This is the Day

This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.


This is the day that started at 4 am when my Father’s trip to the restroom lets us know that the part of his brain that tells him where and how to use the restroom isn’t working anymore.


This the day I must accept that we’ve moved into stage 6 of Alzheimer’s and with it a new set of challenges.

This is the fifth straight day of rain, what my Father calls “liquid sunshine,” swirled with muddy browns and murky greys, but I am desperate for vibrant color.


This is the day My Father bows his head before breakfast and thanks God for his blessings and for the food, his words sometimes slipping and sliding all over one another but Mom and I don’t mind because we hear his heart.


This is the day we give him his medicine and tell him to swallow, only sometimes he gets confused and tries to chew it first. There are worse things.

This is the day my Father snoozes in his recliner with the paper in his lap and like a baby fast asleep in his crib, I am grateful for this habit because I know he’s safe.


This is the day Mom makes an appointment with the doctor because caring for my Dad these past 14 years has taken a serious toll on her mind and body as caregiving is hazardous to your health.


This is the day I take Dad to Grace Arbor, where he’s welcomed with opened arms and pats on the back from some of the kindest people I’ve ever known, and he cracks jokes while taking his place at the table for coffee and a chat with his tablemates.

This is the day I wonder what’s around the corner and how close we are to it.


This is the day I go to the office and greet my coworkers, who have dwindled down from 19 to 7 since our parent company decided to close our catalog and I am grateful to be one of the 7 still needed.


This is the day I swing by Grace Arbor and find Dad playing the tambourine and singing lyrics I didn’t think he still knew, so I record these precious moments and add them to my priceless collection.

This is the day he tells me stories about his father on the drive home, remembering the details differently than the day before so I smile, nod and don’t correct him.


This is the day Mom and I are too tired to cook, so I skirt a drive-thru and ask Dad to hold the bag of food, something he’s only too eager to do because it makes him feel needed.


This is the day I reach for Pandora and every song I listen to is exactly what I need to hear, that God is for me, not against me, that He hears my SOS, picks me up in my brokenness and makes me new.

This is the day I escape into a WWII book about America’s greatest female spy, who eluded the Nazis and every chapter I read of those dark days slams me into reality ~ that I am beyond blessed.


This is the day that I help Dad get ready for bed and when I tuck him in, he says, “Thank you for taking care of me.”


This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

10 thoughts on “This is the Day”

  1. Oh Angie, the last sentence thanking you for taking care of him, really tugged at my heartstrings. Your sweet story was also confirming to me that all kinds of craziness can be going on one day, and the next day (or possibly the same day) our loved ones are so seemingly in control; that you might question (albeit briefly) the original diagnosis.

    1. Yes. So many people are so astounded that my Dad has had this disease for 14 years that they question the diagnosis. But I really believe that is God’s grace as well as the Word my Father has hidden in his heart. I think God’s Word preserves us. I pray you are doing well and experiencing floods of God’s grace and goodness!

  2. Angie,

    Thank you for sharing your journey. I love seeing your videos of your dad singing along to those oldies he remembers. That is just precious. Thank you for opening the door to your world. The good and the bad. Your love and care for your parents are a beautiful inspiration to me.

  3. God said “Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Angie, you have done and are doing that. You’re going to have a long, fulfilling life as you treasure your memories of this time, and I believe that your memories; unlike your dad’s, will not fade through time.

  4. Angie, you never cease to be real and pour out your heart, which in turn encourages others that we’re not alone on this difficult journey. Thank you for today’s reminder to be thankful and joyful in all things! You are an amazing woman, fiercely dedicated to your family. Praying for God to bless you in many ways!

    1. Thank you Trudy. I could not do this without God and I do see His blessings in my life every day. Praying grace and peace for you!

    1. You are a ray of sunshine at Grace Arbor! My Dad enjoys you so much and I am so grateful that you dedicate yourself to blessing him and others each week. Thank you!

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