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12.7.11 You Do What?

     A year ago my father purchased a foreign currency that is about to be revalued, meaning we had to find a free checking account at a bank that can exchange the currency—and quickly. I suggested a local bank I knew with free checking and a $1 minimum deposit, but when my father looked into transportation, it turned out the service he normally uses doesn’t reach that area. We moved to Plan B. 

     I confirmed that Wells Fargo would exchange the currency, and I called Dad to let him know that we were in business.  I asked him to wait until it was time to exchange the currency, however, and then I’d meet him at the bank and assist him in opening the account and completing the exchange. 

     “What if you’re in Kansas when this happens?” he asked.  “Shouldn’t I have my account open and ready?” 

     “That’s a good point, Dad,” I said. “But let’s wait for this week to play out before we worry about that.” I was fairly certain the currency would be exchanged before I left. 

     Dad considered my suggestion maybe five minutes.  That same day Dad went into overdrive and decided he needed to pursue this ASAP, so he got on his computer and found Wells Fargo himself. He’s had a non-profit account for his ministry there for years.  Instead of lining up transportation to open a checking account, he noticed on the website that he could open an account online, so he proceeded to do so without consulting me. That afternoon I got a phone call stating that he put $150 on his Chase credit card for an opening deposit and $25 for a Savings account. 

     It sounded tame and simple enough at first. But his follow-up email led me to believe we had bigger issues.  He was going to have to set up a draft of $25/month to “keep the account afloat to avoid $10/month fees,” which sent up red flags.  After spending two weeks last spring unhooking over twenty bank drafts tied to his credit cards and his bank account, this was the LAST thing I was going to embrace. “Why isn’t his checking account free?” I thought.  And why was the minimum deposit $150 of all things?”  The account at the other bank only required $1 and was free. 

     My response to his email was firm. “If we don’t have a free checking account,” I wrote, “then it is not serving the purpose for which it was intended. “ I re-emphasized that this Wells Fargo account was only a shell account, and once the currency is exchanged, the dollars will be wired to his brokerage account at Ameriprise, and the Wells Fargo account will be closed.  In the meantime, I would be stopping any drafts of $25/month.  Dad responded to my email with confusion.  “If Wells Fargo can receive and exchange my currency,” he wrote, “who needs Ameriprise?”  (Have I mentioned that Dad set up his brokerage account with me as his advisor to manage the dollars that will come in from the exchange?)  I picked up the phone to avoid multiple emails and reminded him that I was a professional financial advisor.  “You do what?” he asked.  I was floored.  It was in this moment I fully grasped the seriousness of Dad’s dementia.  Could it be that my father had no recollection of what I do for a living?  

     With Dad’s mental faculties impaired, I realized I needed to scan his email for any transactions I may not have been aware of.  I discovered two emails of the same date entitled, “Welcome to Wells Fargo.”  One email was sent at 2:53 p.m. and the second was sent at 4:06 p.m.  I’m thinking Dad opened two checking accounts online because he forgot about the first. Both emails showed $150 as the opening deposit.  By this time I was commercial, industrial-strength frustrated.  I called Dad to ask if he was aware of opening two accounts, and he said no.  His intent was to open one checking for $150 and one savings for $25.  I told him the emails were indicating two accounts at $150 each.  He then asked if I could fix this, and I told him I would try.  At this point I was struggling with why I had to clean up yet another mess.  If he would quit attempting financial transactions and let me do them for him, we wouldn’t have these problems.  I have very little downtime for myself.  I feel emotionally drained when I have to use the scarce resource of time to deal with a situation that was preventable. 

     Seeing that time is precious, I decided I didn’t have time to throw myself a pity party.  I pressed on and looked up his Chase account online.  Sure enough, there were two pending payments of $150 waiting to be sent to Wells Fargo.  What started as a proactive step on my father’s part had turned into a financial fiasco.  Dad’s debt is still growing, albeit slowly, and the last thing we need is $300 charged on a credit card plus the interest that will accrue.  

     Since I had Dad’s permission to “fix this,” I took a copy of my Power of Attorney (POA) and a copy of the account number and went to the nearest Wells Fargo bank.  I was nervous because some organizations don’t accept a POA until it’s reviewed by their legal department, which can take a couple of weeks.  However, this sweet banker was fine with the documentation I provided and was willing to talk to me about this fiasco. I explained the whole situation, and her solution was quick and decisive. 

     “Since we don’t see the opening deposits yet,” she said, “we can just close the accounts right now, and the Chase payments will be rejected.  It will be as if these accounts were never opened.”  I agreed with her recommendation.

