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Wednesday, July 12, 2017

A Love So True by Melissa Jagears

Jagears Delivers a Wonderfully Romantic Read with a Hero and Heroine to Cheer For

From Goodreads:

Evelyn Wisely has a heart for the orphans of Teaville and works at a local mansion that rescues children out of the town's red-light district and gives them a place to live. But her desire to help isn't limited to orphans. The owner of the mansion, Nicholas Lowe, is willing to help her try to get the women working in prostitution out of the district as well--if she can gain the cooperation and support of local businessmen to go against the rest of the community. 

David Kingsman has recently arrived in Teaville from Kansas City to help with one of his father's companies in town. While he plans on staying only long enough to prove his business merit to his father, he's shown interest in Evelyn's work and is intrigued enough by her to lend his support to her cause. 
They begin with the best of intentions, but soon the complications pile up and Evelyn and David's dreams look more unattainable every day. When the revelation of a long-held secret creates a seemingly insurmountable rift between them, can they trust God still has a good plan for them despite all that is stacked against them? 


Cafe Lily's Review:

I did not read the first book in this series, but the second book stood alone very well. I actually didn't realize this was part of a series, until I was well into A Love So True.

I enjoyed the storyline and characters, and as always, I am a huge fan of historical fiction. Make sure you read the author's note in the back of the book, regarding baby Hope.  I liked that the author researched her subject matter well, and knew what to include or leave out, based on the time period she was writing about.



Thursday, June 22, 2017

The Birthday Gift - Precious Memories 24



I woke up that birthday morning, with mixed emotions.

My heart was heavy, yet I knew it was time. I knew in my heart, this would be the last birthday I would have with my mother still present here on Earth.

Time was drawing near, and I could sense that the thin veil separating her from her eternal home, was slowly beginning to pull back. She had become quieter, and was sleeping more. Most of my visits now, were sitting at her bedside, watching her sleep. I attempted to keep up my rigid routine, and be with her every waking moment. I was losing sleep, as she slept the days away. I was so afraid I wouldn’t be with her when the time came.

At one point, barely able to stand up straight and keep my eyes open, a nurse I had built rapport with took me by the shoulders and brought her face close to mine, staring straight into my glazed eyes. 

She gently whispered, “Go home. We will call you if there is any change. I get why you want to be here, but please, go home.”

And then she held me as I wept. I was so tired. I wanted the suffering to be over, but I wasn’t ready to let go.

However, I took her advice and I went home.

So when I woke up that birthday morning, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself.  My mom had always been half of my birthday celebration. It was our tradition. I knew she would want me to go out and do something, yet I felt guilty.

 How could I go celebrate?   I wasn’t in the mood for cheesecake. 

What I wanted and needed for my birthday, wasn’t going to happen. I wanted her healed, in her right mind, and to stick around awhile longer. I wanted a miracle.

I didn’t stay away long. I made a quick trip to the store, to appease my worried husband who was deeply concerned for my health and well-being. He wanted me to get away and just breathe, but I wasn’t feeling it.

I couldn’t shop and celebrate anything. I wasn’t in the mood.

When I arrived back in my mom’s room that afternoon, the hospice Chaplain was there. She had been reading the Bible out loud, and my mom rested peacefully in her bed. Soft hymns were playing, via the Chaplain’s iPod which was near my mom’s pillow so she could hear it. There was a tangible presence in that room, I could feel the peace and calm as I walked in. I gently sat next to my mom’s bed in my normal spot, and that is when she opened her eyes. She turned her head towards me and smiled. It was the first time her pretty blue eyes had met mine, in days. I looked at the Chaplain who smiled at me and said, “She’s awake.”

My mom raised her arm up, beckoning me to her. I switched to the other side of her bed and sat gently so as not to hurt her. She stroked my arm, smiling and nodding her head yes. I looked at the Chaplain again, who smiled and said, “She seems very coherent right now.”

I leaned over my mom, bringing my face closer to hers, and said, “Mom, you know who I am today?” She smiled and said, “My baby.”

I lost it. 

The Chaplain, who was a little stunned, said, “It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak, and that was clear as a bell.”

