Merry Christmas!

With Christmas approaching I decided to decorate my mother’s little sitting-room with a theme close to her heart. Her main concern these days is to make sure that the wildlife in our garden doesn’t go hungry, so she keeps the bird-feeders well supplied with nuts and seeds and then sits back and watches the birds and squirrels as they come to claim the food. It gives her endless pleasure just looking at them busily eating with so much enthusiasm!

So the decoration in her room this Christmas is a theme of squirrels and birds among the normal Christmas glitter.

Christmas is a good time for Mum. She may not be able to remember what happened yesterday, but she can recall with great clarity bygone Christmases that were celebrated in the sun in Africa. She recollects with nostalgia how my father would erect a long trestle table in the shade in their garden, which would subsequently be covered in a festive cloth and loaded with cold meats and salad, fruit and chocolate. The whole family would sit around the table on a variety of chairs and stools, and laughter would mingle with the bird song coming from the trees. Now my father has passed away, the family is scattered in six different countries on three different continents, and it’s unlikely that they will all come together again. But the memories are precious and special – and so far they haven’t been snatched away by her dementia.

Toto is also looking forward to Christmas. She knows as soon as the decorations come out that the festive season is upon us – and it’s a good season for dogs as inevitably there are more goodies about and many fall from the rich man’s table into their jaws! She also knows that she gets gifts, packets of treats, a new ball and a toy or two, so when we come home from shopping she takes a lot of interest in the shopping-bags, rather like a child trying to get a peek of their presents before Christmas!

Toto has already hung up her stocking!

So we are now well into the festive season and already there are parties to attend, gifts to buy and memories to dwell upon. Much has been written about the Christmas season – both good and bad. Christian and secular values are often very different at this time of the year, but in a way that only humans can, they have somehow managed to mesh them together so that everyone gets a bit of what they want!

Christmas is a Christian festival, but although there are other festivals mentioned in the Bible Christmas is not one of them. However, as we rush around with thoughts of what gifts we might buy for family and friends it is a good time to reflect on what a wonderful gift Jesus is to the world as we look ahead to the most important of all Christian festivals – Easter.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:6

Autumn is upon us and change is in the atmosphere. The leaves are already falling and dancing to the tune of the autumn winds, and there is a freshness in the air that has prompted the migrating birds to fly to a country where the sun is still warm and friendly. The autumn colours are lovely, but there is a sombre feel to this season – a warning that the time of regrowth and reproduction is now at an end and it is now a time for reflection and survival through the coming winter months.
Change is not welcome if you suffer from dementia. If things could only jog along without any change, month after month, it would be better – easier. The smallest of changes are confusing, upsetting even. Different clothes, warmer bedding, the need for a heater or electric-blanket all become major disruptions in life. There must be a long debate to decide if these changes are really necessary, and when they are implicated it takes time to become accustomed to them. My job is to make the transition as seamless as possible for Mum and, with her indomitable spirit, she takes on what has become a challenge for her unflinchingly, there have been many unwanted changes in her life of almost ninety years and this is just one more!

Toto doesn’t like the heat at all, so she loves autumn. The freshness in the air seems to rejuvenate her and on her walks she greets all her admirers, both human and animal, with a new enthusiasm. Her arthritic joints are forgotten as she prances around younger dogs, welcoming a few seconds of play before we move on. When we get to places where there is a covering of soft green grass she must have a roll. For her it is especially nice if the grass is dew soaked or frosty or covered by light snow. I don’t know why this should be – it must be a ‘dog thing’. Best of all for her, dare I say it, is when she finds something absolutely disgusting to roll in – the smellier the better! This results in her having to have a shower when we return home. She has to sit on Mum’s shower chair and have the ‘delicious’ aroma scrubbed off her body and washed down the drain. You can see in her reproachful eyes that she thinks this is a waste, but she realises that it must be a ‘human thing’ – and she rather enjoys the shower!

