Today was windy, and somewhat chilly…and teary. But there was plenty of that sublime Florida sunshine, and we hadn’t walked on the beach in ages. Winter in Florida means there are slightly less people lining the streets to get to the Atlantic. Today was a perfect day to go. Sometimes the best things are the ones we don’t even plan to do.
Mitzi has been very teary lately. We’ve had some hard, sucker-punch conversations when the words don’t get in the way and the clouds in her mind part long enough to let the clarity shine through. I’ve always felt that Alzheimer’s doesn’t really erase things so much as cover them with a thick layer of dust. Sometimes, it’s as if a strong wind blows through the brain and moves the dust off of one thing so you can catch a glimpse of it again. Talking with Mitzi this morning was like someone had dusted. And I was so grateful for the deep conversation. She expressed that she was very sad about the way things are and, for the first time in the two and a half years that I’ve been her sidekick (and she has been mine), she actually said the words, “This is not fair.” Those are hard words to say, and they came out almost as a whisper while the tears spilled over and crawled down her cheeks. I agreed, wholeheartedly that it is not fair, even before she could start backtracking with her words of overwhelming gratitude for her friends and family and how much she has been loved and blessed. She knows God has a purpose in all this. She’s told me that a million times. But she is having a harder time now accepting that she has been “picked” for this particular assignment.
She is one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.
As we walked along the beach in the sunshine, she smiled and laughed more than I’ve seen in weeks. She ran from the waves, and even twirled a time or two. The beach was almost empty, but she absolutely loved watching a little girl in pigtails chase the seagulls into the water and then squeal as the cold waves hit her bare feet.
At one point, Mitzi stopped and looked ahead at the shore. There were footprints in the sand in all directions in front of her. Many times on our beach walks over the years, she has mentioned that story about the man and the footprints in the sand. I would always pull it up on my phone and read it to her. She always cried at the end. It was about a man who had a dream he was walking on the beach with God and they were talking about the man’s life while he could see scenes from it. There were footprints all throughout those scenes; sometimes two sets, sometimes one set. The man questioned God about the times when there was only one set of footprints since the Lord had promised that if the man would follow Him, He would always walk with the man. Yet during the most difficult times in his life, the man only saw one set of footprints. The tearjerker line at the end of the story is when God replies to the man, “My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”
Of course Mitzi (and maybe I, as well), would generally dissolve into tears at that last line. Because we know it to be true.
Today, though, as she stopped there on the shore looking ahead, with footprints surrounding her in all directions, but no people in sight, I had a totally different take on the footprints. I realized that there are so many times when we might feel all alone, but God is making a path in front of us, surrounding us with his army of angels, some seen and some unseen, to walk beside us on our journey. I hope, somehow, as tangible as the warmth was from the sun shining down on us today, that Mitzi could feel the love from all of the footprints in her life…????
