I don’t remember the last thing I told you.  Did I tell you her anti-anxiety meds make her less than coherent?  You could tell the thoughts were there, but they couldn’t make the connections in her brain to become the right words.  For example, she’d be thirsty and start to ask for water, but her eyes would see my ponytail and it would come out, “I need some… ponytail.” 

In other news, my mind-reading abilities have improved.

We finally realized that the anti-anxiety meds were causing her more anxiety than before because of the frustration of not being able to communicate, so she’s been off them for awhile now. 

Thursday (last Thursday, a week ago), I came over and brought Olivia’s tulle skirt from her Tinkerbell costume because, well, the crunch was on and I needed every spare minute to slipstich that beast together.  I also thought my mom would enjoy it, if she was lucid enough.

That day was the best day since I’ve been here. I carried the skirt into her room, laid it down, and went over to her bed and told her about it.  She immediately wanted to see it.  I brought it over and showed it to her.  The lighting in that room isn’t the best, so she asked to see it in the kitchen. Rich helped her into the kitchen and I showed it to her again.

“Oh my goodness!” she said. Her face in the biggest smile and her voice with the most excitement I’d seen in months.  It still wasn’t much, as she was so weak, but her eyes lit up in a way that made me want to cry.  “She’s going to love it! It’s gorgeous!”

She was so… with it.  I could ask her a question and get an immediate response.  She asked me how I’d been, and I got to tell her.  I showed her pictures from my phone of the costumes I had completed so far and asked if she would like the kids to come over the next day so she could see the finished products.  She said yes.

Friday, we brought the kids over.  I was hoping she was still in the same condition.  Mentally, she was.  But that was the day she stopped walking.  She no longer had the strength to support herself, even with help.  So she was in a wheelchair.  But she ooh’ed and ah’ed over the kids and they didn’t seem put off by her appearance.  Granted, I had warned them that Grandma wouldn’t be the same, would be weaker, would look sicker.  And also, they were distracted by the Cupboard of Toys.  We stayed about 20 minutes, and then corralled the craziness out the door so Grandma could nap.

Saturday, I came over and asked if she remembered the kids’ visit and she did.  I was happy.

Sunday, I was too busy with church, shopping for winter 3T clothes for Benjamin (he grew overnight), and finishing up Josh’s and my costumes, and trick-or-treating to come over.

Tuesday was my next opportunity to see her and she had taken another step backwards.  Only at this point I wonder if I should be saying “forwards”.  Half-full or half-empty.  I go back and forth.  Her responses weren’t making sense and I asked Rich if she’d had more meds and he said no.  No, this is just the next step.

It’s Thursday, and I’m back out here and it’s the same.  So I thank God for last Thursday.  It was such a joy to my heart to have my mom back for those several hours.

I will praise Him in this storm.

Do you know how many times that song has played as I pull up to my mom’s house?

And one detail has caught my attention.  It’s not “after” the storm.  It’s “in” it.  Once again, I say “amen” and it’s still raining.

Amen.