The Forgotten

The gelatinous skin that was slowly hardening on her mashed potatoes was not helping to improve her appetite. Everybody kept telling her to eat, but what would be the point? The food wasn't enticing, she didn't have anybody to eat with, and well, she just wasn't hungry.

Gladys slumped in her wheelchair. Around her she heard the remnants of various conversations in the dining room. When she first arrived, she had tried to concentrate on the details. That was when she actually cared.

She could feel a pair of eyes staring at her. Slowly, she raised her head and scanned the room.  Sure enough, it was that nurse. She was watching her eat again. If she didn't make an honest go of it, the nurse would report to the nutritionist, and the nutritionist would want to "discuss options."  So, Gladys picked up her fork and stabbed a hole into the rapidly-solidifying mashed potato mountain.

Never in a million years would Gladys have guessed that this would be her fate. Back when Ma was in the nursing home, Gladys vowed that she would never end up in such a horrible place. Yet, here she was.

Daily, several times a day, she pleaded with God to just let her go home. There was no point in her existence, at least, that she could see. What, in the world, had she done to make God so angry that He just forgot about her and left her here?

A New Year's Resolution: Dakota Moments

Yesterday, Dakota, our seven month nephew, was hanging out at our house in the morning.  I had been blessed with three days of Kote time during this break because his mommy had to work in Willmar.

He showed up at about 6:30 am, which is early even by a baby's standards, so he was still in his jammies. After Mommy left, Kote and I snuggled into a chair to watch Today show.  Kote is a snuggler anyway, so he didn't seem to mind.

By mid-morning, everybody was up and moving around at the Aaker household, which meant Kote was getting extra lovin' from everybody. He has a huge smile and the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes ever, which he readily and happily shares. Typically, he is pretty go-with-the-flow; Kote is just as happy to lie on the floor with his toys as he is to be picked up and talked to.

Yesterday, though, Kote was a little out of sorts. Later, we discovered that he was cutting teeth, which explained his altered demeanor. In short, he would fuss off an on. I ran through the checklist:  Hungry? no. Wet? no. Tired? no. He had just had a good, long morning nap, so that's couldn't be it either.

So, after a while, we just sat in the chair by the bay window and rock-a-byed. He put his head on my shoulder, listened to my heart, and snuggled in while I just rocked back and forth, rubbing his back.  Is there honestly anything better than the sweet smell and weight of a baby in your arms? Fortunately, he was perfectly content in this endeavor. Sleeping wasn't on his mind as he looked out the window, and we sat in silence. He just let the rhythmic motion of my hands and the chair soothe him; he felt safe, secure, and most importantly, loved.  I'll bet we sat like that for a good half hour, which got me to thinking.

At some point, we are all like Kote. We get out of sorts, we can't quite put out finger on what's wrong, and we don't know how to fix it. So what do we do? Well, it kind of depends on who we are. Some medicate with alcohol, some anesthetize with TV, some withdraw from everyone and everything, some do the exact opposite and lash out at everyone, and some dive into extreme activity in order to avoid thinking. Yet, we would probably all be better off if took the Kote approach.

Why is it that we think that independence is the better choice? Whether we are five or 95, we seem to think we have to do everything ourselves. If we are hurting, we will fix it somehow ourselves. If we are unhappy, we will find happiness ourselves; we don't and shouldn't have help from others, or more importantly, God, to find it. We don't want to bother anyone. It's no one else's business. God helps those who help themselves. Maybe that's your belief system, but that's not what God's Word says.

At this time of year, especially, I find myself thinking about purpose - why am I here, really? How do I fit, what am I supposed to do, and why does God keep me here? I know that have been born for such a time as this. I know that my job is to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength. I know that I am to love others as myself. I know that I have been equipped with gifts and talents to help me accomplish those two purposes. Nowhere in any of that is the mention of being independent and doing things myself. Our job as humans is to bring glory to God everyday of our lives, and as much as we may not like to admit it, playing with others in God's sandbox of life is mandatory. We have never been meant to do walk this path of life alone.

In practical terms, this is a two-way path. It means that when life overwhelms us, it's ok to be a Kote. We can stop, allow someone else (God first, others second) to envelop us, and share in our discomfort. It is not a sign of weakness; we are stronger together. While it's not ok to allow the discomfort to become our lives, it is ok to have a time-out to take a breath and refocus.

Likewise, when life overwhelms others, it's necessary for us to pay attention, stop, and offer comfort to those around us who are suffering. Most of us are pretty good at the third part; it's the first two - paying attention and stopping - that requires discipline and practice. If we are living out our true life's purpose (paragraph 8) and realize that our time is really not our time, we will enjoy our journey so much more, and so will our traveling partners.

As I snuggled baby Kote in tighter, I made a New Year's resolution on the spot. I am resolving to be more conscientious about Dakota moments this year, especially when it comes to those whose voice is often unheard - kids and the elderly. Even though I am a problem-solver by nature, I am going to need to constantly remind myself that I don't have to worry about that part - the Great Engineer has it all under control; my job is to be attentive so as to provide the arms and more importantly, the time, when He asks me to.