I needed a moment to compose myself, I was choking on my tears. My mom continued to rub my arm, and pulled me down closer for a hug. I hugged her as best as I could with her in bed, and she began to take her hands and play with my hair. She had always messed around with my curls in my younger days. She rubbed my hair, stroked my arm, and when I told her I loved her, she said, “I love you too.”  Clear as a bell.

The Chaplain and I just looked at each other, more than a little stunned.

And then the Chaplain said, “This is a moment of clarity you have been given. It is a gift. Embrace it and enjoy it.”

She stayed in the room taking notes, but allowing us to have this moment. As my tears soaked the bedspread, my mom smiled and called me “the baby” several times. I am her youngest and she often referred to me as such, when I was growing up. To hear her use the term, and have her recognize me, was almost more than I could take.

When I finally gained some composure, I said, “Mom it’s my birthday today. You know how old I am?” She smiled and shook her head no, waiting for me to go on. When I told her just how old I was that day, she opened her eyes big and wide as if surprised and made a big “OHHHH” with her mouth.

We all laughed and she smiled at me with a twinkle in her eye.

For the last time, we were sharing my birthday, smiling and laughing, and I felt her mother’s love radiating through me.

It was the perfect gift.

  *The Precious Memories posts you read here, are dedicated to my mother who battled Alzheimer's. I share snippets of our story, and some things I learned along the way.  


You can start reading our story from the beginning here:
Precious Memories 1 


You can read my last Precious Memories post here:
Stand By Me - Precious Memories 23

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Going Purple - Alzheimer's Awareness Month



June is Alzheimer's Awareness month.

Last year when I went "purple"  I wrote about the signs and warnings that I began noticing, regarding my Mom's battle.

During the month of June, many will share their story.   But the truth is, the awareness of this disease is every day for those of us affected by it.  

Every minute, every moment, every waking hour...we are painfully aware.

Not one day goes by that I don't think about my mom.

According to the Alzheimer's Association, who has many wonderful resources on their website:

 Alzheimer’s is fatal. It kills more than breast and prostate cancer combined. 

• Alzheimer’s is not normal aging. It’s a progressive brain disease without any cure. 

• Alzheimer’s is more than memory loss. It appears through a variety of signs and symptoms. 

During the month of June, the Alzheimer’s Association asks you to learn more about Alzheimer’s, share your story and take action.


Monday, May 29, 2017

Stand By Me - Precious Memories 23



It all started with this post.

A year ago, Memorial Day weekend, I began sharing my personal experience with Alzheimer's.

Maybe you are here, right now reading through some of my posts as you stand by feeling helpless. Maybe you are watching friends or family members wear themselves out, as they cope with a diagnosis (dementia or otherwise).

Maybe you are the weary one.

Whether they care for a loved one at home, or have the help of a facility, they still need your support.

I was completely unprepared for the level of exhaustion that came with my mom's diagnosis. I was worn out mentally, emotionally, and physically.  Decisions had to be made daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  Care plans readjusted.  Doctors and staff meetings, bills paid.....all while my heart was shattering.

Time for me in a sense stopped.  I was still trying to maintain an emotional connection with her. I struggled to balance the chaotic details that came as part of this disease.  Stanford University once reported that 41% of Alzheimer's disease caregivers die from stress-related disorders, before the patient dies.

Caregivers have a 63% higher mortality rate than non-caregivers.   This is serious business.

There are all kinds of websites that show various statistics for caregivers, and most are startling.   They need someone to stand by them. It is a lonely road.  You not only lose your loved one, but you lose your sense of normal.  Your social life takes a hit, because you become so engrossed with care. It's easy to feel isolated and forgotten.

Receiving a "thinking of you" card or a quick email, letting me know that I was still in someone's prayers, or on their mind, was such an encouragement to me.  One of my sweet friends in another state, sent me a Starbucks gift card, just so I could grab a cup of coffee.  Having a little something out of the ordinary to look forward to, made a difference.

Because most days, what you are facing in the future is nothing to look forward to.

If you find yourself able and willing, please offer as much support as you can.  You would be amazed at how much a healthy, home cooked meal would be appreciated.  Families in a situation like this, tend to neglect their own needs. I barely had time to make a grocery list, much less cook a decent meal. All of my spare time and energy, was devoted to my mom and her well being. I was working full time, caring for a spouse who at that time wasn't yet properly diagnosed, and then there was Alzheimer's.