     “Let’s close them,” I said.  She also offered a solution. 

     “Your Dad doesn’t need to go online to open a checking account.  Since his ministry account is here, we have his drivers license, signature card, SSN, etc, on file, so it only takes a phone call to open an account.”  I asked if I could do that for him when the time came, and she said yes because she has my POA on file.  I profusely thanked her and marveled at God’s wonderful grace.  

     God just delivered Dad from a mess he unintentionally created.  That’s the kind of God we serve.  His grace abounds in the messes we make.  I have created plenty of messes in my life, and I am thankful that God unconditionally loves me and delivers me.  He did it today for my Dad, and He will do it again if He needs to.  God is good all of the time.  His grace always abounds–even when Dad forgets what I do for a living. 

Blessings,

Lee Ann

11.3.11 A Day in the Life of Dad

     It’s Friday afternoon around 3:00, and I have just arrived at Dad’s apartment to do my bi-weekly inventory so I can re-stock his shelves with groceries, medical supplies, and medications.  As I enter his apartment, I see the typical clutter.  In the kitchen is a makeshift pantry, made of four tiers of shelving.  Littering the floor are old newspapers and newsletters that need to be placed in the recycle bin, although I can’t do that without him supervising, lest he gets upset.  So the floor remains cluttered. 

     When I call out his name, he let’s me know he is in his bedroom.  I wander into his room and find a smiling nurse named Charity standing by the foot of his bed.  Dad is in his wheelchair with his back to me.  Charity has just finished redressing his stasis ulcers and his bed has a used chuck on it that needs to be thrown out as it is contaminated by some of the fluids that drain from his open ulcers.  Dad is glad to see me.

      “Charity, have you met my daughter?”  he asks.  Dad loves to introduce me to the staff.  He watches Charity pack her medical supplies so she can tend to the next resident.

      “Lee Ann,” Dad asks.  “See those alcohol pads?  I need you to buy some for me when you do your shopping.” 

      “I actually have plenty of these,” offers Charity.  “ I will be glad to leave you with a supply of them.” 

      “That won’t be necessary,” says Dad.  “I need some on an ongoing basis, so I will have Lee Ann go buy them.” 

      “Charity, that is a sweet offer,” I say.  “On behalf of Dad, we accept!”  (I’m thinking protect the little cash we have on hand.) 

     We hear a knock at the door.  Dad hollers, “Come in!”  A tall medical aide enters with clean laundry.  Now there are four people squeezed into Dad’s small bedroom.  Dad can’t see her face because his back is still to us.  She is not smiling.  In fact, she looks like she hates her job.  This look only gets exacerbated when my Dad begins to criticize her as she brings in clean T-shirts, sweat pants, and towels.  Dad is fussing at her because she not only picked up his basket of dirty laundry, but she took the liberty to pick up a dirty towel off of his bed. 

     “I don’t want you to take the towel off my bed,” says Dad.  “If I want it cleaned, then I will PUT it in the laundry basket.  I even typed a note and hung it by the laundry basket requesting that you only launder what I put in the basket.” 

     The aide is NOT smiling.  She is clearly put out.   

     “Dad, she was only trying to be helpful,”  I say, trying to rescue her.

      “I leave all kinds of notes around this apartment, but they don’t bother to read them.  Do they not read English?” Dad asks.   The aide rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  She seems sorry she ever showed up.  She heads out the door.                 

     Charity has her travel bag packed with her medical supplies, and she leaves also, “Have a good day, Harry,” she says with all smiles. 

     It’s now Dad and me.  I pull his wheelchair out of the bedroom and into the living room.  He is still agitated from the interaction with the aide, but I am ready to walk through the apartment and make a  list of groceries and supplies he’ll need to sustain him for the next two weeks.  My goal is to get this done quickly so I don’t have to hang around long in an apartment that smells like urine.  Dad is incontinent.  He has adult diapers, but they aren’t enough.  Dad stuffs his sweats with a thick towel  to absorb additional leakages.  But those aren’t always changed as often as they should be, and when they are, the towels go in his laundry basket, and it may be a day before a new wash is done.  The stench  never goes away. 

     I leave him by his computer in the living room.  “I will be back with your groceries in about an hour,” I say as I head out the door. 

