will find it.

Nick Vujicic's faith, courage and message of hope

(Photo above: Trent Nelson/Salt Lake Tribune)

Courage. Faith.

And, for the knee-jerk skeptics out there, 99 percent ofAustralian Nick Vujicic's presentation Thursday -- simulcast to 200 Utah schools as part of an anti-bullying campaign --was NOT evangelism.

He made a simple, brief opening statement of his faith as a source of personal inspiration. . . then, he offered hope and encouragement to bullied kids that anyone -- believer, non-believer -- could, and should, embrace.

And, by the way, this man who can fetch $10,000 for his secular motivational appearances, did this for free. 

No fees. Because, this fellow, who some would argue has gotten a horrible shake from Life, simply cares.
                
Here's his story in The Salt Lake Tribune. 

Alzheimer's and Mom: Of the living and the breathing dead

I made one of my two weekly calls to my folks today and realized, belatedly, that my last meaningful, even understandable conversation with my mother was sometime in the past.

Truth be told, it probably was a couple years ago.

My folks are in Assisted Living in Spokane, Washington. Mom has Alzheimer's disease, a form that has rapidly deteriorated her ability to reason, understand or even speak without referring to every noun as "that place" or "that thing." 

 

Half the time, she has to think hard to remember who I am, her only son. The other half of the time, she thinks I am her grandson, or her brother, John.

She has forgotten how to use the phone, and as her vocabulary has evaporated along with her ability to think, the conversations have disappeared.

Two years ago, Mom could talk your ear off. If I called home, I knew I needed to have emptied the bladder beforehand, because 45 minutes was a short conversation.

She was articulate, interested, sharp. This is the woman who got me through math in high school, for crying out loud.

Now, she doesn't know the difference between $100 bills and a quarter, she has forgotten how to use a washer, or the TV remote; she gets lost in the hallways of their facility, and floods their unit regularly when she tries to wash clothes in the sink . . . and leaves the water running.

All that is left for her are emotions, and a resolute stubbornness. That stubbornness got her through a childhood that saw her going to work at 15 to help support a Montana preacher's family of 14. . . and raise her own family during times of hardship and too little joy.

And now with Mom 85, my 62-year-old developmentally disabled big sister -- who has the mental faculties of a 4-5 year old and lives in a group home -- has more on the ball.

I hate Alzheimer's. It has robbed me of my mother, while leaving behind a poor, fading reflection of her.

In all the ways that matter, my mother -- the vibrant, optimistic, natively intelligent person she was -- has not-so-gradually passed away. All that is left in a breathing, emaciated shell of a confused woman, a shadow, a wraith that bears her name.

All that is left is to love her, on an increasingly primal level. Even her ability to return love is fading, as her world continues to implode, retreating back to . . . what? A psychic womb? A spiritual ovum?

Where has she gone? How do I find her?

No answers. Just faith that what is Katherine Powell Mims is being safeguarded in the arms of the Eternal, to live again.

Christmas: The best gift is generosity of spirit -- and a hug

Merry Christmas, everyone. 
Take time to disengage from the commercial nightmare this holiday (i.e. holy day) has become. 
Take time to hold your loved ones close, to be generous of spirit, to "see" your friends and family by taking memory snapshots of the smiles, and to say "I love you." 
Life is fragile and joy fleeting . . . but every moment spent with love is a deposit in Eternity.

Challenges, yes. Still, the best Thanksgiving, ever.

