I finally figured out how to get Dad to church without losing him, first. I just don’t tell him it’s Sunday!

I called Dad ten minutes before I arrived at his Board & Care. He hadn’t shaved in quite a few days, in fact, he looked like a salty sea captain. So back we went into the Board and Care to spruce him up.

Ten minutes later, Dad was good to go.

The problem this morning wasn’t my dad. It was my husband.

Steve had forgotten to write out a tithing check, so just as the ushers were coming toward us, he grabbed my purse and yanked out my wallet. Then, frantically scribbling, his pen ran out of ink. He scowled at me, as if this was all my fault. I grabbed a pencil from the pew pocket, to which Steve announced in his lifeguard voice, “No! You can’t sign a check with a pencil!”

Dad, always eager to be part of the action, added his two-cents. “Sure you can!”

The woman seated next to us looked over, a couple of times, wondering if something was wrong.

Quietly, I whispered to her, “I’m sorry. My father has Alzheimer’s and my husband is just plain loud.”