What will He do next?

I don't know about you, but I have this really bad but maybe-it's-only-human habit of trying to figure out what God is doing.

Especially when things don't make sense to me.

Especially when I don't like what's happening.

Especially when I see "God things" happening around me.

Especially when what I had come to believe becomes a question mark in my mind.

When I wrote A Verdict is In, I purposely said "A" not "The." And I asked you to interpret for yourself all of the information my family and I had been given about my mother's condition. (Not to mention my dad. His progress remains to be seen, for sure.)

I'm a big believer in science, because science offers proof. Research provides results in which we can make educated decisions. Science is a good thing. In fact, God created science; God created scientists. God and science are not in conflict with one another — not in my opinion. Heck, God uses science, i.e., medicine and doctors, to perform HIS miracles. God and science work together.

I believe everything the doctors are saying about my mother's condition and prognosis. They are giving me information based on research and vast experience. I respect that completely.

But I also believe God has written and is directing this film, so I don't know all the twists and turns along the way, nor do I know or can I even predict, how this story will end.  God knows I'm trying, much like I do when I'm watching movies, but this endeavor is in vain. I might as well give it up.

Still, I can't help myself. I continue to watch intently and to participate as one of this film's actors.

Here's why:

I saw and heard the science of my mother's condition. I shared it with you. I have even watched her seem to digress in certain areas. In fact, we have made future living arrangement decisions based on science.

Then ... then Mom gets adjusted to long-term care. She seems to be settling into her environment. She even likes the three women we've hired to care for her. It's been a WHOLE WEEK since she's been angry or delusional about our intentions with her.  She's become slightly easier. We've fallen into a routine that seems to work for her. She appears to be trusting that we aren't leaving her and that we will be there for her, every day.

(Okay, okay ... We'll see what happens next week. <sigh>)

When insurance booted Mom out the rehabilitative therapy door because she wasn't making enough progress quickly enough (In other words, they make up rules that give them excuses to not have to pay for care.), Dad refused to give up; he hired Tawny and is paying her without the aid of insurance.

Kim and I went along with hiring Tawny because my dad has desperately needed to hold onto hope. He had been drowning in sorrow and depression. His pain was killing my sister and me just as much as my mother's prognosis. I'm telling you, my dad has not heard (or accepted, maybe) one word of what the doctors have told us. Not one.

So, Tawny has been with us for two weeks now. She comes four times a week for one hour at a time and works with Mom in her room. She's not allowed for liability reasons to use the facility's therapy gym.

Tawny is a FIRECRACKER. Love that lady! So does my mom.

I'm beginning to believe, based on how Mom is responding to Tawny and therapy, and even the massage therapy I've been giving her, that she just might learn to transfer herself. (Transfer is the language used by caregivers to move a patient from bed to wheelchair, etc.)

Her certified nurses' aids at the facility have noted that she is standing on her own strength on her right leg; her left is helping a tiny bit.  We see it. And we see her core muscles gaining strength so that she can sit up for longer and longer periods of time.

Dare I even entertain the hope that she might become more mobile? Am I setting myself up for a major crash?

I don't know. But ... should I even say this?

I think I'm willing to crash, just to hold onto this hope and see my dad's spirits rise. Hope makes him spiritually, mentally and physically better. Hope keeps us going.

And love makes us hope.

Then, there is faith. We have faith that God and all the prayers offered up on my parents' behalf can alter the scientific prognosis of this story.

Only God knows, and I am watching.