Wow!

I love the Timehop application on Facebook. It allows opportunities to look back in time and reminds me from where I have come. This week, I was reminded that 5 years ago we received my husband’s cognitive evaluation from the Brain Center. We had escaped from civilization and were spending some time in Florida with our son and his family. We were just 48 years old. I remember feeling relieved that we had received answers, yet terrified.

A whole lot has changed since that point in time. We have met with many specialists, joined support groups, put our affairs in order, and learned a whole lot about the world of Disability and Social Security. We were financially fractured, and are only now showing signs of recovery.

There is a lot of sadness that comes with a dementia diagnosis. Honestly, I struggle with preparing to lose my husband and becoming a widow. My biggest fear is being alone. Yet, I know that it is going to have to be part of my journey. I fear the financial impact. Will I be able to sustain my standard of living on my own? I’ve spent 5 years trying to whittle down our debt so that when the time comes, I don’t lose everything. I don’t know where I’ll live, but I know I can’t stay on the mountain. It’s too much for me. My prayer is that the next family will love it as much as we have.

So many unknowns. I feel like he’s the weight to my helium balloon and when I lose him, I will become weightless and simply flutter off with no real purpose.

On average, people diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia live for 7-8 years from the time of diagnosis, and his diagnosis was retroactive to April, 2013. Every person is different because they all have their own unique medical tangles. My man is what doctors label as “complicated”, so this means that on average, we are down to the last couple years.

That being said, we have been absolutely floored with what he has been able to do this summer. He decided to build on to our north deck and repair the front steps. He watched some YouTube videos and then designed an absolutely gorgeous deck. It was totally not in our budget, and will take us a very long time to pay off, but it is absolutely amazing. He’s still putting on the finishing touches, but it looks incredible!

These are the repaired front steps with a railing.

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This is the addition to our north side.

What impresses me most, is that despite obvious deficiencies, he is still able to do what he loves. He doesn’t recognize most people any more, although he can tell stories about them as we pass by their homes. He has not been able to tie his shoes or drive a car for years. We can’t take him out for long periods of time, because he tires easily. When overstimulated or overtired, he becomes debilitated- shivering, rocking, stuttering, and staring. Yet, he can still mow the lawn, fix the car, repair the porch steps, and build a deck. He cleans the house, washes dishes, and does the laundry.

I am honestly in awe, and I thank God for His blessings. Mostly I thank Him for His mercies and providing clarity so that my husband can still do what he loves to do best. The more we can keep his mind active, the longer we keep him with us. I’ll get the Home Depot card paid off eventually, because what this has done for my husband, far outweighs the debt. I just want him to be happy.

And he is.

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Filled to Overflowing

We celebrated our 32 wedding anniversary on Thursday, and although my husband doesn’t remember anyone who was in our wedding except the two of us, or anything about the day, my heart is happy.

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I can’t explain it. It has been another challenging year in the classroom, yet I can’t help but feel blessed as we near the end of the school year. I feel real JOY.

How can I explain my present state of mind? Honestly, I attribute it to a variety of things. Most importantly. I have spent a very long time in the book of Daniel. It has been one of the best studies that I have done- healing my fragile heart.

Daniel was an educated man who was groomed to become wise counsel to the king. He, along with 3 other men: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were role models from the Old Testament. They faithfully stayed spiritually clean despite many outside challenges. One of my favorite stories was when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into the fiery furnace for their faithfulness to God. Observers said that they saw 4 people walk around inside the ultra hot furnace- illustrating that we never walk alone. They walked out- absolutely unsinged. At one point, the king was tricked into putting Daniel into the lion’s den. Not only did Daniel pray, but so did the king who felt terrible. As a result, Daniel walked away unscathed. Daniel’s wisdom and intense, sincere prayer life has been a huge testimony to me. Not only did he believe, but he lived out his deep and sincere faith.

I’ve been trying to do just that. No matter how high the heat is turned up, I have been asking for wisdom, strength, and courage every single day. I have also worked on praying for those who aren’t very nice to me. I have truly worked toward praying palms up. I no longer ask God to take me out of the furnace. I ask him to walk with me.

