Today I found myself thinking about the small church I attended as a child in Montana. I’m deeply grateful for that place and the memories it holds.
As I pictured the wooden pews and hymnals, I remembered that I once included photos of the church in an old blog post. I just found it. Several readers have asked to see some of the posts I wrote about my mom, who is now in glory, and her journey with dementia.
If you’d like to read that tribute, here is one chapter of our story. I’m glad I recorded it—there were details I had already forgotten.
Originally published July 29, 2011
Last week I packed a carry-on and flew to Montana to visit family. I arrived back home last night, feeling renewed by the visit. For the sake of memory, I’m sharing some highlights from the trip. If you prefer just the photos, feel free to skip through, but I’ve written this out for myself and for anyone interested in family, travel, and care for a loved one with dementia.
The first leg of my trip was through Cranbrook, BC. Unbeknownst to me, the Cranbrook Air Show was happening that day. As our plane approached the airport, the captain announced, “You will see the airport below you on the right. However, the Snowbirds are currently performing, so we will need to circle until landing clearance is given.”
Thirty-five minutes of unusual turbulence followed. It wasn’t terrifying, but the sudden drops made my stomach flip. I relieved my nerves by fishing out the airsick bag—hilariously, it was sealed in a plastic sleeve, as if one should plan ahead for motion sickness. Thankfully I didn’t need it. When I stepped off the plane, two of my favorite people were waiting: my sisters.
(me, Susan, and Becky)
We drove together for two days back to our hometown, with a major shopping stop along the way. Between the three of us we have eight children—only one girl—and the boys are not shoppers, so this trip was a big event. If shopping were an Olympic sport for stamina and determination, Susan would win hands down. She finds what you need, with accessories, and usually on sale.
A few practical notes from the trip:
- I found the perfect budget lunch at Arby’s: a Jr. Roast Beef with a side salad for just $2.68. Small savings can add up on the road.
- Restaurants in town stay open late, so it’s possible to shop until the mall closes at 9 p.m. and still have a ham-and-cheese omelette at 10 p.m.
- In addition to the items I mentioned packing in my carry-on on a previous post, I also brought two pairs of capris, three shirts, two shirts for my husband, a pair of sandals, three bags of Montana Coffee Trader beans, and a wooden vase. Be grateful for the wheels on your carry-on.
***
On Sunday I attended the little church I’ve known since birth. Looking at the stained and varnished boards at the front—I used to count them when the sermon bored me—brought a lump to my throat. That sanctuary carries echoes of so many milestones:
~ It’s where I first heard about Jesus, and where Stella Cox taught me how to sing “Heavenly Sunshine” in Japanese.
~ It’s where I married the man I love.
~ It’s where I said goodbye to my dad and where pews that were once full are now occupied by saints in glory.
That morning felt especially blessed: without any planning, a reunion of faces from my past filled the pews. Seeing old friends after many years was a gift I hadn’t expected.
***
After church (and my favorite burger from the Wibaux Tastee Hut), we went to visit the person who was the real reason for the trip—Mom.
Describing a vibrant, talkative, joyful mother becoming a person with dementia is difficult and heartbreaking. I went with no expectations, hoping to notice small blessings. Her spoken answers were fewer than in spring, and at times I wasn’t sure she recognized me. Those losses brought many tears.
Still, there were luminous moments. While looking through photo albums she could sometimes answer “Who is that?” and, to our surprise, she could point to and name each family member except herself. At one point she spoke a clear, contextual sentence that stunned us with its normalcy—it was a brief, beautiful glimpse of the woman she used to be.
Her knitting days are over. In jest I said perhaps my sister-in-law Lorrie could teach me to knit. My attempt produced laughter from Mom, and that laugh—familiar and warm—was itself a blessing.
We squeezed in a small photo session. When we wrapped our arms around her, she smiled. It was a beautiful, quiet moment.
(Mom and my sister Becky)
My most indelible memory from that visit happened while we were saying goodbye. Mom had walked with us to the front desk of the care home when a woman with a walker asked for someone to walk her back so she wouldn’t be scared. Without speaking, Mom turned and began walking down the hall. The woman followed. Two women with faltering minds—silently helping one another. Becky followed to see what would happen. Mom gently settled her in, they looked at each other in silence, and when Becky asked if Mom wanted to go to her room, Mom said, “Yes,” and walked off. That scene—kindness in a quiet, ordinary moment—felt profoundly beautiful and fitting. Mom has always cared for others; she still does.
***
(The view from my childhood bedroom window: “The Big Hill”)
I stayed in the 100-year-old farmhouse where I grew up. My sister-in-law has restored much of its original charm; she’s decorated it beautifully, and it felt like home. Time slipped past us as we enjoyed coffee, pizza lunches, and long conversations with Lorrie and Richard. Their hospitality warmed my heart—thank you, Lorrie and Richard.
On the drive home God gave me a Montana sunset I won’t forget.
Ultimately, the best part of the trip wasn’t the scenery or the attractions; it was the people—family and friends—blessings beyond words. One evening we stood beneath the Montana sky and pointed out the Big Dipper. I loved knowing that my family, though thousands of miles away, looks at the same stars I do. That shared sky comforts me and makes the distance feel smaller.
***
I returned home feeling both bittersweet and grateful. I miss my childhood home and the family in Montana, but I’m glad to be back with my own family here. This morning I even got breakfast in bed—so it’s nice to be missed.