Blog - Kitchen Table Devotions

The Dance

by Rita Macdonald

Dear Caregiver, I remember well the first time I came to your home. I was a nurse of many years, but had just taken a home hospice position, and your husband was my first admission. You greeted me at the door with your faithful companion, Sammy, alongside you. Several friends and family members sat around the table. All eyes were on me, and the questions came from every direction. I was nervous. I wanted to do everything correctly, making sure all of the equipment, medications, and staff were in place to provide for every anticipated need. I wanted you to trust me. I wanted your husband to feel comfortable with me caring for him. Twelve-hour shifts were what I was used to at the hospital. Now there would be only weekly visits - yet, I had no idea how well I'd get to know ... View Post

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Encouragement for Young Mommies

by Rita Macdonald

I've often thought that one day, I should sit and write down some of the things I wish younger moms could know... the stuff I learned the hard way... After all, the best way to learn is from someone else's mistakes instead of your own, right? But I've never actually done it. Wrote it down, that is - because I always figured it would just make me sound like a know-it-all, (and who likes a know-it-all?) Or that it would make me sound as if I've done it all so perfectly, and that couldn't be further from the truth! But that doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two. Cuz, I do, actually - know a thing or 10. After all, shouldn't I, after all these years? Some time yesterday while I was out of town, my close friend texted me from Atlanta. She mentors young women and one of them ... View Post

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At Least He Doesn’t Hit Me

by Rita Macdonald

There was once a girl who longed to be married. She dreamed of being a good wife. She wanted to love her husband and make him so proud of her. She met her knight in shining armor. Things were swell at first. But night after night she found herself doing things wrong. Everything she did was wrong, in fact. "I'll do better," she said. But all attempts failed. "I'll call him at work, and I'll remind him how much I love him. I'll make his favorite dinners. The house will be clean. The kids will behave. It will all be okay." "I'll do better," she said. But he was too busy to take those calls. She didn't realize how busy he was. How important he was. How annoying her calls were. How could he make it out of work on time, if she kept calling and bothering ... View Post

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Zip it, Kid

by Rita Macdonald

I can't tell you how many times I sit down with what sounds to me like a fun or meaningful thing to write a story about, I get nice and comfy on the couch with every bony prominence well padded (I don't have very many bony prominences these days), my elbows buried in pillows, big deep breath, hands on the keyboard, and... nothin'..... Seriously. And, it's not like I'm at a loss for some pretty cool stories to tell, cuz I'm not. I'm never out of stories. Never. Usually, I wind up sitting here staring at the screen wondering how to put something into words. I've not ever struggled with this until lately, but today, I hear all sorts of different things because I've only lived here for five months, and my ears are still keenly aware of the strange sounds in my new home. It's ... View Post

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That Great Big Pile of Shoes

by Rita Macdonald

Just the other day, I was leaving the home of someone with young children, and on my way out, she apologized that I had to step over all of the shoes that were in front of the door - shoes that belonged to her kids and their friends. I just laughed and promised her she'd miss these days, and those shoes, and then she laughed back at me, because... well, I don't think she believed me. The whole conversation took me back... way back... all the way back to the day I walked into my home and realized there WERE no more shoes scattered all over the floor from my sons and their neighborhood friends. There was no more laughter with the shananigans going on in the basement while my sons and their friends played video games, or watched movies. I always hated tripping over those shoes. ... View Post

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Garage Tunes

by Rita Macdonald

On Christmas Eve 1993, I pulled into the garage bringing my son Ian home for the very first time, and Bing Crosby's "I'll be home for Christmas," was playing on the radio. We thought it was so appropriate, and let the car run, finishing the song before taking him out of his car seat and bringing him into the house for the very first time. Not a Christmas holiday seasons passes without my hearing that song at least 100 times, and remembering that moment every single time it plays. Last week, Ian came home for the weekend, and I knew he'd been planning to propose to his girlfriend, and I was so excited for him as he shared all of his ideas. Saturday night we went out to dinner and on the way out, he excitedly hopped into the front seat and said he wanted to play the song he thought ... View Post

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Who do You Want to Look like?

by Rita Macdonald

This morning, I took my grandkids for a walk. They are almost 3 and 5, and I only see them every few weeks, so their growth in so many ways always amazes me - especially their vocabularies. We talked about the word "difficult" this morning, and I told them to use it instead of saying "hard" when describing things that are challenging. And so then we had to talk about the word "challenging," and what sorts of things are difficult. A little while later, they saw a lizard in a book, and Owen said it changes colors, so we talked about the word "camouflage," and how the lizard, and other animals can make themselves look just like the environment they are in very quickly. But so can people. In fact, it can even be said about me, as much as I hate to admit it. If I get around someone ... View Post

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The Tired Nurse

by Rita Macdonald

It's almost 10 p.m., my 3rd load of laundry is in the wash, and my weeks' worth of scrubs are hanging on my new clothesline thingy in the garage so I can avoid making my little condo too heated up on this sweet summer night. My shoes are out on the porch with their tongues hanging out to dry after having walked through 18 different houses and nursing homes this week. My car's been cleaned out, my rolling suitcase cleaned up and sorted out, my trunk reorganized (sort of), my box of binders transferred from the back seat "office," to my desk in the basement for updates and purging before Tuesday, and my next week's "hopeful" schedule all planned out. I'm currently sitting with my foot in an Epsom salts soak because the pedicure I was so looking forward to on Monday night went bad and now ... View Post

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