July 30, 2026 Today felt like a symphony. It began with joy, descended into fear, and, by God’s grace, found its way back to hope. Our mornings usually follow a familiar rhythm. Breakfast is served, and then comes Mom’s favorite part of the week—her visit with Kelly, her hospice nurse. To Mom, it’s “Spa Day.”…

July 27, 2026 Dementia has taught me is that creativity doesn’t disappear when memory fades. It simply finds a new way to speak. My father has always been an artist. Since retiring, he has painted well over 300 works of art, most of which have been given away as gifts – expressions of generosity as…

July 24, 2026 There is something sacred about music. Long before science began studying how melodies awaken memories in people living with dementia, Scripture showed us that God uses music to bring peace to troubled hearts. Today Mom stopped at the little flower cart where I had placed a statue of Beethoven. She leaned in…

July 23, 2026 Today was Dad’s 84th birthday. Although we celebrated his birthday and Mom and Dad’s 60th wedding anniversary a few days early, it was a gift to watch them both wake up and reach this remarkable milestone together by God’s grace. I arrived early and was welcomed by the aroma of fresh banana…

July 21, 2026 “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” — Psalm 91:1 There is something sacred about old photographs. Time stands still within their faded edges, preserving moments that would have otherwise slipped quietly into memory. As I recently sorted through pictures of my…

July 20, 2026 Looking back over the week, I find myself a bit lost in translation. This Thursday, July 23rd, Mom and Dad will celebrate 60 years of marriage. Sixty years. A Diamond Anniversary. It hardly seems possible that so much life can fit into one marriage. We celebrated on Sunday afternoon, gathering together for…

July 10, 2026 Dad asked Mom if she would say the prayer before breakfast. She smiled and agreed. As they bowed their heads and closed their eyes, they instinctively reached for each other’s hands. Before she spoke a single word, her hand found his. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see her anymore. But he…

July 2, 2026 Mom introduced me to her hospice nurse, Kelly, as the woman who comes to help take care of “her” dad. Dad was standing between us. Kelly smiled, and together they gently laughed it off. Dad simply said, “It’s all relative in the moment. She sees me as a father figure one way…

July 3, 2026 Mom always looked forward to any holiday because it meant gathering around a fire to make s’mores. Truthfully, she was happiest eating the marshmallows while generously sharing the chocolate with her grandchildren. Her taste buds have changed over the years, but her love for sugar certainly hasn’t. Dad came home with donuts,…

July 2, 2026 The summer heat over the past ten days has felt like purgatory. I believe most of my readers can echo that comparison! Mom’s screened-in porch has transformed into an oven that seems to bake at a steady 400 degrees. Every day I have to talk to the flowers, encouraging them to hang…