     Dad has a strong need to control, especially his environment.  If things aren’t done the way he requests, it’s emotionally disruptive for him, and he takes it out on staff.  If he can’t find what he needs in his apartment, it frustrates him.  If I try to tidy up his apartment when he’s out of pocket by throwing away old newspapers and newsletters, he gets angry because these papers “might be useful later.”  He wants to oversee what leaves the apartment via the trash can, recycle bin, or otherwise.  Caring for my Dad can be challenging for me and the staff who care for him.  Yet I serve my Dad because it’s a high calling.  God commands us to honor our parents.  

      I Timothy 5:4 says that “children or grandchildren should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God.”  Though this passage refers to caring for widows, I believe the principle applies to any parent or grandparent who is in need of care.  Verse 8 of this same chapter says, “If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.”  These are samples of biblical reasons I care for my Dad.  But there is an emotional reason that supersedes them.  I love my Dad.  I am committed to giving him the very best I have to offer.  When he passes, I will be able to put my head on a pillow each night knowing I did the very best I could to help him manage the fears and frustrations he’s had to deal with before the Lord takes him home.  He is sick and tired of his life and is praying for an early ticket into eternity.  

     There are many reasons I look forward to heaven, but one will be seeing a father who is completely healed physically and emotionally and spending eternity with him in a perfect, sinless state.  Better days are ahead! 

Blessings,

Lee Ann

10.6.11 Don’t Forget Your Sweater

“A sweater is what a child wears when the Mother is cold,”  said Dr. Scott Floyd, my former counseling professor at seminary.  He was teaching us the difference between a felt need and a perceived need.   How many times as kids did we insist we were not cold and tried to refuse a sweater before going outside?  How many of us went outside wearing the sweater because our parents made us – even after we protested?  Our perceptions of someone else’s needs do not always correspond to what they feel they need. 

Dad is donning many new sweaters that I’ve asked him to wear, though he isn’t feeling cold.  I perceived that we needed to streamline his finances, get insurance reimbursements,  enroll him in the VA medical system, explore the interactions of his supplements with his medications, and control spending.   I have invested countless hours to get to this place, but I am coming to realize this practical form of helping Dad was the easy part.  There’s a larger issue that I won’t be able to fix. 

Dad’s compulsive hoarding disorder (CHD) creates ongoing tension between us.  Dad is driven to overstock, while I am passionate about keeping his finances in the black.  Thus, when he makes a purchase request,  it is typically more than he needs, and I instinctively question the amount requested.  I send him a detailed budget each month demonstrating the thin margin he has, but it doesn’t seem to get through to him that we can’t spend on extras.  In fact, he responds by using the credit card.  I learned the hard way that when Dad says he’s out of something, that may mean the item was moved to another room, and he doesn’t remember taking it there.  Or it may mean the item is blending in with the clutter so he can’t see it.  It can also mean that he wants an extra supply of “x” because it relieves his anxiety.  For example, one day I got an urgent call that he was out of a certain OTC medication.  Believing him, I made a special trip to buy a new box only to find one sitting on the shelf in plain view.  Tension sparked immediately.  “Dad, do you realize you still have this OTC medication with three sheets of tablets inside the box?  Did you even look inside?” I asked.  Dad shot me a look of irritation and never answered the question.  

To cure the overstocking tendency,  Dad’s wearing a new sweater.  In order to manage his checkbook,  I go to his assisted living apartment  every other week and take inventory.  My goal is to replenish his shelves with enough groceries, OTC meds, and medical supplies,  to sustain him for two weeks.  I make sure that the quantities he requests are not going to exceed a  given two-week cycle.  But there’s tension.  Recently, he asked me to get six boxes of cereal, while he still had one unopened box on his shelf.  When I came back to the apartment with only three boxes of cereal – because he had told me three boxes last him a month – he was displeased and asked why I edited his order.  I reminded him that we are on limited cash flow.  Our goal is to pace our spending until his next checks arrive.  The financial management  just doesn’t register with him.  

Dad will occasionally take off a sweater.  When Dad perceives that he’s running low on any item, he feels anxious.  He will line up a van to go to Walmart instead of waiting for our next inventory.  I know this happens because I review our checking account online, and I see the cleared checks he’s written.  He doesn’t know how close he is to being overdrawn because he doesn’t ask me.  He has no idea how much of his balance is earmarked in the billpay pipeline.  It doesn’t matter to him.  He purchases what he feels he “needs”.  