I’m not saying that it easy. I’m just saying that I am working harder at it. My mom used to say that our best traits are often our worst. I am hyper-sensitive. I have a huge sense of right and wrong, and when I feel like I have done something wrong, I beat myself up over it for a very long time. To say that I an overthinker is an understatement. I hate confrontation and I run from it at all costs. I want desperately for everyone to just get along.

St. John’s Wort is a wonderful thing. I used to take it when I (or another family members) thought I needed it. Now I take it daily. I have also added a miracle essential oil called Copaiba through Doterra. Two to three drops under my tongue in the morning, along with Lavender, Cedarwood, or blends such as Cheer, Serenity, or Balance on my wrists and neck make my day go smoother. I even bought an inexpensive necklace that I can put a couple drops of oil into. I wear it nearly every day. I have also worked hard to get enough sleep, drink boatloads of water, eat more protein, and less junk. All have helped.

My job is still hard. I often feel like ocean waves slam me against the rocky shore. I never know when the next set of waves are going to come down on me so I often feel unprepared. The demands of the job continue to become greater. However, I have also come to learn that I am no different than anyone else. We all have it hard. Life is challenging for everyone. So, I have taken to noticing eyes: the eyes of my coworkers and loved ones, including those who don’t like me very much. I’m trying to take notice when people need a little extra encouragement, killing them with kindness. How can anyone be upset with you if you are being nice to them?

You know what has happened? When I push through my fears and my sadness, spreading kindness and encouragement, I am encouraged.

Is it foolproof? NO. This week was particularly difficult. I feel like I barely made it through the week. I am battered and bruised. However, I am currently sitting on the back deck with my feet up, listening to inspirational music, looking out over the countryside feeling genuinely blessed.

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I have plenty of reasons to feel sorry for myself, but I refuse to. It’s my decision to choose JOY and be happy with God’s hand in my life, but mostly his promise to never leave me. My glass isn’t half full, it’s overflowing.

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One More

April 18, 2013 and April 1, 1016 are significant days that my family will always remember. Like marks chiseled on a door frame, they will be forever engraved in our minds. They will make us swallow, stifle a tear or two, but mostly make us stop and praise the Lord that we were given a precious gift of a few more years with our most special man.

First, he was diagnosed with (FTD) Frontotemporal Dementia, which is caused by progressive nerve cell loss in the brain’s frontal lobes (the areas behind your forehead) or its temporal lobes (the regions behind your ears), most likely caused (or sped up) by 4 significant blows to the head. Three years later he survived a stroke, which left him wheelchair bound for 10 months.

I don’t think we are alone in measuring time by landmarks: when we were married, had our children, grandchildren, moved, changed jobs… But never, did we celebrate them like we do now.

One more.

We were told at the time of the diagnosis that my favorite man had (on average) 6-8 years to live from the time of onset. On April 18, my husband will have reached his 6 year anniversary.

Honestly, we feel like he is doing well. There are seven stages of FTD and I would guess that he falls in the fifth stage. On average, a dementia patient remains in this stage for about 4 years. As long as we keep his world small and predictable, he continues to be highly functional and needs minimal assistance. At this stage, my husband is quite easy to manage and remains fairly content.

What this means is that we don’t look too far into the future for anything and we celebrate nearly everything. It makes me think: What if everyone looked at life as “one more”? What if we slowed down and stopped looking toward the next —- and just celebrated today- the wonderful, beautiful today?

Today we took our first walk of the season to the ocean, and had one more ice cream. We sat on the warm rocks and watched one more tide roll in, and listened to one more windstorm.

Perhaps we all need a mindset change. Instead of “sitting through one more dreaded meeting”, we looked at the time as one more opportunity to gather with colleagues? Instead of “one more work week”, we looked at the blessing of a job that fulfills us?

Everybody has a hard job, and everyone goes through hard times. But what if… What if we took the time to be thankful and joy-filled because God has graced us and blessed us with “one more”?

One more day to say “I love you.”

One more day to hold his hand on a walk.

One more day to close my eyes and feel the warmth on my body while listening to the waves slap against the rocks, smelling the salty air.

There will come a day when I will miss watching the 2016 election, putting down the toilet seat, and running into furniture that has been moved yet again. There will be a day when I will plead and beg for just one more day.

