"Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn't come from a store." - Dr. Seuss

Sorry to have missed posting for a couple of days. Things have been a bit complicated since we left Baker Rd. at 4:15 a.m. Friday.

Just past the halfway point on the drive to Seattle my brother called to say mom was being admitted to the hospital with a significant case of congestive heart failure. She's struggled with that problem for a couple of years and it has grown progressively worse, requiring increasing doses of a diuretic. It seems that even her current mega-dose didn't work and hospitalization for a few days is required. So here it is Christmas Eve and her 95th birthday and she lays in a hospital bed getting regular injections of a diuretic.

Apart from a cough that causes concern and the expected swelling in her legs you'd never know there was a problem. She's as alert and aware as ever, and that at a level remarkable for anyone 20 years her junior. So we're cautiously optimistic that she'll be back at their independent living unit soon.

Meanwhile, dad is still in the rehab unit of that center recovering from repair to the hip he broke in a fall. He's making progress and can now walk up and down the hall with the aid of a walker and a physical therapist ready to assist if necessary. It's hard not to wonder if he'll ever recover the strength and mobility that ... deserted him causing him to fall in the first place.
(Not that this was the first fall! Just the first one that broke a hip.)

So we're all talking about what comes next. The most likely scenario seems like some level of home health care - someone who comes in on a regular basis to help with daily living chores that are indeed chores when you're 95 years old.

The "we're all talking" part includes the folks, obviously. But the three sons and their wives (who are treated and feel like daughters) are doing our best to move the discussion along at an appropriate clip. Finding the balance between looking out for parents' well-being and respecting their dignity and right to self-determination can be a difficult task.

With the folks constrained by their respective confinements - hospital and rehab center - the six of us kids are enjoying time together. Dinner each evening is a time to catch up, compare, and engage in the banter that defines what it means to be a MacDonald.

Later this morning we'll go to Berean for the Christmas worship service. I'm looking forward to being back in the church I was raised in and seeing people I count as important to my spiritual upbringing and contemporaries from back in the day.
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It's hard not to think modern medicine is a mixed blessing. Not everything that can be done should be done, but how do you say no to life-saving measures when they're so readily available and easily administered? We may agree that quality of life is an important consideration, but its loss usually comes so gradually that identifying the line and when it's crossed seems almost impossible. Add in familial love, marital love, and differing perspectives and decisions are beyond reach.

For the spiritually mature believer the next life is our goal and blessing. We also see this life as a stewardship and not something to be casually thrown off. Suicide, active or passive, assisted or not, is a challenge to God's goodness and grace.

Lord, give us wisdom.