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  Learning from stray bullets

  Feb 2, 2026

  The proverbial bullet came from nowhere. Ricocheting through my whole body, ripping through the files of my mind, I wondered what on earth happened. I’ve dodged a lot of bullets, but this one got me, and it’s a doozy. Coughing, stomach flu, fever and lightheadedness tried to strip the very life out of me. It drove me to my bed.

  I’ve always considered my mind as a steel trap. I can remember every person’s name, dates, and every scripture reference from Genesis to Revelation.  I thanked the Lord for such a strong memory and a clear mind. But this bullet had the power to destroy.

  There is always a lesson to be learned. The mind is very valuable and vulnerable, and those whose mind is slipping need our compassion and help with ordinary things.

  My daughter Angel said, “Mother, you were talking to someone on the television remote instead of the phone. It wasn’t Siri you were talking to. Your brain has stopped working. Remember it’s red for the right ear. You can’t lose your mind. We need you.”

  I told her I felt my brain flatlining, even smells and taste buds diminished. Nothing computed. Five days later, sparks sliced through the air, brilliant flashes of creativity bounced and skipped in my head. I envisioned books I had written. Tall, shaped books about pine trees, and short, stubby books about dumpy little trees. I asked her, “Did I ever publish books like that?”

  “No, I would have remembered those.”

  “Thank God I wasn’t moved to do something like that.”

  My mind activated again; I drafted an invisible letter to the world. I didn’t sleep all night, too sick to get out of bed and pick up a pencil or go to the computer. I just needed to write. The same few lines went round and round in my head as I wrote to the world.

  The next morning, I thanked the Lord I was too sick to write anything down about everything on my mind. I was getting well, but, in the process, I realized the fragility of the mind. Sanity came back to me before I did something really stupid. I’m thankful for that.

  Yesterday, stopping me in my tracks, was a halt before the next big project on the horizon. Today, it means taking time to enjoy my Sweet Al. I studied him in his recliner and thought about how much he is cherished and how much we must keep him close and safe.

  I told our son his dad is a gift from heaven. He is so precious. He said, “I know. I left home at 17. I didn’t have a relationship with him for 40 years. I came home to take care of him and love him. I’ll do anything he needs.”

  And yes, our son has. He honors him with great respect and now takes care of his dad like a father takes care of a young son.

  People ask me how my Sweet al is. I tell them he is starting to slip a little. He’s slipping from the world, or the world is slipping away from him. Little decisions are too big. More than one thing bumfuzzles him. He says it’s scary when he doesn’t remember where he is. Oh, my gosh, that tears my heart out.

  Today, I have brought life in a little closer. Every minute counts – listening to his stories, filling in names when he tries to explain things around him, always staying one step ahead of him for his safety. I can’t do enough for this precious man I’ve loved and cherished for 66 years.

  Our youngest daughter keeps him young. She takes him to church, his favorite place to go.

  Afterward, it’s a Big Gulp, laughing like two teenagers and discussing silly things.

  I realized why my Sweet Al and our daughter find much enjoyment with each other. They are so much alike. They are both servants for this family. They are gifts from God. They will do anything for any person in this family. They live for family.

  Final brushstroke: So, when these stray bullets come, we need to recognize the lessons. God often has to change the course of our days so we take notice around us. He is teaching me to take care of the minutes and hold on to the moments that will bring comfort later.

   

   

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