I’ve been taking Dad to church the last few weeks, since Mom is out of commission (broke hip healing nicely, thank you).
Each week, as the ushers prepare to pass the collection plate, Dad pulls out his wallet and shakes his head, embarrassed.
He has no cash in his wallet, for obvious reasons.
But letting that collection plate pass by bothers him, so I tuck a few dollars into his hand so that he can make his contribution.
Like other times, I am so touched by the patterns in my dad’s life that are holding strong, despite his weakening mind.
Even with Alzheimer’s, Dad has a knack for getting the “right things right.”