There is an additional sweater I want him to wear.  I believe he would benefit from the help of a psychologist who specializes in CHD.  I took the time to look for an expert in Austin, and it turns out that there is a psychologist less than two miles from his apartment who makes home visits to do evaluations.  I asked the Nursing Director if Medicare covers these type of visits, and she told me that it does, if it’s ordered by a medical professional.  Since Dad continues to experience paranoia  in addition to his CHD,  his PCP agreed that an evaluation would be helpful.  However, the Nursing Director informed me that Dad would have to sign a release allowing the psychologist to evaluate him.  When I mentioned the idea to Dad, he refused.  “The last thing I need is for someone to ‘help’ me,” he said.  “I am afraid that if this gets imposed on me it will dampen our relationship.”  I told him I would bring him some information on this disorder so he can at least get educated on this issue. 

Do I continue to put on sweaters I think Dad needs to wear to ward off financial ruin, or do I let CHD continue to takeover?  Here are some of the questions  I struggle with as I try to get a handle on what it means to show honor and dignity to my Dad: 

  • In trying to help Dad in ways I think are meaningful for him, are my efforts really about meeting his needs or mine? 
  • Is “doing what’s best for him” a code for “Let’s do what will make Lee Ann’s life easier”?
  • Exactly how much dysfunction does he have to demonstrate before I handle more of his affairs? 
  • Doesn’t grace in the midst of some mental deterioration fit in this situation?  If so, is there such a thing as too much grace?  How do we recognize the natural decline in memory and the ability to make prudent decisions without over-reacting? 
  • Why should I care if he runs up credit card debt?  It’s not my problem and won’t be when he passes.   Am I over-functioning in the area of helping him with his finances?
  • In the scheme of life, are a few poor decisions by Dad and the frustrations they create for me a mountain or a mole hill?  Are they hassles? Yes.  Does that entitle me to pull the trigger right away and take over his affairs? 
  • Most importantly, how does God view my decision-making and how I am trying to honor Dad and give him dignity?  God commands, “honor your father and mother.”  Is He pleased with how I am trying to serve Dad in his time of need? 

I don’t have any answers to the questions above, but they float around in my head regularly.  My Father will never wear this sweater around CHD.  He doesn’t see it as a problem and probably never will.  He will always order six boxes of cereal.  The heart of the matter is that Dad is out of control, and I’m trying to help him gain better control with new sweaters when he doesn’t feel cold.  I don’t see a solution yet.  This is where my faith in God is so important.  

The Bible says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” (Jam 1:5).  God will share His wisdom with me.  I rest in the fact that God knows my heart.  He knows my Dad’s heart and his needs.  I plan to pray fervently for God’s guidance, wisdom, and grace to make the best decisions possible on behalf of my Dad.  If I am in denial, I am confident He will show me that.  If I am missing the mark, I am confident that He will show me because He desires to take care of Dad just as much as He wants to take care of you and me.  I will continue to err on the side of giving Dad the benefit of the doubt.  I will continue to allow occasional mental lapses without looking for a “gotcha” to justify taking over his affairs.  I believe that as the days go on, the reality of what needs to happen will crystalize more as God shows me how He’s at work in my Dad’s life.  I know that God will show me how to love my Dad, honor my Dad, and give Dad dignity.  He will give me the “peace that surpasses all human understanding that will guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:7)   

In the meantime, there are plenty of new sweaters hanging in his closet.  Maybe I should take them to Goodwill. 

Blessings,

Lee Ann

9.1.11 The Long and Winding Road

It’s 2am in the morning, and I’m asleep.  The phone rings.  As the cellphone screen brightens the room, my eyes try to focus on who the caller is, and it’s Dad.  I let it roll to the voice mail because Dad is known for impulsively calling and requesting prayer without regard to the time.  I try to go back to sleep, but my curiosity wins, so I listen to the voice mail.  Dad called to report an act of vandalism.  He put his wallet and his cellphone inside some pants that he hid in his microwave oven.  When he went to go get his wallet and phone, he discovered that they were both completely SOAKED.  The pants were dry.  He believes some aide is coming into his apartment while he is asleep and vandalizing him.  He is calling because he wants me to consider spending the night with him to catch the perpetrator in the act.  The account is bizarre.  He thinks it’s demonic, and maybe it is.  It also might be a side effect of one of his medications for depression. 

