Crabgrass
My Dad was energetic and otherwise the picture of health when, at the age of 59, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. He kept the news just between him and my mom for a while, mostly because he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas. No one noticed that he kept his left hand in his pocket the whole visit to hide the emerging tremor.
When he did tell us, it hit with a bit of a shockwave, a numbness cultivated by denial and ignorance. I was barely in my 30’s and had no inkling of the devastating ramifications he was facing.
Dad’s ways of coping with the diagnosis were… unique. Dad made up a whole series of Parkinson’s jokes that made us honestly confused about whether we should laugh or cringe.
The other thing Dad developed was a perspective. With such a weighty diagnosis, he came to view every other trial in his life as a mere irritation, something he could choose to simply shrug off, a temporal and inconsequential nothing.
My Dad was otherwise the picture of health when, at the age of 59, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. When he told us, it hit with a shockwave, a numbness cultivated by denial and ignorance. I was barely in my 30’s and had no inkling of the devastating ramifications he was facing. Dad’s ways of coping with the diagnosis were… unique. Come read how Dad coped, from the odd to the brilliant.
He called these problems that paled in comparison to Parkinson’s, “Crabgrass.” He taught us that it would spoil the whole lawn to give too much emotional energy to being upset about things that just needed to be dealt with.
There would be car trouble. “Crabgrass,” he’d say with a curled lip and a dismissive shake of his head.
His eyes developed cataracts. “Crabgrass.”
He couldn’t eat certain foods that interfered with his myriad of meds. “Crabgrass.”
Money was tight? Recurring nose bleeds? Difficult people? “Crabgrass.”
Dad taught us all to force our perspective to take in a wider view, a more complete picture of what is truly important. He taught us that everything doesn’t have to bring us down. We can actually rejoice in the smallness of our trials! We can keep our joy when this broken-down world seems to just keep piling on problems.
My Dad was otherwise the picture of health when, at the age of 59, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. When he told us, it hit with a shockwave, a numbness cultivated by denial and ignorance. I was barely in my 30’s and had no inkling of the devastating ramifications he was facing. Dad’s ways of coping with the diagnosis were… unique. Come read how Dad coped, from the odd to the brilliant.
There are so many things that we allow to steal our joy that really aren’t worth it. We could live much fuller lives if we are willing to look some of the difficult, yet not insurmountable, challenges in the face and shrug them off.
2018 through the present have been the roughest years for our family. They’ve also been years that have given us the uncomfortable gift of perspective. We have experienced tragedies that have made us better able, if we are willing, to look at the everyday things – the broken computers, the minor surgeries, the rude strangers – and sniff back, “Crabgrass.”
“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” Philippians 4:11
Read a great companion blog, “The Practice of Gratitude,” by clicking HERE!
And if you are struggling today, access my Free Resource titles, “Printable Scripture Cards: Knowing Your Abba’s Heart for You When You’re Hurting” by clicking HERE!