Broken Beauty

by Sarah B. Smith

  I was like the mighty oak being tested by the storms. Although I prayed fervently for Dad and for deliverance, I had never fully surrendered my mom and dad to God and asked Him to take them for me. I had prayed for patience, but had I fully submitted to His purpose?

  Things hadn’t been going the way I wanted them to go. I wanted help, and I wanted it immediately. I wanted God to free my father so he would live a longer, healthier life. He needed more breaks and time for himself. I wanted Him to heal my mother and make her well again. God was asking me to accept this situation, and I was not willing to accept it. I was only willing to ask Him to change it and provide the help I thought was necessary to bring peace.

  That morning in the teepee, I cried for what seemed like hours, going through an entire tissue box. I opened my hands and fell to my knees, asking God to free me from my attempts to fix things, and I apologized for not seeing our family’s situation through His perspective. I wanted Him to teach me, but how could He teach me if I was only waiting for the answer I desired?

  I released my parents to God. As difficult as it was, I released my dad and any decisions that needed to be made about Mom to God. I couldn’t make decisions for my dad, and I knew God loved Dad even more than I did. I pleaded with God to give me balance in my life. I began to understand at a much deeper level that He truly does work everything for good, no matter how chaotic or out of order life may seem. I thanked Him for carrying the burdens that lay ahead so that I wouldn’t have to. They were no longer mine to carry, but His, and I felt a welcome sense of relief.

  Two days later, Thad and I joined our friend Amanda and a few others on a long hike up a mountain, or so we thought. It turned into a run because Amanda ran the whole way. We could see her every second or third turn, as her white visor peeked through the tree branches.

  I wasn’t sure I could pick up the pace to a full jog, and there were so many times I nearly gave up. But thank goodness I didn’t. I can’t explain why I felt the need to finish this run without stopping. Perhaps I had been through so much pain mentally and emotionally over the past year that I wanted to feel like I could accomplish something challenging, that I had some control over something in my life, even though I knew God was in control at all times. I had no idea what it would feel or look like at the very top, but I knew I wanted to get there as fast as I could, no matter how painful it was or how winded I might feel.

  The “hike” was amazing—I’d never seen views like the ones we saw that day. The trail went up peaks and through white-barked trees, then careened down into valleys and past streams, skirting fields full of wildflowers. There were flowers everywhere, in every vibrant color of the rainbow: crimson, rose, peach, rust, gold, sapphire blue, cobalt, daffodil yellow, and, my favorite color, purple. We went from one field of amazing flowers to the next, the terrain always changing. The scenery changed so much that we never knew, from one moment to the next, what we would see in the open fields.

  It was hard. There were moments while jogging uphill that I thought, I’m not strong enough for this. I don’t have what it takes. Every time my feet hit the trail, the fears and doubts rose inside of me. But every time I thought I wouldn’t make it, I’d take a deep breath and pray, Help me, God. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

  Thad and I made it to the top. My legs shook, my feet swelled, and my arms ached. I had doubted myself from the beginning, but now I felt like a champion for running almost the entire hike, not letting the voices of fear and doubt win. As I stood breathing heavily on the mountain, the air never smelled sweeter. I looked out at all of God’s wondrous creation and felt a warm, blissful gratitude pour through me. He had given me so much.

  That same afternoon, I received a call from Dad. “Hey, Sarah. Remind me when you come back to Dallas?”

  “On Monday. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be fine through Monday. When you get back, we need to sit down and talk. I’m ready to look at some places for your mom. I need help. I can’t do this anymore.”

  My face felt warm, and I started to feel a little nauseated. “Uh, okay. Wow. Want me to call Ginny and see if she can stay with Mom while we visit?”

  “That would be great. I’m sorry to have called you, but I just needed to tell you.” He was honest and to the point.

  Shortly after we hung up, my mother-in-law, Joan, just back from the farmers market, walked into the kitchen. The kids were sitting on bar stools at the kitchen island, snacking on homemade kettle corn.