If you want to help but are short on ideas - I have a few for you.  Offer to clean the house, or pay for a trustworthy cleaning service. Offer to mow the lawn, pick up the mail or newspaper, shovel the snow, fill up a gas tank, take the car for an oil change. Walk the pets, take them to the groomer. If small children are a consideration, offer to shuttle them to school or activities. Take the kids to the park.

I'm not suggesting that you personally PAY for these errands - but just offer to run them. Pick up take out if you don't cook or give a gift card so the family can order in.

The point is, just offer.  Even if you get turned down, I assure you, the fact that you offered means a lot. There are so many little things that become big things for us, when we are spending every spare moment with our loved one.

Most of all, just love us and please remember to not be offended if we are no longer "fun".

We are grieving.

We are focused on saying goodbye.

We don't mean to be self-absorbed but we are living a nightmare.

We are processing and trying to wrap our brain around what is taking place.

We are tired and overwhelmed.  We are numb.

We are sad and angry at the same time.

We are hurting.

We simply need you to remember us.


  *The Precious Memories posts you read here, are dedicated to my mother who battled Alzheimer's. I share snippets of our story, and some things I learned along the way.  


You can start reading our story from the beginning here:
Precious Memories 1 


You can read my last Precious Memories post here:
Thinking Back On Mother's Day - Precious Memories 22

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Thinking Back On Mother's Day -Precious Memories 22


“For we think back through our mothers 
if we are women.” 
                                                                                              Virginia Woolf 



I want to roll back the clock, and be a little girl again, running in and out of the sheets snapping and waving on the clothesline. Laying in my bed, I want to hear the Star Spangled Banner on her radio, as she starts her day. I want to smell fresh perked coffee and hear her clanking dishes in the sink. I want to smell roast in the slow cooker on Sunday.

I want to sit across from her at lunch, laughing and talking. I want her to hug me, and leave her soft clean scent swirling around me. I want her to eat her fair share of the cheesecake.

But if you’ve lived any length of time, you have learned the same as I have. Life doesn’t give us our wants most of the time.

My mom has been in Heaven for some time, and I am “the mother” my family focuses on now for Mother’s Day.

And yes, I’ve been a mom for awhile now but for so long, Mother’s Day (for me) was to focus on her. She was the matriarch of our family, and held the place of honor.

Celebrating Mother’s Day without a mom, has felt out of sorts for me. I am adapting, slowly. I have had to realize that I am for my son what my mom was for me - the focus of Mother’s Day. I have taken her place in the family line. It is sobering.

My mother received a variety of gifts for Mother’s Day, but mostly crumpled, crushed dandelions, freshly picked and delivered by the sweaty hand of a proud, smiling child. She exclaimed over those pitiful weeds as if I had brought her the finest bouquet. I fondly remember the yellow streaks they left on my hands. She would laugh and call it “butter.” She displayed them proudly in a glass, perched in the kitchen windowsill. She kept them long after they had wilted and dried, evidence of simple, child-like love. My colored pictures haphazardly torn out of the coloring book, with jagged edges, were treated like works of art rivaling Picasso and Monet. The homemade cards, made from thick construction paper, were lovingly stored away amongst her most treasured valuables.

Later, my gift to her was time and it was my favorite. Our lunch dates were where I really got to know my mom. Our conversations revealed what made her tick. I learned her likes, her worries, her fears, what she was like growing up. I learned what angered her and made her sad. I discovered the causes she championed and what a fierce advocate for the “underdog” she could be. She became more than an authority figure in my eyes. We became close friends.

I am carrying on this tradition with my son. Lunch dates to him right now are about fun and food, and we have a great time. But I know the deep foundation these conversations will lay. I try to pass along to him the lessons I have learned, and what my mother shared with me. We have decided to have a “Christmas in July” outing where we will splurge on ourselves, eat, talk, and shop. This will most likely result in browsing many sports related retail stores.

But I don’t mind.

He’s grown up now and I know that it is likely I won’t have these lunch dates for long. Another woman may steal his heart at some point, and I will let him go. I want him to be happy and like my mom did with me, I will encourage him to pursue his dreams. I will try not to interfere with his choices, but gently wait aside, quietly here if he needs me.