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Early Onset: A Challenge to Diagnose

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     On Thursday, the Alzheimer’s Association is pushing for a new bill in the state of Maine, LD 1072, that will require doctors and other medical staff to be trained in dementia, hospitals to develop a care plan before discharging a dementia patient, and that doctors always disclose a dementia diagnosis.
     This is our story.
     In May of 2002, my husband (age 36) went to a weekend Men’s Retreat at Camp Fair Haven. It was there, that he had a terrible accident. He rolled his four-wheeler going down a steep hill, holding on for 2 of the 3 rotations. Thankfully, he was wearing safety gear and had a helmet on. However, he remained in Trauma Care for 14 days suffering with multiple injuries that included a shattered ankle, broken collarbone, broken ribs, and a punctured lung.
     In hindsight, I do believe that this is where our Dementia story began.
     My husband is a clutz. If he can trip over, fall off, run into, or drop anything, he does. He has never accepted his limitations and has a very strong work ethic. As a result, he has sustained many injuries over time. I lovingly joke that, “He is the reason we have health insurance”.
     That same year we lost the matriarch of the family to cancer: his mother. He hit rock bottom. He could not get his bearings. It was at that time that the doctor put him on the first of many antidepressants. Many made him worse. So we would slowly wean him off one set, and wean him on another. We blamed his mood, social, and cognitive glitches on the loss of the mother that he adored.
     Over time, he has sustained 3 more significant blows to the head, participated in unsafe behavior, began self-medicating with alcohol and had what doctors classified as a classic “Midlife Crisis” in 2009. Our marriage of 22 years nearly dissolved.
     In 2010, my husband lost his father to cancer. Again, doctors continued to treat the obvious: depression. He attended counseling and weekly support groups.
     In 2013, he abruptly lost his job of 17 years after making an error on an insurance claim for a customer, submitting the claim as a “final bill” instead of a “final quote.” He had no idea that the error had been made, until a private investigator knocked on the front door to our home.
     We were denied unemployment, despite hiring lawyer #1 on half-salary, and appealing the decision twice.  His employer insisted that he made the error on purpose, although my husband clearly had nothing to gain.  It was cruel and humiliating. At that time, he was 47 years old.
     Seven months later, he was hired at a competitive company, and worked just 5 months before employers let him go. His employers thought there might be something wrong with his memory and encouraged him to see a doctor. So, a year later, to the date, my husband lost his second job.
     This is when we got serious with doctors and insisted on extensive testing.
     
It took two and a half years to get Social Security Disability. We were denied twice and forced to testify at a hearing with lawyer #2 for $6,000 despite medical paperwork 2 inches thick.
     In March of 2016 my husband had a stroke, which left him in a wheelchair for 10 months.
     
Much of what we have learned, we have learned on our own. Doctors are reluctant to answer questions because “every case is different”, and patients and caregivers are forced to reach and grab at straws. Thankfully, a specialized support group for early-onset coached us.
     