  “Kids, why don’t y’all take your popcorn outside and play some soccer or swim while I help Mia unload some groceries?”

  Mia is what the kids called Joan. When they were little, she would say, “Come to Mia!” and the name stuck.

  Joan was a soft-spoken woman of faith who always thought before she spoke. Her mother was also diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, but not EOAD like my mom. Joan knew the disease’s toll on a loved one or spouse. I felt the need to share Dad’s call with her about looking for placement homes. I was so discouraged. I needed the confirmation that this step was the right one and reassurance that we had exhausted every other option in Mom’s care.

  “Joan, my dad called. I think he’s crashed and hit his wall. He told me he wants to sit down and talk about visiting memory-care facilities.” My eyes watered and my neck ached. The look on Joan’s face was so empathetic and loving that I could tell she agreed with his decision.

  “Sarah, your dad loves her so much. He would never make a decision that wasn’t best for your mom. It is such a hard disease.” She wrapped her arm around me and gave me a hug. I did everything I could not to sob on her shoulder, but I couldn’t help myself. My tears began to soak through her white cotton shirt.

  Stepping away, I grabbed a soft paper towel to dry my eyes.

  “It really does wear down the caretaker,” she said. “He can’t do this alone anymore. Honestly, I think this is what he needs. I know it’s hard, and I know there doesn’t seem to be a perfect answer, but I do know that you and he and so many others have prayed for God’s guidance. Perhaps this is God calling him to release your mom and accept that there are professionals out there who truly do know what they are doing. They are experts with this disease.”

  I sat down on a bar stool, leaning my elbows on the island. “I know you’re right. It’s just so hard. He wants to take care of her through sickness and health. You know my mom. How in the world would we place her? She’s tough, she’s strong, and she’s young. I can’t imagine her living in her own room in a memory-care facility with a bunch of eighty-yearolds! I don’t even know how we would get her there.”

  “You don’t need to worry about the how right now,” Joan said. “What’s important is that your dad gets help for your mother. And Sarah, he will be able to take better care of her when he is more rested. When we are exhausted, it is very difficult to take care of others. Think about how tired you get sometimes taking care of the kids day in and day out, and then imagine your dad, at seventy, taking care of your mom twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He needs rest and needs to know it is okay to receive help.”

  She looked out the kitchen window at the mountains, staring heavenward as she contemplated what she wanted to say. The words she said next penetrated my heart.

  “I choose to believe that placing her doesn’t mean he’s gone back on his word to love her ‘in sickness and in health.’ He will still take care of her, no matter where she lives. He still loves her! He just needs assistance and to know she is safe. He won’t be leaving her. He will actually be taking better care of her because he will get a mental break and be able to love her more fully for the rest of her years.”

  For the first time, I realized Daddy would still love Mom and be her one and only, no matter where she lived. Joan was right: Placing Mom in a home didn’t mean Dad would stop caring for her. It meant the opposite. He’d be acting out of complete love, making sure she got the care she needed.

  Joan
gave me another hug and told me how much she loved Dad, Mom, and me. She told me she hated what we were going through. It brought back memories of her own mother and her difficult move to Dallas from Houston and into a home. It was as if she were reliving moments in her life as we talked.

  “Please pray for Dad, Joan. I don’t feel like I can tell him what to do, but I can tell you that I have prayed so much for clarity and for him to make the best decisions for Mom. Honestly, I am not scared, because God is answering my prayers, but I am not sure I am prepared for the answer. ‘Be careful what you pray for’ is what’s on my mind right now!”

  We laughed at the truth of that statement. Then we stared out the window, quietly absorbing the beauty of the mountains, wondering what God had in store.

  FLYING HOME WITH THE KIDS, I realized I was dreading the days ahead. Frensley, Emery, and Elijah wore headphones. The girls had a dual connector plugged into Frensley’s iPad while they watched Miracles from Heaven, and Elijah was watching a faith-based football movie. My heart warmed, knowing they had chosen religious movies to watch. At the same time, my heart was heavy knowing that soon they would probably refer to Pop and Beauty’s house as just “Pop’s house.” Beauty and Pop went together in their eyes, so the thought of their separation and its effects on the children weakened me.

