A new series of Monday meditations will give us examples to help us embrace God's gift of lament.

Which is worse? To see a young life snatched away too soon? Or to watch a long life twist to a tortured end?

We live in an age of constant change, even though our instinct is to resist it. But for caregivers like me, facing change is a weekly challenge.

Everyone who knows about Alzheimer’s anticipates that Evelyn is not doing well. But my new friend asked about me.

I don’t know why I had tears that morning. But a story from Scripture gave me a new idea.

Another family vacation without Evelyn. Wonderful—and sad.

I was getting a little bored with the book till I came to the last chapter and realized Tucci had touched something far more profound than what we’ll fix for dinner.

The resolution to one friend’s stress could lead to deeper peace for me, too.

For the first time in 51 years, we didn’t celebrate our wedding anniversary. But I marked the occasion in a way I’ll always remember.

Another trip to the hospital for a condition that hadn’t taken us there before. How many more trips will there be?

A caregiver’s plea for help in dealing with his task reminded me of conclusions that have come to me in more than five years of caregiving.

A reader asked for advice, and that’s not what this blog is about. But maybe some stories from my experience will help him.

I thought the pressure of making difficult decisions would end with Evelyn living in residential care. Saturday morning I realized that end won’t likely be anytime soon.

The list helps me keep from living my life haphazardly. I don’t accomplish every goal every day, but these are a good checklist for every week.

I’m living alone, and I’ve decided to cope with that by not always staying alone. So I invited three couples for dinner. Like everything else in my life now, it felt odd, a strange mix of the familiar with the all-new.

This year I signed Easter cards with my name alone. I’m finally ready to admit that our reality has changed.

I can honestly report, “We are doing fine.” This is true for several reasons.

Yesterday I moved Evelyn into a residential memory care facility. I’m hoping I remain convinced that was the right decision.

“Every time you say ‘yes’ to one thing, you must say ‘no’ to something else.”

Sometimes I wonder what I’d be thinking and feeling and doing if our lives hadn’t been invaded by illness.