However, the most frustrating part of the diagnosis is that I feel like I have to be a strong advocate and educator to medical professionals and personnel. When I take him to the ER, which we frequent for Urinary Tract Infections and spikes in Blood Pressures, I have to be right by his side. I carry a fist full of papers which include his medical history, the history of his family, his multiple medication list, Medical and Financial Power of Attorney, and a DNR. This was as a result of lawyer #3 & #4, Eldercare Lawyers hired to prepare end of life paperwork & Wills.
     I have to remind professionals to talk to him and look at him while I listen. I have to coach them to put him in a quiet space, to speak slowly and simply, to dim the lights, and keep me with him as much as possible, because Dementia is huge and complicated, and nobody knows how to support and quiet nerves more than the caregiver. A huge part of the diagnosis is FEAR: fear of crowds, people, everything.
     At one point, our Primary Care Physician discussed the possibility of Home Visits. I would like to recommend that as something medical professionals consider. My husband is a very different person at home. If medical professionals want to see an accurate representation of where those diagnosed are at in their progression, I would highly recommend a home visit.
     After both his accident and his stroke, Home Health Care was fantastic. PT, OT, nursing, and social workers came to our home during the day, allowing me to continue to work full-time.
     We are young and many health care facilities aren’t accustomed to working with those diagnosed with Dementia in their late 40’s/early 50’s. As a result, many people have difficulty getting diagnosed, and are misdiagnosed for an extended period of time. At his highest point, my husband was taking 27 pills a day. I worry about the time that we are not longer able to care for him in our home. Thankfully, our youngest daughter and her family were able to move in with us and care for him by day so that I can continue to work full-time. She is taking on-line classes with a focus on Gerontology, with the hope that as he progresses, she will be better equipped to care for him and keep me working. (I’m not eligible for retirement for another 10 years.) Our older daughter has extensive training and has been an additional coach/support system for us. Although her home base is in Arkansas, she comes home for nearly every school break. I often wonder what would happen to my husband if he didn’t have such a strong support system.
     Today he is 53. We are nearing the 6 year anniversary of his diagnosis, and we are told that on average those diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia live 7-8 years from the time of onset. At this point, he isn’t receiving any extra medical care: no more specialists. Initially, we reached out to the Brain Center for testing, Dementia Specialist, Neurologist, PT, OT, and saw a multitude of specialists. Although he remains fairly high functioning, he just wants to live his life. Thankfully his PCP has been very supportive of our decision.
     We just need to know that when the time comes, medical personnel are adequately trained in dementia care, a care plan is provided before sending us to next steps, and that professionals are equipped to help caregivers fill out necessary paperwork for long-term care. We need to be able to access local memory care facilities equipped to work with those of early onset Dementia, so that our loved one is not housed in the same area as the elderly or those with differing mental health diagnosis. In the end, we want to easily access our loved one, and be provided the quality and affordable care that he deserves.
    Please consider testifying on behalf of those diagnosed and contact your local representatives regarding LD 1072. I did.
     Cynthia Higgins
Waldo County, Maine
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     Here is a copy of the bill:

Win! Win!

I went to Wal-Mart yesterday and I only lost my husband once. I consider that a win, win! It isn’t uncommon for any of us to misplace our loved ones on occasion. However, in our case, we are preparing to hit the 6-year anniversary of one of my husband’s worst days of his life: the day that he lost his job of 17 years. It is also when we began to realize that something was very wrong.

Honestly, it has become a blessing. I believe that removing that stress has added both quality and quantity to his life and as a result, our marriage has never been sweeter. Yes, he has dementia. Yes, we know what that means. However, it isn’t all gloom and doom. In fact, it is mostly fine.

My husband is the same old goofball he’s always been. This week I found oven mitts in the frig. This Fall, he had somehow managed to get the entire coffee maker in there. I eventually found out the reason for the coffee pot: to keep the ants out. (Naturally!) I am convinced that there is some equally good reason for the placement of the oven mitts. We just don’t know what it is yet. Perhaps it is to have nice cold mitts to take hot items from the stove and this is the beginning of a new trend!

He still likes to go on short trips to meet up with familiar people. Yesterday we ran errands on the way to have lunch with friends- hence the “quick stop” to Wal-Mart. We went in for 3 items: shoe goo, coffee creamer, and toothpaste. We came out with $115 worth of things we “needed”. (My man just loves to shop!) During check-out he needed to use the restroom and didn’t return. The cashier patiently allowed me to scoop up my favorite guy, who was standing outside the bathroom, looking all around. He wasn’t upset. When I asked him if he was lost, he said, “I was waiting. I knew you’d find me.” I reassured him that he did exactly as we have taught the kids to do, and he nodded his head, proud that he had done the right thing.

Once leaving the store, he became concerned about all the cars in the lot: “Our car is lost.” I always make it a point to talk about where our car is and landmarks surrounding it, when we park. Yesterday, I had announced that we were nose toward the Home Depot flag. He followed my directions as I instructed him where to go, even though he didn’t quite believe me, and he was relieved to find the car.

It made me wonder, how much does that happen during a typical day? How often is he “standing outside the restroom” or “searching for the car” until his brain catches up or until one of us gently finds him and brings him back, or guides him to where he needs to be?

We have had to remind him on several separate occasions that he has just had his 53rd birthday. He keeps forgetting and sometimes doesn’t believe us. One minute he’s in a fog. The next, he is perfectly clear. Yesterday he told our friends, “I don’t know why people say that you are another year older. You are only one day older than the day before. What’s the big deal?” (He’s right you know.)