The world is out to get him, and I am working hard to not discount his reports.  He wrote up an employee named Tootsie because he felt she was inflammatory when they met at an elevator.  She allegedly said with a hostile tone, “You’re finished!”  Dad had no idea what she meant by that, but it created anxiety and a lack of emotional safety. The Nursing Director heard from him.  He called me again Sunday afternoon to ask for prayer and for salvation for “whoever is still vandalizing him.”  He reported that someone came into his apartment while it was unattended and stole a blue bowl and a bottle of Witch Hazel.  For the record, things come up missing regularly because he displaces items in his apartment by moving them to another room, soon forgetting where he left them.  What was once lost and then found gets chalked up as “harassment by a nurse.” Nothing has been stolen!  I have a hard time believing that someone is shuffling items around the apartment just to aggravate him, but Dad has installed motion sensor cameras to catch the nurse in the act.  

This journey with Dad regularly includes tales such as the ones I’ve shared.  Discerning reality is becoming an ongoing routine.  Because of my Father’s state of mind, I continue to grapple with how and when to use my legal right to conduct Dad’s business.  I deeply desire to honor my Dad and give him dignity by giving him a voice in the decisions I would like to make, but what does this look like?  The struggles are many. 

First, Dad is hooked on supplements, which is one of the reasons he’s in debt.  It is not uncommon to meet him for lunch and find a small glass jar filled with 40 supplements.  I watch as all 40 pills slide out of the jar and into his mouth, chased down with enormous gulps of water.  Dad is also on multiple prescribed medications.  I think his primary care physician (PCP) should know what he is taking to make sure he is not counteracting any of his prescriptions.  As the medical POA, I could simply write the physician a letter and apprise her of this.  I’ll give you one guess as to how my Dad feels about that idea. When I mentioned it, he said, “Honey, they are required to cover their tails.  Of course they are not going to support supplements because not all of them have a proven track record.  I believe in optimizing my health, and I believe these supplements are the reason I am as healthy as I am.”  I said, “It still doesn’t change the fact that your PCP should know because you don’t know for a fact that you aren’t offsetting the benefit of prescribed medications.”  Can you see that this exchange is going nowhere fast?  

My family believes that he has a psychological addiction to supplements, and he believes that they have benefitted him over the years, though that can’t be quantified.  He wants to keep popping pills, and I want to see reduced credit card bills.  So how do I honor Dad and yet make sure he is not damaging his health by taking all of these supplements?  How do I make sure he feels his voice is heard?  I met him in the middle. 

I had the list of medications from his PCP, and Dad compiled his list of supplements.  My brother Gene is sending this combined list to a registered dietician, and I am sending this list to a pharmacist who will evaluate the interactions to see if there would be any negative side effects.  Gene and I are waiting on the results, but if there are any red flags, it is understood that we will make his physician aware of it.  If neither professional sees the supplements undermining the efficacy of his medications, then we will probably let this be something Dad will continue not to disclose to his PCP. 

There is also a mental health issue that has been the white elephant in his living room for years.  My Dad has compulsive hoarding disorder.  I don’t have time to explain the key features, but I would invite you to Google it.  I used to joke with Dad that when I would come to visit him, his house looked like another Office Max outlet.  Dad has a major tendency to overstock on anything he buys.  I have never known him to buy one of anything.  It’s a Sam’s store concept taken to an unhealthy extreme.  This has become a cash flow issue as he wants me to buy two to three times what he needs, and he doesn’t have the money to back it up.  Another drawback of this disorder is that nothing can be thrown away because “It’s important and may be useful later.”  Anxiety drives this disorder, and he has had it for years.  His physician has no clue that he suffers with it.  As his medical POA, I think the PCP should know about this.  There are medications that can assist him to reduce his anxiety.  However, to stay consistent with my goal to honor Dad and give him a voice, I introduced him to this disorder first and gave him a thumbnail sketch of it.  I asked him if he would be open to letting a psychologist come in and do a home assessment, but he is resistant.  He has never heard of this disorder, so I am going to provide him with information so he can learn about it. 

The credit card situation also creates tension.  The idea of closing credit cards creates angst.  When I visited with him two weeks ago about the need to move in this direction, he emphatically said, “DON’T!” He proceeded to tell me that these credit cards are his “rescue” if he gets in a bind.  No amount of logic or spiritual truths mattered.  I told him that the Lord was providing for his needs already.  Any expenses above his needs are truly wants.  That would not be heard.  I suggested that credit cards don’t rescue him, but the Lord does.  That would not be heard.  I told him if he had expenses that went beyond his income that he truly needed, our family without question would help him.  That would not be heard either.  Dad feels security holding onto these credit cards.  Again, I am convinced that honoring Dad means letting him have a voice and helping him feel some sense of control.  So I honored Dad by asking him to let me hold most of the credit cards so he wouldn’t spend on them, and in return I made a promise not to close them.  That seems to be working for now.  The good news is that Dad is trying hard not to spend on his credit cards, and he is starting to call me now when he wants to put something on his credit card.  