Just like she did with me.



"No one worries about you like your mother, and when she is gone, the world seems unsafe, things that happen unwieldy. You cannot turn to her anymore, and it changes your life forever. 
There is no one on earth who knew you from the day you were born; who knew why you cried, or when you'd had enough food; who knew exactly what to say when you were hurting; and who encouraged you to grow a good heart. 
When that layer goes, whatever is left of your childhood goes with her." 
―Adriana Trigiani, Big Stone Gap 


  *The Precious Memories posts you read here, are dedicated to my mother who battled Alzheimer's. I share snippets of our story, and some things I learned along the way.  


You can start reading our story from the beginning here:
Precious Memories 1 

You can read my last Precious Memories post here:
Somebody's Hero - Precious Memories 21

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Before We Were Yours - Lisa Wingate

Two families, generations apart, are forever changed by a heartbreaking injustice in this poignant novel, inspired by a true story, for readers of Orphan Train and The Nightingale.

Memphis, 1939. Twelve-year-old Rill Foss and her four younger siblings live a magical life aboard their family’s Mississippi River shantyboat. But when their father must rush their mother to the hospital one stormy night, Rill is left in charge—until strangers arrive in force. Wrenched from all that is familiar and thrown into a Tennessee Children’s Home Society orphanage, the Foss children are assured that they will soon be returned to their parents—but they quickly realize that the truth is much darker.

At the mercy of the facility’s cruel director, Rill fights to keep her sisters and brother together—in a world of danger and uncertainty. Aiken, South Carolina, present day. Born into wealth and privilege, Avery Stafford seems to have it all: a successful career as a federal prosecutor, a handsome fiancĂ©, and a lavish wedding on the horizon. But when Avery returns home to help her father weather a health crisis, a chance encounter leaves her with uncomfortable questions—and compels her to take a journey through her family's long-hidden history, on a path that will ultimately lead either to devastation . . . or redemption.

Based on one of America’s most notorious real-life scandals—in which Georgia Tann, director of a Memphis-based adoption organization, kidnapped and sold poor children to wealthy families all over the country—Wingate’s riveting, wrenching, and ultimately uplifting tale reminds us how, even though the paths we take can lead to many places, the heart never forgets where we belong.


Cafe Lily's Review:

Prior to reading this, I knew nothing about Georgia Tann or the horrific acts she carried out.  I had never heard about this part of history, or the Tennessee Children's Home.  

In some ways, I wish I had kept my innocence, because this woman was one of the most evil, heartless, sinister characters I have ever read about.  I had to read this in small doses, because my heart hurt. I just ached, and had to put it down at times.

I felt sad and emotional, almost at times unable to digest and comprehend what these families and mothers were being put through.

I am a huge fan of historical fiction, and this book was very well written. Though the subject matter is hard and heartbreaking, the book flowed easily.  This book will stay with you, long after the last page is turned.  

I highly suggest you read this one when it releases in June!


 

Monday, May 1, 2017

The Chapel Car Bride - Judith Miller


About the Book:
Hope Irvine always sees the best in people. While traveling on the rails with her missionary father, she attracts the attention of a miner named Luke and a young mine manager. When Luke begins to suspect the manager is using Hope's missions of mercy as a cover for illegal activities, can he discover the truth without putting her in danger?

Cafe Lily's Review:

I had mixed feelings when I finished this book.  I have mentioned my love for historical fiction many times in other reviews I've posted here, but this book was kind of all over the place for me.  Historical fiction is one of my favorite genres to read, but this book disappointed me.

I had a hard time becoming engaged with the characters.  While the book had a lot of potential, the writing seemed to graze the surface of many issues and involve too many plots all going at once. There was some slow build up and repetition which made the book feel like it was dragging. And then, all of a sudden, the ending of the book just felt abrupt and rushed to me.

I could not find a happy medium while reading this.  It was either too slow and drawn out, or suddenly over.  I did enjoy discovering some of the history of chapel cars, and prior to reading this, I didn't know much about them.  I thought the cover was beautiful and well done, it captured my interest and made me want to read this book.

I think in this case, each reader will have to decide for themselves.