Finding grace to live each day

Mary Ann Hille is one of Tulsa's outstanding citizens. She writes about Alzheimer's with candor and compassion. Sometimes hope for tomorrow grows from acceptance of limitations today.

Mary Ann tells us about her beloved husband in my book of devotions, “Practice”:

Jo Bob had it all. He was tall and trim, handsome, with dimples that flashed when he smiled his gap-toothed grin. He was witty, smart and lucky. Lucky like the person who always got his name drawn in a raffle. He was successful in business, had a million friends and could quickly diffuse a difficult situation with his easy “aw shucks” kind of humor. He filled up a room.

And, I am lucky, too, because he was my husband.

It was hard to believe that he would be a victim of younger onset Alzheimer's Disease at the age of 56. How was it possible that someone so vibrant, so full of life, would become a total dependent unable to put his own socks on, eat with a fork, walk much of a distance, or converse. He could do nothing to entertain himself. He couldn't read the paper, follow a story or a sporting event on television, or figure out what club to use in golf or where to aim the ball.

It was heartbreaking to see that he had to give up his beloved fishing because he became afraid to step in the boat. As his capabilities began to diminish, his anxieties skyrocketed. It was like watching an onion be peeled — layer by layer, the parts of his personality that made him Jo Bob were rolled back and thrown away.

For me, these were desperate times. The man I had loved for almost 40 years was slipping away, piece by piece, like the fade-out at the end of a movie, and there was nothing I could do that would change that. I went to support groups, took him to adult day care groups so that I could have a break from care giving, and I depended on family and friends to help me carry the burden. I think I would have gone insane without the help of Jo Bob's sister and husband, our daughters, and other dear friends like Bob and Ruthie who would meet us for dinner at 4 p.m. on Tuesdays when I would pick him up from day care. Really, who goes to dinner at 4 p.m.?

Here is what I learned. Actually, I already knew this, but only in my head. Alzheimer's showed me how to have it in my heart.

I learned that sometimes there is nothing to be done except endure what has been given, and I learned that prayer and relying on my Lord when I was desperate and exhausted could give me the grace I needed to go another hour. Or two. Or even a day.

God, I find, does not expect us to manage life perfectly. He just expects us to ask Him to stand with us in the midst of whatever might come, trusting in His love, patiently waiting for the grace to live each day.

“Peace I give you. My peace I leave with you.” —John —John 14:27 14:27