The help Dad needs goes beyond financial assistance.  Our financial stress reflects his psychological stress.  I have to remind myself that what I experience is only a taste of the turmoil he must feel on the inside.  I need the Lord to season me with grace to exude His compassion and mercy when I am feeling frustrated with my Dad.  I haven’t felt successful in doing this over the last week.  I let my frustrations show several different times, and I need to get a handle on this.  My Dad is a challenge, but I am still up for it because I know that in this journey God’s grace is sufficient, and His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Cor 12:10).  It’s a long and winding road, and I have no idea where it will end.  Please continue to pray for me and my Dad.  I don’t want to lose sight of the goal to honor him and give him the dignity he deserves.  I believe God is big enough to help me with this.  But I do need His grace and His insights, so please pray! 

Blessings,

Lee Ann

8.18.11 V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

After my last blog post about my quest to manage Dad’s finances, I heard from many of you that you have been praying for me and my Dad.  Your prayers are being heard.  God is showing up in the midst of my quagmire!  It seemed appropriate to dedicate a post to brag on God and the victories He has brought so far because of your prayers: 

1.   I was able to file claims on Dad’s two hospital indemnity plans.  By God’s grace, I managed to file them three days before the deadline.  Within two weeks we received a reimbursement check for $2,334.  The second insurance carrier sent me two checks today totaling $6,688.  This is enough to pay off at least two of Dad’s credit cards.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord. 

2.   My Dad had a 900-minute cellphone plan when he averaged only 550 minutes per month.  Changing his plan to mirror his usage translated to a savings of $50/month.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord. 

3.   Dad’s military insurance company (USAA) was deducting $88.52/month for “Property & Casualty.” Upon further investigation I discovered it was a bundled premium comprised of an umbrella policy, an auto policy, and renters insurance.  Dad hasn’t driven a car for over two years because he is not medically able. He lives in a small assisted living apartment with very old, 4-drawer lateral files, an old desk, and a bed/chest of drawers. We don’t need renters insurance. I cancelled these policies, saving Dad an additional $89/month.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord. 

4.   I called USAA because Dad was being charged for auto insurance while he hasn’t been driving.  I explained that he was on painkillers for his open ulcers, which made it unsafe for him to drive.  Though it is ultimately Dad’s responsibility to notify USAA that he would no longer be driving a car, his memory was not functioning because he was so drugged up.  Dad was just not in a position to recognize that he was still paying auto insurance when the premium was blended in with two other policies.  Since Dad has given USAA business for many years, USAA was willing to work with me.  With a note from his physician vouching for his inability to drive, USAA issued a credit of $718.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord. 

5.   Getting Dad enrolled in the VA medical system for free care is a top priority.  Especially when the day comes when he will most likely need around-the-clock care.  I needed to complete a VA enrollment application, but that task seemed overwhelming given that I had no idea how to get started.  It was no coincidence that God placed in my Sunday School Class a woman who is a VA trained peer counselor and knew all about the enrollment process!  She was a tremendous help, and because of her assistance, I completed Dad’s application with the right military paperwork to send off to the VA by August 4th.  That was a victory in my book.  Thank you, Lord, for how you raised up the right person to assist me and for helping Dad find his Discharge Summary in his file. Would you please pray that God would grant my Dad favor in the eyes of the VA to receive an acceptance letter? (Potential Ka-Ching!) 

6.   I discovered Dad was paying $22/month for backup services for his computer files, when he had already subscribed to a three-year, online backup service.  He just didn’t remember having done that.  Thus, I got to cancel $22/month for additional savings to the bottom line.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord.

7.   Remember all of his charitable giving via credit cards and his bank account that I had to unhook?  That was a savings of $650/month.  Ka-Ching!  Thank you, Lord. 

8.   Dad is a big believer in tithing to the Lord.  I am too.  It is not an option to not tithe!  It’s a victory to be able to write the Lord a “thank you note” for His provisions and not be in the red. 

God hears the prayers of His children, and so I am sharing these victories with you!  These victories are ours, not mine alone.  I am so blessed to be surrounded by so many prayer warriors.   Matthew 18:19-20 gives us Jesus’ promise, “I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.  For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”  God has honored our prayers that have been uttered in agreement.  But there are still unresolved issues that are deeper than saving money.  I will be sharing the more difficult issues in my next post. 

Blessings,

Lee Ann