  I went to the airplane restroom. The moment I shut the door and turned the lock, I leaned over the metal sink and wept. I stood there, one hand on each side of the sink, while the plane bounced through the clouds. Tears fell into the sink as I reached for tissue to wipe my cheeks and runny nose.

  Then I had a talk with God.

  God, maybe You should just take her home. Maybe I should have been praying You would just bring her home to You. I don’t know if I can watch my parents live separately. They have been married almost fifty years. Lord, I don’t think I can watch this. They live together. That’s their house. They have never not lived together since their wedding day. How can they be in the same city yet sleep in different places? They are married, not divorced. She’s not dead. She’s alive. I don’t know what’s best, God. You let her die and bring her home to You and her family? Or move her away to a new place where she is safe and You can love her there? It’s too much. I can’t, God, I just can’t handle this heaviness.

  Was He even hearing me? As I felt a headache coming on, an announcement came over the loudspeaker.

  “This is your captain speaking. We are beginning our descent and ask that each passenger buckle up and prepare for landing.”

  I stared at myself in the mirror. For a moment, I wondered which hat I would wear once when we landed. Mom hat? Caretaker hat? Daughter hat? Self-pity hat? Leave-me-alone hat? Life-is-too-much hat? Walkwith-fear hat? Anxiety hat? Sadly, the trust hat did not pop into my head as an option.

  The second I unlocked the restroom door, I had a choice to make. Three precious children waited for me with no understanding of what was running through my mind, and I needed to be strong and courageous and act normal. I thought about Thad, who was driving our car home from Colorado. I wondered if he was out of the mountains yet.

  Then I laughed at my reflection in the mirror. Wow, Sarah. No makeup, swollen eyes, and greasy hair in a bun. Welcome back to Dallas! Mom hat it is.

  I CALLED BIG GINNY A few hours after we got home, but her phone went to voicemail. I left a message.

  “Ginny, I need to talk to you. We desperately need your help this week. Dad wants to go look at facilities for Mom. He is crashing, and he texted me that he can’t do it anymore. I think he’s hit rock bottom, and I need to help him as soon as possible. Is there any chance you can occupy Mom for several days? I want to line up two days so Dad and I can see as many places as possible. And please pray for Daddy. I can’t believe it’s come to this.”

  She texted me back a few hours later. “Absolutely. Just tell me where to be and when. This won’t be easy for you and your dad, but I do think it’s the best thing for everyone.”

  Best thing? How does she know that? Why does she say that? Joan thought so, too. Dad is ready. I’m not sure I like the “best thing,” but what other options are there?

  I stopped at my parents’ the next morning. Dad looked like he had aged two years since the day I’d left. I felt like I needed to tape a sign on him that read “Very Fragile: Do Not Touch.”

  “Hey, Mom!” I called brightly. “I’ve missed you. Let’s go get our Starbucks iced chai.”

  She was more reserved than usual. I wasn’t sure why until she turned to Dad and, afraid to leave him behind, said, “Are you okay here?”

  At that moment, I realized that she was clinging to Dad more than ever and that she’d become more reluctant to leave him, even to go somewhere with me.

  To me, he subtly gave away his true feelings of, “Please go. I need to sleep for hours.”

  But in his love for her, Dad, in undeniable patience and graciousness, said, “Don’t worry about me, Beck. I’m going to take a little nap and rest. You go have fun with your daughter. I know you have missed being with each other.”

  I hugged Daddy goodbye, and I whispered in his ear as Mom headed toward the front door, “Hang in there, Dad. Ginny is available, and we will get through this together. Help is on the way.”

  • • •

  MOM AND I WENT BACK to my house, grabbed the kids and their swimsuits, then headed to the club. I wanted the day to be full and long so that Dad could rest and spend time alone.

