Mike Paschall . com

It seems that every two or three years I post something about our moving again. The reason that I do that is because every two or three years we move again. Blink-blink.

I think we can honestly say that it’s never premeditated. It mostly happens because we’re responding to some opportunity or some impression of what appears to be a season change. Moving to Waco in November 2013 was bittersweet. We left a community of people who had previously rocked our world. It was hardcore and spiritually intense. We had forged deep relationships with honorable and loving people. Not everything there was up to that standard, but leaving Georgia wasn’t easy. Yet, there was a sense that family needed to be the focus for the next season—and that was especially true for Patti. So we moved.

The last two and a half years in Waco have been anything but boring. We came not knowing much more than Patti needed to seize time with her mom (the Martha we had always known) while there was still opportunity to do so. Within weeks of being here, it was obvious that the decline was definitely happening every day. What was to be a casual check-in a couple of times a week, became and 24-7 care concern almost immediately.

Early on, our evenings consisted of wine, cheese, crackers, and a lot of teary debriefs. Az (Alzheimer’s, dementia, you name it) was kicking our family’s butt. We had no idea what we had signed up for. Dementia was making more trouble than we had foreseen. So, we started reading and studying. A brutal topic, but it had to be done.

I still marvel that I got to witness firsthand how a daughter responded to her mother’s need. Lots of people pull on Patti’s life and I can honestly say that she gives and loves as well as anyone I’ve ever known, but in this situation with her mom, it’s been something more than just taking care of mom. Patti dived in deeper with the woman who had always been there for her. She wanted to connect and give security when Martha’s reality window of the familiar was closing. My words will never accomplish the true justice of what this season was like. “Horribly glorious” is about the best I can convey with words. It has truly been a privilege to witness. I’m convinced that my girl is a bad ass.

(I certainly realize that Patti is not the only person that has signed up for such duty.  If you’ll look around, there are people giving themselves away for the sake of a parent or a child or a mate everywhere. The fact that humanity is still willing to do that is a good thing. I genuinely think it’s part of His image shining through us. The ancient rites of family.)

It was hard as hell, but it was also tender, sweet, and precious—still is. Now that Martha is in a memory care facility, the efforts to connect are still important. Patti goes everyday to visit with her mom. Yes, her mother appears to be content and safe in that environment, yet Patti has become another source of light to more than just her mother. Workers, aides, residents and staff all pull from the radiance that she carries. Loving on Martha is the primary motivation, but you know Patti can’t help herself as so many others are in such close proximity. Everyone gets a touch. It’s an amazing gift to behold.

So, one week from today, we will put our stuff in a Penske truck and drive the 850 miles to Colorado Springs, Colorado. For the third time, that is where we will lay our heads.

Much like the other 27 moves, there is no way to really know what is ahead. Departing here to live there does pull on our hearts in many ways. Leaving our moms again is hurtful. Martha is unaware, but a part of Patti’s life and ministry stays here. Not seeing her mom everyday is going to leave a huge vacuum. Regularly touching her mom has brought a lot of joy and happiness to my girl. Seeing her mom’s smile when she walks in everyday is righteous love. That is going to be a massive void for them both.

My mom is healthy, alert, and doing her own thing. I suspect we’ll still spend lots of time together. She loves Colorado, and of course her people who reside there. I’ll miss the ability to pop in on my brother and sister on a whim. We’ll miss a lot of our spiritual kids who are still hurting from grief and loss. Being near Jimmy and Lorna is about the only thing we can actually do for them. Yes, it’s still really hard. Thank you for your continued prayers.

Longtime garden friends, who know our story and get how we roll, understand this move. Their supportive affirmation is helpful. We agree with the Beatles: We get by with a little help from our friends! Thank you so much!

I suspect that the bulk of our friends here in Central Texas won’t even know we’re gone. We’ll be in and out of here on a fairly regular basis. With the moms and family here, we’ll be around.

Besides, I’ll have to in the winter. The white stuff freaks me out. (Help me Jesus!)

Come see us!

Love you all,

Mike  xo

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