Wednesday, May 14, 2008



On Monday Molly and I attempted to visit my Grandma who lives in a retirement village near us. Since the weatherman predicted a "cool" day (only 82 degrees) I dressed Molly in a warmer outfit that she hadn't had much of a chance to wear. It was a pretty floral onesie and a sage green jumper with a matching violet sweater from my cousin and family. As we approached the market where I planned to pick up some flowers for Grandma, I detected an unpleasant scent lingering in the car.
"Okay," I thought, "I'll change her diaper on the back seat, and then we can run into the store."

I wasn't anticipating a P.O.P.S. (Poop Of Perplexing Size). Molly hadn't blown out of a diaper in months. Sure enough, I saw messiness oozing out from her girly onesie. I used several wipes to attempt to clear away the excess so that I could unbuckle her from her seat. As I wiped, more appeared. It became apparent that I had insufficient equipment (I needed running water at the minimum.)to handle this mess. Taking a big risk, I stuffed some wipes down into the mess in an attempt to cover it. I then put a big toy on her lap. I hoped that the toy would distract her and the mess would be contained so we could drive home. About halfway home, I gasped when I looked over my shoulder and saw a poopy wipe in her hand. (Gratefully, she had a pacifier in her mouth so I'm fairly confident the wipe did not go into her mouth.) I grabbed it away before she got any on her hands or face. By a special measure of God's grace, we made it home without the mess spreading. After thirty minutes of scrubbing, dousing, and presoaking, we were all feeling quite a bit cleaner.

Needless to say, we did not make it to see Grandma. I then opened my Bible and searched for the verse that says, "The mind of man plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps." (Proverbs 16:9) God reminded me that He directs us where He wants us to go. Our plans our futile unless He wills it.

This morning, we did have a successful trip to visit Grandma. She has dementia and can rarely make even a sentence or two of meaningful dialogue. However, with Molly, she seems very alert and engaged. She was having a good day today. When we arrived, she was in another woman's room watching a movie. One of the aides wheeled her down to her room so that she could visit with us. As Molly and I sat on her bed and conversed with her in her wheelchair, she asked how old Molly was. I replied that she was eight months.

She replied, "She's getting so big." (I thought this exchange was very promising because not only did Grandma make appropriate conversation, she knew that Molly was a girl. Most apparently mentally adept strangers refer to her as a he.)

As Molly made some high pitched exclamations, Grandma responded, "Hi! Is that what you're trying to say?" She added, "You'll say it soon enough."

Unfortunately, I must have been having a very off-day in many respects because when Molly was fussing on Grandma's lap, she said, "She wants to go to her dad." I picked Molly up, and she quieted down. Grandma noted, "She's happier with her dad." I know it has been awhile since I've tended to my eyebrows, but I didn't realize that things were this out of hand.

We continued to visit and laugh at the baby's silly noises. I replied, "She's a good girl."

Grandma responded, "Yes, she's good baby girl."

We said good-bye and headed down the hall. We watched as Grandma wheeled her way to a gentleman in a wheelchair and began conversing with him. I smiled as I thought about her contentment. How blessed am I in the circumstances of my life and how often am I discontent. Grandma doesn't have much and doesn't care about material things and yet God has blessed her with a peaceful spirit. Thank you, Grandma, for continuing to teach me how to live and love.

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