Different but still friends | by Linda Brendle

Published by the Rains County Leader on April 10, 2018:

Friendship is not easily defined. The dictionary says a friend is a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, but friendship is more than that. During the ten years when I was single again, I met Mary one night at choir practice. Before the night was over, we had discovered that we were both raised in small towns in west Texas, we were both single after twenty-three years of marriage, and we both had one child. We had so much in common that we sometimes wondered if I had been switched at birth with her twin sister. We were and still are fast friends. Friendships are often based on common grounds, but sometimes it takes some investigation to discover those grounds.

Ten years ago I read a book titled Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore. It’s not unusual for two friends to write a book together, but Ron was a millionaire art dealer, and Denver was a former victim of modern-day slavery who escaped only to end up living on the streets of Dallas and Fort Worth. Their common ground was Deborah, Ron’s wife whose passion was helping the homeless, and their heart-warming story is well worth reading.

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Lessons from another storm | by Linda Brendle

Published in the Rains County Leader on May 9, 2017:

When I sat down to write this week’s column, it was one of those times when I stared at the blank screen while the cursor blinked at me saying, “Well, write something.” Several hours later, I was still staring and it was still blinking, so I stopped and fixed dinner.

While I was staring, and while I was cooking, I was also thinking. I was thinking about all the stories I heard this past week about how our community has come together to help their neighbors in need. The stories were really good ones, but there are problems. First, many of the stories have already been reported and second, the people involved in the other stories are friends of mine. Most of my friends have, at one time or another, been the subject of one of my columns. Now when they tell me a story, they look at me with a grin and say, “Don’t you write about this.”

Granddaughters, Broken Hearts, and Good Friday | by Linda Brendle

My granddaughter Zoe spends more time thinking about spiritual matters then the typical six year old, but having a mother who is a minister and a father who is a Christian author has informed her theology at a young age. Three years ago, when asked what God looks like, she answered, She has a big, beautiful face.  She also announced that Jesus likes birthday parties, and after a Good Friday service she said that her heart broke into two pieces for Jesus. I hated the thought of her feeling so sad, but the fact is that broken hearts are a part of life.

Post-Christmas Decisions | by Linda Brendle

Christmas involves a lot of decisions: which friends and relatives to visit or to invite, which family favorites to put on the menu, and which loved ones to put on the naughty list and which ones go on the other list. Today, on the first day of the New Year, most of the visitors have gone home, most of the leftovers have been eaten or thrown out, and most of the gifts have been put away. Still, there are decisions to be made.

The Promise Never Changes | by Linda Brendle

Christmas is a time of tradition. By definition, tradition is the transmission of customs from generation to generation, but as anyone who has raised children knows, each generation feels a need to put its own stamp on any custom passed on by the previous generation. As a result, while Christmas is a time of tradition, it is also a time of change. Here are a few of them.
In my lifetime, I’ve seen a lot of changes in the Christmas tree. First, the natural evergreen gave way to the flocked tree which was covered by some kind of fluffy concoction that mimicked the appearance of snow. Next came artificial trees. Thankfully, the aluminum ones that were spotlighted with a spinning color wheel were short-lived, but the first plastic ones weren’t much better. They were made of a green material similar to what is used on the end of party toothpicks, and they shed needles almost as badly as the natural trees. Artificial trees have since evolved to the point that it’s hard to tell them from the real thing except that you don’t have to water them, and they don’t begin to droop after a week or two. Having perfected the tree itself, manufacturers have moved to the next level by adding fiber-optic lighting that eliminates the tangled mess of lights that never all work at the same time.

Interview with Christian Piatt, Author of postChristian

Today I’m sharing an interview with Christian Piatt, author of postChristian: What’s Left? Can We Fix It? Do We Care?, a new book which is described by Jericho Books as exposing the Church’s biggest “scandals” and “virtues” with bold new vision for Christianity’s future in a “post-Christian” World. Before we get to the questions and answers, let me share more of what the publisher says about the book.

Caregiver Quotes and Tips #9 – Melody and Memory

Even in the later stages of Alzheimer’s, many people still respond to music.

Ours was a musical family, and many of our gatherings included a hymn sing around the piano. Mom and I liked to stand together so we could harmonize, and sometimes we had our own singing sessions seated side by side on our piano bench at home. When she and Dad came to live with David and me, we took them to church with us every Sunday where, once again, she and I sang side by side. She struggled with some of the contemporary choruses, but she remembered the old hymns.

The senior adult ministry at our church had a monthly luncheon that always included some sort of entertainment. Once in a while that took the form of a hymn sing, and one afternoon, someone requested “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” It was one of “our” songs, one of the first songs we sang together. As we sang, our eyes met, and just for a moment, her eyes cleared and my mother was there, as she had been before Alzheimer’s. It didn’t last long. As the clarity faded from her eyes, she continued to sing, but I couldn’t make a sound past the lump in my throat. A couple of years later, there was another hymn sing, but Mom didn’t show up. She was physically present, and she sang along, but she stumbled over some of the words, and when our eyes met, there was no clarity.

Later, when Mom moved to assisted living, I spent a lot of my visiting time just sitting with her. One afternoon we were in the common area, and the TV was on one of the Gaither Gospel music shows. Without conscious thought, I started singing along, and Mom joined in. Her words were garbled and incoherent except when she came to the word “Jesus.” There was no connection between us, but every time Jesus’ name came up in a song, she smiled and sang out clearly and with conviction.

Her love of music continued to the end. When my brother played his guitar for her, she clapped in rhythm of hummed a line of harmony. When she passed away, the staff who took care of her sent a card with personal notes scribbled inside. One said “I’ll never forget dancing with her and listening to her hum to the songs at church.” Mom loved music, and she loved Jesus. Alzheimer’s didn’t stand a chance against that combination.

Blessings,

Linda

A LONG AND WINDING ROAD: A Caregiver’s Tale of Life, Love, and Chaos

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