  One of Mom’s favorite things to do was dip her feet in a swimming pool. We picked an area that had four lounge chairs under a large umbrella as Frensley got towels.

  “Hello, Mrs. Smith! How are you today? Hello, Mrs. Bearden!” It was so nice to be back and welcomed by the club’s sweet staff. They knew my mom, and they also knew her need for chilled nonalcoholic wine or virgin margaritas.

  Edgar smiled at me and turned to Mom. “Mrs. Bearden, would you like something to drink?”

  She turned and looked at me. “What are you having?”

  “I’m going to get an ice-cold Arnold Palmer! It’s tea mixed with lemonade, and they put a mint leaf in it. Would you like to try that, Mom?”

  “Sure, I’ll have that.”

  I set two chairs in the shallow part of the middle pool where I could dangle my feet in cool water four or five inches deep. On a hot August day in Dallas, it was the perfect spot to be.

  Mom started kicking and splashing her feet in the water like a little child. “Look! Splash! It’s fun! Feels good.”

  Sitting in her big black sun hat, she had gotten her shorts sopping wet. I always traveled with an extra pair of underwear and shorts for her, never knowing when she might have an accident. But this day, it was no accident—it was fun in the sun.

  Frensley, Emery, and Elijah would swim up to us or jump in, making the largest splashes they could for Beauty. She would judge who had the best splash, and it was one of her best days, and ours, that summer.

  We had two Arnold Palmers, a glass of “wine” and a “margarita.” She kept repeating, “This is the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen!” Although her ability to recognize places was slipping away, her love of family was not.

  I sent Dad a text about three hours later.

  “Hey, hope you are okay. Thinking about you and want you to know how much I love you. Mom is having a blast at the club.”

  Dad loved to respond with emojis. I received a thumbs-up, a smiley face with hearts for eyes, and then, “Thanks, Sarah. I’m so tired. I’m sorry to drag you through this with me.”

  Drag me through this with him? He wasn’t dragging me through anything. This monster of a disease was dragging our entire family through it together, but Dad and I were taking the brunt of it because my brothers couldn’t be as available.

  “Dad, don’t ever say that again. You aren’t dragging me through anything. God has a plan. He will reveal it one day. All I know is that I will love on her as much as I can. We have each other, and God will give you the strength yo
u need to get through this. Remember, He won’t give us anything we can’t handle.”

  As I typed those words, I thought back to my reflection in the airplane mirror. I remembered the prayer and the questions I had asked of God, then realized I had forgotten at the time the very words I had just shared with Dad. He promises to give us only what we can handle. That day on the plane, I had cried out to Him, “I can’t. I just can’t.”

  I also thought back to the day Dad called me in Colorado. I realized it wasn’t a coincidence I’d gone on such a beautiful hike that morning. With God, nothing is ever a coincidence. As I ran through open fields of wildflowers, I had the distinct feeling that anything could happen. Sometimes the path was easy, sometimes it was hard; sometimes the fields were empty, and sometimes they bloomed with colors that took my breath away.

  Many things can appear to be challenges or tests—but you can find love in all of it. Love gets you to the top, and it gets you to the bottom. It gets you through the hills, the streams, and the valleys. Sometimes the terrain is calm, and sometimes it’s difficult. But if you cloak yourself in love, you can make it to the top.

  Still sitting in the pool, Mom and I heard Elijah yell, “Look at me! Look at me, Mom!” Elijah sprang off the diving board. “Did you see that, Beauty? Did you see my splash?”

  “I sure did! It was a big one!” Mom turned to me. “He’s so cute. I love him so much.”

  “I know you do, Beauty. And he loves you big. All our kids do. Thanks for spending the day with us at the pool. I hope you always remember you are so loved.”

  She grabbed my hand, then turned back to watch the diving board. She scanned the slide, the swimming lanes, and the baby pool. Looking at me again, she squeezed my hand and said, “This is the best. Thanks, Sarah. I love you, Daughter.”

  FOURTEEN

  WALLS WITHOUT WINDOWS

  August 2016