Autumn isn’t a bad month if you’re a writer. There are less distractions in the garden. The grass and hedges grows slower so don’t need cutting so frequently. The flowers that have been so beautiful all summer have reached their full potential and there is nothing more you can do for them until winter sets in, and then everything has to be cut back and made ready for the bleak months.

That means there is more time to write, to immerse yourself in your characters’ lives, get to know them better, live with them through their trials and successes. When you are with them your own life falls away, you are in another place, another situation, you feel what they are going through.

The biggest distraction lately has been the thunderstorms we’ve been experiencing. Mum doesn’t like them very much and Toto is terrified by the noise and tries to hide in ridiculous places where she can’t possibly fit – like under the bookshelf! But I love the drama and excitement of a big thunderstorm, with brilliant flashes of jagged lightning punctuated by huge crashes of thunder and bombarding rain. It thrills me to think of a bigger power demonstrating his authority over this puny and sinful world.

I especially like thunderstorms if they come during the night because they are even more dramatic. I feel the power of them vibrating up through the soles of my feet, and the electrical discharges of the lightning seem to connect with the electricity in my own body and energise me in a strange way that I cannot explain. I only know that during the day after the storm I have a clearer head, ideas come to me more readily – and for that day I am a better writer!

Listen! Listen to the roar of his voice, to the rumbling that comes from his mouth. He unleashes his lightning beneath the whole heaven and sends it to the ends of the earth. After that comes the sound of his roar; he thunders with his majestic voice.

Job 37: 2-4

Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!

These are the lyrics of the beautiful song ‘Windmills Of Your Mind’, but right now the words express my life. Life has to go forward and of course mine does, but in a whorled or spiral motion. It has to be like that because of the very special person with whom I live.

Jean and Jan

Dementia is the most horrible disease. It steals away a person’s life very slowly and painfully. It’s like pulling a plaster off a hairy part of your anatomy very gradually so that each pulled hair is agonisingly extracted, and it hurts those who witness it almost as much as those who are suffering from it.

The memory is such a precious thing and when one gets old it is sometimes the last pleasure one has, remembering all the beautiful and funny things that have happened in a lifetime of events. But dementia steals that pleasure away. Things in the past become fuzzy and confused, while things that have happened recently are completely stolen away almost immediately.

Helping a person with dementia to live a pleasant life can be challenging, but a strict routine and an unchanging rhythm to the days help to stabilise that person and give them perspective. So on any given day in the week the same things need to happen, be it cleaning, shopping, laundry or whatever. The time we rise in the morning must be the same each day, and the time we retire to bed must not vary. Meal times must be set and bath time is always the same. Every little thing that is done during the day has its proper time, and it continues to happen in an unvaried pattern day after day, so eventually the days seem to spiral past … ‘never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel.’

Toto

Into this rather bland lifestyle there is a splash of brightness in the form of Toto, my little fat Staffy. She, too, is getting old and is suffering from arthritis and cancer, but she doesn’t know or care about this and she behaves like she always has – in a rather mad but endearing way. In Zambia they would say she was completely penga (crazy). She feels her mission in life is to make people happy and this she does with aplomb. Everyone who comes here gets the famous ‘Toto welcome,’ be it a workman or a friend. Big Staffy grin as she prances around them with her eyes alight with pleasure and her wagging tail a blur. Long tongue licking any bit of exposed leg or arm it can find, moth-eaten toys proffered with love, ears nibbled if the recipient bends down to pat her, and all done with such an air of exuberant ecstasy it fairly takes the breath away. Dog-lovers think she’s lovely – those who are not too keen on dogs really hate her! Mum and I love her of course – we think she’s the best!

Mum spends much of her time watching the birds and squirrels in our garden. It gives her hours of pleasure and when she is thus occupied I know she is safe and not trying to do something she can no longer manage. During this time I can creep away to do some writing. I was not blessed with an academic mind, instead God decided to give me an over active imagination so I channel this into my writing. It is a blessing for which I am really grateful. Some of which I write gets published, much does not, but the words keep coming and stories weave together in my head and then ricochet around in my mind until I’m compelled to sit down and type them out.

A man’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?
Proverbs 20: 24