God's arms

Some of you may know that I work with adults with developmental disabilities.  At times this can be unbelievably frustrating, sometimes unbearably funny, and sometimes they take my heart beat on it with a meat tenderizer a little and hand it back to me slightly softer and maybe a touch bruised.  This past week has been. . . interesting to say the least.  Three experiences to illustrate.  I have one client, we'll call her Daphne to protect the guilty.  Who hates having her hair done.  Unfortunately, we have to do it twice a day or it winds up in a snarled indistinguishable mess.  So the other day I was doing Daphne's hair and she reached up a couple times to try to swat my hands away.  I calmly pushed her hand down and asked her to keep her hands to herself. (No the irony of this situation is not lost on me.)  Shortly she complied.  After I was all done, I took her into the living room.  A short while later she gestured to me that she wanted a hug.  I bent down to give her one.  Her return hug was extremely tight, I was slightly confused until too late, she slapped me so hard my ears were ringing for about 15 minutes.  Lesson learned.  I'll be cautious from now on.
I arrived at work one day to hear the news that the staff had lost the key to the cleaning closet.  This is a problem because we must have access to that closet at least 5 times per shift.  We have to leave all the cleaning supplies locked up as a safety precaution, but we have to clean as a safety precaution as well.  Needless to say we had to have the key.  The previous staff had searched and searched to no avail.  We searched for at least an hour.  In frustration and desperation, we were talking about where else to look.  Another client we'll call this one Sally,  is a very quiet, busy lady.  She loves to move around of her own will, and she loves to help. Sally came wheeling herself in as we were having this conversation and seemed very interested in what we were saying.  One staff jokingly turned to Sally and said something like: "can I shake you upside down to see if you have the key?"  Of course we would never do this, but the visual image made me laugh.  Especially since Sally is probably 12 inches taller than this particular staff when she stands.  It was quite a laugh imagining Sally trying to hide the key from us. I even wrote a little note "from Sally" to the other staff about how we could search her all we want, and we would never have the key.  Imagine my surprise a few hours later when we found they key. . . in Sally's pocket.
Another client I was walking with the other day.  It had been a bit of a rough afternoon, and walking usually calmed this guy down.  We were chatting about this and that when, out of the blue, he said to me: "What is going to happen to me when I die?"
I was stopped dead in my tracks mentally speaking.  I didn't know this man's religious background.  I didn't know what his parents would have had me say to him.  So I muttered some unintelligible string of syllables while deciding what to tell him, and more importantly, what I could tell him.  Finally I got up my courage and said "I believe that your spirit will go to your Father in Heaven and he will give you a huge hug and say 'Bobby, good job.  Thanks for living the best life you could.' " yes I've changed his name as well, but the point is he gave me a moment in my life when I had to simplify and condense and remember exactly what I believe and express it in a way that a small child could understand and relate to.  I was humbled and reminded that the people I work with are so fragile.  I hope and pray that my Savior is ok with what I've done with one of the least of his.

Micro reminders

My husband has an apparent inability to shut the front door when we leave the house.  You might think that this would bother me. . .  You would be wrong.  For some strange reason, when I come home and my front door is cracked slightly, I suddenly feel a nearly overwhelming love for this man who now shares my life, my home and my front door.  (And luckily my utility bill. )  I come home to an empty house, but that door left open a tiny crack is like a little reminder that I have someone in my life who loves me and wants to take care of me.  One other sweet reminder,  He types in Dvorak.  I can't type in Dvorak, but he hates typing in Qwerty.  My computer is on the fritz, and therefore, he has graciously given me the passwords to his computer, and thereby, his entire life.  Nearly every time I pick up his computer and go to type, it comes out looking like this:  oyay.m.byo ap. ,rbe.pugnv  I often get that far before I realize the keys are set in Dvorak, and I have to erase everything, change the keyboard back, and start over.  I just have to smile because there is someone who loves and trusts me enough to give me free access to his computer, his life, his microcosm, and he doesn't even get irritated when I forget to change it back. 

Green Leaves

Today I was driving to the store and I passed a huge tree.  Most of the leaves on this  tree were green.  This is unusual because I live in Utah, and it's November.  As I drove past, I noticed something else unusual, these beautiful green leaves were dancing out of the tree.  They fluttered to the ground like wisps of emerald paper thrown one by one out a skyscraper window.  The road and grass under the tree were littered with these seemingly healthy looking leaves.  It was beautiful and somewhat discombobulating all at the same time.  I pondered how something could seem so unprepared for the changes coming, and yet, it's more ready than we realize.  People are the same way.  At least I am in my life.  I see changes coming and I think to myself, " uh oh. . . I'm not ready for this!"  Only to get out on the other side and realize that I was perfectly prepared.  In fact, if i had waited any longer, the opportunity would have been lost.  So. . . Here's to ditching the green leaves of our lives when we need to.