Thank YOU!
Why?
I appreciate the time you take to read at least one sentence from Blueprints for a Hope-Filled Life every two weeks. Time is like breathing. We wouldn’t be able to flow with life without time. Of course there are the dimensions of time. Kyros. Kronos.
Finite.
Infinity.
I smile. I chuckle. In that way that I view we are dancers, always dancing the dance of grace between opposites. I wrote finite, for how we only have so much time. And then I wrote infinity, for that, too, is a dimension of time.
We, the dancers, in the now between not enough and never ending.
I had an email cross my path recently and the opening line was “bloom where you are planted.” Like these beautiful crocuses peaking up from a clover field, still browned from the winter snow that covered it for weeks.
What makes these crocus even more special is that they weren’t planted in this field. It is a mystery I don’t want to solve in how they got to where they now bloom. In that way that I believe we are always led to right where we are supposed to be, what matters is that they chose to bloom where they were planted (or dropped).
Shining their bright yellow colors.
May you shine your brightness, too!
Namaste’
-Christine
The Creases Now Speak
Bian
It was reaching a point that the care Mỹ needed was greater than what Bian could provide.
Someone needed to be with Mỹ twenty-four seven. There was the danger of her falling. In her lucid moments Mỹ was certain she could get out of bed and walk without assistance. In her non-lucid moments, which were growing increasingly frequent, Mỹ believed with great insistency that she didn’t need any assistance of any kind. Any touch or any gesture of help was vehemently shouted at, leaving memories with Bian that she knew her mom would not want to be left with her.
There were the times she would cry out in the night, and when Bian would reach her bedside, Mỹ would be sound asleep again. It was great Mỹ wasn’t kept awake by her outbursts, but Bian would find herself wide awake for the rest of the night. Or at least until the next outcry.
Mỹ had made Bian and Andrew promise when they asked her to move to the United States that if it reached a point where their quality of life was negatively impacted by caregiving for her, she wanted them to move her into assisted living.
One particular night, when Bian rushed into her mom’s room, Mỹ was still awake. She hadn’t drifted back to sleep. Mỹ patted the bed and urged Bian to sit.
” My dear child, it is time for you and Andrew to fulfill your promise to me.”
When Bian started to protest, Mỹ held up her hand in a gesture of silence. She then took Bian’s hand as she said “I see the toll in your eyes. It is time. I do not want your home filled with memories of my failing health. We only have so much time remaining my precious one. Please, let’s make sure we are filling it with good memories.
Bian knew her mom was right, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was choosing easy but not necessarily well if Mỹ moved into assisted living.
The next morning Bian talked with Andrew and then called her brothers. Though they had both given their blessings for Mỹ to come to the United States, and both were also aware of the promise Mỹ had made Bian and Andrew make, Bian didn’t want to move to the next step with their mom without them both involved.
True to Andrew, he took her into his arms, held her tight, and told Bian that he supported her knowing when the time was right. If she wanted to wait before moving Mỹ, he would share in the twenty-four-seven care including responding to the nighttime terrors. If she felt the time was now, he would be by her side with hugs, morning tea for her sunrise watching, and would go with her every single time she went to visit Mỹ.
Her brothers reiterated their blessings and trust in Bian’s judgment. They also reminded Bian how much one’s word meant to Mỹ. Bian had promised their mom. She would be choosing well by honoring their mom’s wishes.
Bian already knew the assisted living residence she planned to move Mỹ to. She had already received acceptance to her mom’s application, and it was simply a matter of Bian notifying the social worker that it was now time.
After Bian made the call, still unable to shake the feeling that she wasn’t choosing well, Bian went to Mỹ’s bedroom letting her know availability would be in place the following week. It was a Tuesday, and in nine days, Mỹ would be sleeping in her own room but instead of Bian responding to her crying out, it would be whichever night nurse was on duty.
Bian couldn’t shake the feeling she was abandoning her mom. That she was being selfish not sacrificing her time, her sleep, and her freedom that allowed her to come and go as she pleased. To volunteer at the children’s ward. To paint most every evening. To go out to dinner with Andrew and friends. Bian’s grandma, her mom, and her aunt had all sacrificed for her to have the life she has now.
As Bian sat on her mom’s bed, Mỹ noticed the anguished look on her face. “What is it my precious one?”
“I feel I am not choosing well. I know I promised you, but it doesn’t feel right moving you away from our home.”
Mỹ reached for her daughter’s hand as she spoke. “You are placing love at the center of your choosing. Therefore, it is the right choice.”
“I don’t think I am. If I was placing love at the center, you would stay here.”
“Oh, my dear child. When we are centered in love, we are loving without condition. We are sacrificing what we wish for ourselves to give without condition what we know is most desired and best for the one we love.”
As Mỹ held the palm of her hand on top of Bian’s hand, she spoke. “Go to the closet and bring me the small wooden box.”
Bian did as her mom requested. She knew the wooden box well. As a little girl she longed to open it up. Each time she asked Mỹ if she could look inside, her mom always responded with “one day my precious one we will open it together.”
When Mỹ’s fingers slowly moved the latch and began to open the lid, Bian couldn’t quite believe that at long last that day had arrived.