My Little Boy Blue

It feels like I have no purpose.

I can’t write when the ideas climb inside my head. Insread of taking root so that I can grasp them, holding them captive in hopes of putting them thought to pen to paper, they disappear like the dead leaves that lay on the ground, crisp, full of beauty, and blown away by the first good gust of wind that blows through my mind.

Which happens more than I’d like.

Frustrating.

About the time my meds kick in to where my fingers will obey ME and not the dopamine deficient brain inside of my head, something distracts me, vies for my attention, insisting it’s importance and shoves any previous thoughts aside, to wait for another aforementioned gust of wind.

After the wind dies down and I remember I was telling myself I have no purpose, the back door opens to sounds of a little boy in rubber boots and a boy-blue raincoat. And he’s ready to go play. And jump in puddles. And make brownies. And clean the shower with his own spray bottle. And have a stuffed animal pillow fight. And go looking for acorns and watch the squirrel take the ones we leave for him atop the fence. And ‘Hi-Yah’ plastic bucket towers. And watch Agent Oso.

And suddenly I realize just how much purpose I have. And somehow, I am able to do it – care for this little grandson of mine – with or without this little monster that lurks inside that strives to insist that no one wants to bother with me anymore for I can be just that – a bother, a burden.

I can’t do this and I can’t do that and it’s…

Frustrating.

So very frustrating.

I must repeat words. Constantly.
I must go slow. With everything.

Or so it seems.

I can’t busy myself with many wonderful chores or talents or projects that friends still do that I no longer can. But you know what?

It’s okay. Those things are no longer my purpose. And while sometimes I vie for the moments of painting again and leading children’s choirs and women’s groups, driving on field trips, teaching Bible studies and more, I do have a purpose. A most wonderful purpose.

That little boy in blue.

Parkinson’s Journey Fight Song

I’ve always loved music. I played in bands since third grade, all through high school and some in college. I’ve been in choirs since middle school and participated in duets, trios, quartets, and small groups and worship groups. With Parkinson’s, I now have my own unique vibrato and decided it best (for the sake of others) to give up musical ambitions.

Since PD, I’ve always wanted a unique, official anthem, so to speak. A fight song.

I found it.

Move”, by Toby Mac. (Click on title to hear the song as you read the words below.)

Another heartbreak day
Feels like you’re miles away
Don’t even need no shade
When your sun don’t shine, shine
Too many passin’ dreams
Roll by like limousines
It’s hard to keep believin’
When they pass you by and by
I know your heart ’s been broke again
I know your prayers ain’t been answered yet
I know you’re feeling like you got nothing left
Well, lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet so


Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
Move, keep walkin’ until the mornin’ comes
Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
And lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet


Echoin’ inside your head
Are the words that your sweet momma said
“Shoot for the moon, my dear”
So you took aim out of this atmosphere
Between high stakes and pump fakes
You’re feelin’ like you can’t buy a break
I can hold your hand, but I can’t turn your eyes to freedom


I know your heart’s been broke again
I know your prayers ain’t been answered yet
I know you’re feeling like you got nothing left
Well, lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet so
Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
Move, keep walkin’ until the mornin’ comes
Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
And lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet

Hold on, hold on
Lord ain’t finished yet
Hold on, hold on
He’ll get you through this
Hold on, hold on

These are the promises
I never will forget
I never will forget, so
Hold on, hold on
The Lord ain’t finished yet
Hold on, hold on
He’ll get you through this
Hold on, hold on
These are the promises
I never will forget
I never will forget


I know your heart’s been broke again
I know your prayers ain’t been answered yet
But it ain’t over yet, it ain’t over yet
So get up and move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
Move, keep walkin’ until the mornin’ comes
Move, keep .’ soldier keep movin’ on
And lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet
Lift up your head now, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
Lift up your head now keep walkin’ until the mornin’ comes
Keep believin’ keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
And lift your head, it ain’t over yet, it ain’t over yet

PD has a way of breaking you, a way of making you want to let go. But hold on… soldier, keep moving. Lift your head. God’s got this and…

It ain’t over yet.

The Value of Brokenness

you
a fragile
piece
of pottery
knocked over
falling to the floor
that rises to meet you

you pull yourself up
another crack to tend to
another piece of pride to mend

you see the mess
you think
you’ve become
broken pieces
irreparable

you feel
every scab
every scar
every wound

He sees something
different
He sees something
beautiful
in every crack
in every crevice
in every break

you don’t become useless
because you have been broken
you become wiser,
you become stronger,
you become more beautiful

the cracks
that bring a humility
that draw others in
as they witness
a new beauty unfolding

imperfections
are being perfected
weaknesses
are becoming a holy strength
experiences
are bringing a godly wisdom

In Japan they call it Kintsugi
in essence –
the art of bringing more value
to something broken

God calls it
grace

faithful
enduring
steadfast

Grace