These days Teckla is unable to do much. Reading has become impossible because she can’t keep her place on the page—and increasingly she simply doesn’t remember what the words represent. Conversations have disappeared, even though I still chatter away. Most of what we say is by touch.
Teckla is restless, endlessly puttering around putting things away. All her puttering flows from a heart shaped to love and serve. She will approach me while I am reading; and hand me a book—often a child’s book. Her eyes will be bright and full of love. I don’t always have the heart to tell her I don’t need that book. Sometimes, I just thank her and set book beside me. Sometimes I read a few pages aloud, even though that is not what she wanted.
During a meal, she must be persuaded to eat everything on her plate. She will say, “The kids may be hungry. Maybe you need more.” At the end of a meal, she is quick to take my plate and put it in the sink (or a bookcase).
Sometimes she is moving and displaying the books for aesthetic purposes. Books will appear propped up in chairs so the covers can be seen—sometimes with a stuffed bear or orangutan.
So, I spend part of each day following Teckla as she putters. I take books out of the refrigerator and breadbox. I remove the coasters from inside the Bible and hymnal and put them back on the coffee table.
When I finally find the salt and pepper in bathroom or the book I had been reading in the sock drawer, she will hear my heavy sigh and ask, “Are you okay?” She doesn’t remember my name, but her concern is as deep as the sky.
I found, in prayer, God is not sympathetic to my plight. First, he quietly pointed out that love is the riverbed in which her life flows even now. My riverbed is still being carved out, it seems.
I also complained to God that I tire of undoing what she has just done, thinking she is helping. Immediately, I knew this complaint had stepped in it. So, for my kids and all those who I have tried to help over the years, forgive me. And thank God that He has followed me like I follow Teckla. I hope all my puttering has been half as holy as Teckla’s.