A tough year. And, the best Thanksgiving, ever.
Seems unlikely, looking at 2012 in cynical perspective. The near-miss with what would've been a massive, instantly deadly cardiac event. Open-heart surgery to replace the failed aortic valve, and a long (still ongoing) recovery.
Having to face the darkness and drawn-out grief of Alzheimer's, and the need to move my folks into assisted living.
The hard decision, made inevitable by Washington residency requirements for guardianship, to see my big (older)-little (mentally disabled by cerebral palsy) sister become a ward of the state.
Callie, my best furry friend, claimed by cancer long before her time.
But, perspective is the key. Always has been.
And when I look at the blessings, instead of the challenges, this has been a great year:
I'm alive, and getting stronger and healthier all the time, the Grim Reaper fended off indefinitely.
My folks, having adjusted to their move, now seem happy and are safe and provided for, even as their bodies and minds leave this existence and are resurrected in the broader, eternal realm of Love that comes next.
My sister is in a group home where the staff cares, and is happy with her life and sheltered workshop duties.
Callie -- I was able to say goodbye to my sweet-natured border collie, holding her head in my hands and speaking words of love as the light faded from her trusting eyes.
And then there's my daughter, Brenda, finding love, a new husband and a little daughter . . . giving Barb and me a wonderful son-in-law, and a sweet granddaughter to bless our family . . . already blessed by a wonderful daughter-in-law and grandson.
So, yes. This is the best Thanksgiving, ever.

A 'Come to Jesus' moment, and the Twelve Steps

You've heard of those "Come to Jesus" moments.
Well, Wednesday night, I had one as close to literal as they come, I suspect.
Our usual church Bible study session gave way to a panel of four folks from Alcoholics Anonymous who held forth on the Twelve Steps.
Each person took three of them, and shared their own stories.
They talked about loss, pain, self-hatred and how that played out in addiction, and victimization -- of themselves by others, and of others by them.
I watched their eyes as they struggled to share what were, even years later, painful, raw and ragged wounds of the soul.
And, I felt awful. Awful for how I have -- albeit mostly in silence and within my own thoughts -- too often dismissed such people as losers, parasites and subhuman, unworthy of sharing the same space, time and air as the rest of us.
Right there, as one woman spoke about her struggle with crystal meth and multiple suicide attempts, I asked my God for forgiveness -- and the gift to see others with some trace of His compassionate grace.
God is Love, I've come to believe, and God is Love beyond our understanding, and in dimensions of compassion we cannot begin to fathom.
That's why his Son told us not judge, to leave that to the only One who is qualified to weigh the human heart.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss

So, the election is over.
Thank God. And I mean that, in every conceivable sense of the word.
Think about it. A liberal, Democrat in the White House with a failed first term in so many respects -- and much of that failure due to a Republican House and a Senate where "blue dog" Democrats often defected to negate their party's narrow majority.
But also, much of that failure was due to the inexperience and lack of leadership from a man, however eloquent, whose previous national governmental service consisted of one, incomplete Senate term.
That he would win a second term, after four years of economic recession and high unemployment, indeed seems the essence of an "Audacity of Hope," as one of his books was titled.
Few gave Barack Obama a chance for re-election. If only the Republicans could come up with someone passably acceptable . . .
Instead, the GOP primaries proved to be a parade of clowns. Much of that nomination campaign consisted of a shifting anyone-but-Romney string of failed alliances. We had a cowboy clown from Texas who shot himself in his political foot, repeatedly, with his lack of understanding and fatal malaise. A fast food king who sounded good, but faded under scrutiny or anything deep in inquiry, a bigoted idiotessa who made Sarah Palin look like a Rhodes Scholar.
And, that Mormon guy who ran the 2002 Winter Games.
Try as he might -- and he certainly did, flip-flopping on social, cultural and economic issues in a naked, ultimately failed bid to win the Right -- Mitt Romney just never quite convinced Republicans, some of whom just months ago were lamenting the triggering of the Apocalypse should a Mormon win the White House.
I became a bored observer myself, once moderate Jon Huntsman -- also a Mormon, by the way -- failed to excite support with his thoughtful, common sense approach to the issues. His half-hearted endorsement of Mitt later on mirrored the lack of enthusiasm Romney would gather.
And so, here we are. And the heck of it is that probably little will change in the next four years.
If, considering the Dems held BOTH House and Senate, along with the White House for the first two years of Obama's first term and still did nothing beyond a watered-down health care program thanks to the self-serving antics of Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi . . . then how can we expect anything better with Washington doomed to partisan bickering for another two years at least?
Faith, my friends, should not be placed in the soaring oratory of our likeable, but ineffective President, nor any politician or party.
Faith is the realm of God. And we had better be praying for our nation, now more than ever.