Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas.

I eagerly await and cherish family time and cooking and sharing meals together. I even enjoy shopping for presents—as long as I don’t have to step one foot inside a mall and can accomplish most (if not all) of my gift giving online. Either that or via baking something yummy. ; ) 

But the best thing about the holidays is spending time with family.

As I drove down to ATL yesterday morning to be with Dad for a few days, I spent a great deal of the trip praying. I left the house around 6:45AM to get the “low” front right tire on my truck fixed. (Yep, I drive a truck. The larger the vehicle, the better. What can I say—I love being up high!) The wonderful mechanic at Moody’s in Franklin quickly extracted the screw from the tire and patched it up, then checked my other tires for good measure and sent me on my way.

It was foggy and traffic was light. The early morning sun tried its best to reach through the shroud, but with little success. Yet, gradually, it finally managed to penetrate the thick blanket of white—and the scenes were radiant. And I thought more than once… If this side of eternity is this lovely, what must our real home, our eternal home, be like? 

God is the best gift giver. If you’ve walked with Him any length of time, you know that. But you also know that He doesn’t always give the gifts you think He will. Nor the gifts you would choose for yourself (and your loved ones) if He allowed you to author that list.

But His gifts are always best. Always.

As I type this, I’m sitting in Dad’s room, watching him sleep. He’s resting comfortably right now, and I’m so grateful, because he had a very rough night and morning. We’re not at all sure about the cause of his recent uptick in distress and anxiety. Perhaps it’s simply a progression of the dementia. 

He called me yesterday while I was on the way here and asked, “When are you coming, Tam? You said you were coming!” I could hear the desperation in his voice. I tried to explain that I was on the way. Right then. That I would be there in less than two hours. But he was too upset to comprehend what I was saying.

It’s an interesting thing…dementia. It steals even as it gives. 

We were given no time to say goodbye to Claudette, my dear mother-in-law, back in 1995 when an aneurysm took her Home almost instantly at the age of 58. She’d phoned Fred, my father-in-law, saying she had the worst headache ever. Fred said he would be there in 20 minutes. When he arrived, she was on the floor of her office in a library in a local Nashville middle school. She was never revived. Here, anyway.  ; ) 

Mom passed in August 2009 after a brief six month battle with gallbladder cancer. And as I told a group of readers last week… She taught me how to live, and she taught me how to die. And she taught me how to live with everything said. #missyoumom Fred, my dear father-in-law, followed Claudette and Mom home in January 2016. And again, we had time to say what needed to be said.

So Dad is our last parent. And it’s different with dementia.

Yes, it steals indiscriminately. Yes, it’s cruel to the mind and the body. But it also gives. It gives time to pull fading memories back from the edge and relive them—again and again. And again. : )

There are long hours of sitting with Dad while he’s resting and sleeping. But then, from out of the blue, he’ll rouse and start recalling a memory—that’s crystal clear! He’ll talk about his parents, Granny and Pa, when they were younger. He’ll talk about sharing his sandwich with the German soldier in a prisoner camp near Fayetteville, TN when Dad was a boy.

Talk about a treasure. And special gifts that I’ll cherish. 

Another special gift are the three gentlemen who Dad shares a table with for meals. Bill, LeRoy, and Frank. They always greet each other and shake hands when they arrive and when they leave. I snapped a pic of Bill (in the red sweater) shaking Dad’s hand last night at dinner. So sweet. 

Often, after breakfast, Bill (age 96, a decade older than Dad and a WWII veteran) will say to Dad, “Hey! Let’s meet at 9:30 for some handball!” Bill will laugh, and Dad will nod and smile. 

I’m so grateful for these moments, these memories, these opportunities to walk this road with my father, even as our Heavenly Father walks it with both of us.

I’m praying for all of you who have lost loved ones this year and who are facing your first Christmas without them. God is mighty to save, to comfort, to soothe the pain you may think will never subside. He’ll give you everything you need to walk the road He’s leading you down. And His greatest gift of all—Christ Jesus, our Lord—will walk that road with you every step of the way. 

And to see so many people coming together to celebrate Him, God’s greatest gift, at this time of year—even with the busyness and heartaches—truly does make it a most wonderful time!

Merry Christmas, friends, and blessings as 2018 draws to a close and a New Year begins!

Tamera