He’s a nerd. He has always been a joker. My brother said the other day, “I can’t tell if he is legitimately confused, or playing with me.” He’s right. When my brother wished him happy birthday, my favorite man seriously said, “It’s my birthday?” When he told my husband his age, he replied, “That can’t be. That’s old.” 51973075_10218188709851508_3315212005115166720_n.jpg

When I ask him if he feels 53, he tells me that he feels older. He says that he hurts, is tired all the time, and that he hates his gray hair. Some days this is particularly obvious and he can barely function all morning long. He just sits in a daze with his hand over his eyes. He can’t hold a conversation, or even feed himself. But after a nap, nine times out of ten, he’s back to his old self and pontificating about current events. Mornings are often rough- slow to get going, and evenings are generally when he is the most clear. He matches the weather. If it’s a foggy day- so is he. He doesn’t seem to be experiencing “Sun Downing”, which is common of those who have been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. (A fog when the sun goes down.) In fact, he prefers the evening (with the lights on) and sleeps better when the sun is out. When I ask him about that, he says that he “doesn’t like the dark”.

What’s really strange is that he knows ABOUT many people. He can often hold a two-way conversation about friends, family, and community members. Yet, he has no idea who they are when he sees them. The kids and I prep him before gatherings, but it’s a crap shoot. Sometimes he’s fine. Sometimes he’s a hot mess. Sometimes he’s fine for a bit, and ends a hot mess. Generally, we can take him places where we are pretty sure he isn’t going to know anyone and he is fine- like the ocean, the grocery store, or Home Depot. Failure tends to come when we take him to places where he feels like he should know people or people might know him.

This even happens at home. After Christmas we had a small gathering of friends from church come to the house. He cooked, cleaned, and talked about many of the people who were going to be attending. However, as soon as the first guest entered the house, he began to stutter, stare, and shake, so my daughter shuffled him off to watch a movie in the bedroom. He was much happier with the baby, some snacks, and REMEMBER THE TITANS on the TV.

It’s weird. He misses people, but he wants to be alone. He wants to go places, but he wants to stay home. So, if we can get him out into public and only lose him once, I call that a WIN, WIN!

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It Takes A Village

A colleague reminded me this week that we all have people in our circle who watch over us. She referred to the support system as a village, which has left me thinking.

In the world of teaching, we often feel isolated. It sounds funny, that a unit of like-minded people could work together, yet separately, and feel lonely. After all, we have little people all around us and we work with a large number of adults. However, the reality is that we have little time for personal social interaction.

Some people are perfectly happy being alone. I am not.

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My favorite time period of teaching was the 13 years that I team taught. My co-teacher and I worked like a finely tuned machine. Her strengths were my weaknesses and mine were hers. We complimented each other. We worked primarily in the portable classrooms, just outside of the school building, and renamed it the Learning Cottage. We created our own village. We all loved it out there. It was like a little 2-room schoolhouse that included 40 children. Quite honestly, it was at the highlight of my teaching.

We weren’t made to live in isolation. Even wolves travel in packs. I think we were designed to be part of like-minded groups. Those units shift and change, but I believe that I am a better me when I am around loyal people with like-goals, who sincerely want to be with me.

We live in a naturally competitive society and I am not competitive in any way shape or form. I don’t want to ever draw attention to myself. I don’t like confrontation. I want to blend in. I am a team player, and have very high expectations for myself and others within my small village.

I am faithful to a fault, and sometimes I get burned because I am so trusting. Sometimes in a pack, wolves turn on the old and the fragile. I am not old, but I’ll admit that I am fragile. Sometimes it takes my whole village to keep me moving forward. I am so thankful for them.

A small Gift Card is often left in my school mailbox to help with groceries. I am so thankful for the anonymous villager who is quietly watching over me. It helps to ward off the loneliness. You’d be surprised at how many times that card has pushed us through- the exact amount needed to get us to the next paycheck. Whoever you are, I pray that you are reading this. I am so thankful for your commitment to making me feel cared for.

Our world has become much smaller as my favorite man forgets people he rarely sees. I find it interesting that he talks about people as we pass by their homes. However, if those same people pop into our house, he often doesn’t know who they are. He is lonely, but he doesn’t want to see people. It’s too scary because they know him and he doesn’t know them. (If I think about it, if a stranger showed up insisting he knew me and I didn’t recognize him, I would be terrified and I wouldn’t want to let him in.) We don’t travel very far or for very long. It’s too scary. This means that our short outings are predictable, and generally places where he won’t run into anyone.

A few years ago, I shared our dilemma with our pastor. His response: if people (the village) don’t come to me, then I (because he won’t go) need to go to the village. The snag is that I am needed at home as soon as school is over. My guy paces and waits for me by the window every afternoon, waiting for my return.

So, to the faithful members of my small village: you know who you are, THANK YOU. You give me strength, encouragement, and talk me off the ledge when my nerves seem like they cannot withstand one more obstacle.

Today I am thankful for the sweet moments that I get to share with my favorite man and that I am not alone.

May the members of our individual villages be patient in tribulation, bless those who persecute us, and abhor evil. My prayer is that everyone is a part of a intimate village that lifts and encourages one another no matter what the time and the hour. May we use our individual gifts to strengthen each another. Together may we all rejoice in hope, cleave to what is good, and always display love. May we not go through the motions, but instead, be a wise and cheerful blessing. (Romans 12)

Spaghetti Struggles

“How do I understand him better? Why does he say what he says? Why does he do what he does? Isn’t it common sense? Doesn’t he just know what I need? Why do I have to tell him again? I feel like he doesn’t care.”

Partnerships are complicated. There are no exceptions. Relationships between any two human beings need work, and those that matter the most require a whole lot of hard work. (I dare say that 100% of the time: every day, and all day.) Our family has relied on the two books featured. If you haven’t read them, I highly suggest taking the plunge. They are a quick easy read jam-packed with great practical information.

So what happens when one can’t give 100% and your relationship leans to one side? For whatever reason, the relationship is lopsided. Now what?

These are my favorite verses to fall back on. When I am feeling defeated, alone, and fear is getting the best of me, this is the place where I land:

26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26,28

This week my husband was faced with a “plate of spaghetti” and I had an opportunity to see how he was able to tackle it in his dementia state of mind. Women think like spaghetti. They have a thousand things whizzing around and multiple plates to juggle at once. It is how we are hardwired. Men, generally do not multitask as well, and like to handle tasks one waffle square at a time. This is definitely true with the men in my life.

In the past- before dementia, my husband would handle a “plate of spaghetti”- multiple dilemma’s all interwoven, by peeling apart one or two parts of the dish at a time. In fact, I remember him coaching our teenage children through each crisis by giving them a list of 2-3 things to do, with a timeline. He would help them by placing the parts and pieces of the spaghetti dish into waffle squares to be tackled one at a time. He was good at it, and the kids would gravitate toward our calm problem solver.

I, on the other hand, am a practical problem solver and a BIG PICTURE girl. The kids didn’t need my help to see the forest just yet. They just needed to see one tree at a time, and he was their go-to person. In fact, I have often made things worse if I interfere too early.

We have been a team. We compliment each other very much. He has traditionally seen the trees and could get them out of the forest. Then he would tag out and I could help them to process and plan next steps.

So, back to the spaghetti. My brain goes a mile a minute. In fact, on this Saturday, I was awakened at an early hour with a headache, a sore jaw, and thoughts flying through my brain at warped speed.

My husband’s brain does not. This week he sat and stared at his figurative plate of spaghetti, and could not pull out just one part at a time and work through our multilayered challenges. He didn’t even know where to start. The only solution that he could think of wasn’t a possibility. He just sat and cried. He knew I needed him, but he couldn’t help.

So what happens when the relationship is lopsided, despite all the best intentions, and your better half can’t speak your love language?  In Matthew, Jesus says that church members should forgive each other “seventy times seven times” (18:22), a number that symbolizes boundlessness. I take this as a directive for healthy humans. But what if one isn’t? What if he just can’t reciprocate the way I need him to? Now what?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

Matthew 22:37

Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

1 John 4:8

I think the answer is to love and to take what he can give because something is better than nothing. So, to all of you who don’t have an equal partnership, and a plate of spaghetti is just too much to maneuver through, my advice is to take what you can get and accept what he can give. Put on your game face, be the best YOU you can be, and take the blessings, because life is hard and unpredictable. Don’t waste one precious moment thinking about what you don’t have or how your needs aren’t being 100% met. Instead, focus on what you do have. Count your blessings, name them one by one. I do believe that we will be rewarded in the end.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

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