Someday, Not Today

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Sometimes Mama says such profound things that I can hardly believe it. Especially since she has so little vocabulary left and her sentences are generally very short.

Today my daughter and I were discussing summer hopes and dreams and vacations. And logistics. Because Mama needs so much help transferring now, and many of us have strength and back limitations, we have become dependent on a few for moving Mama. And sometimes the strong backs are the ones who need the vacations.

So we were discussing these things and figuring out alternate schedules that might work, so Mama still got some moving and changes of scenery, and a chance to stretch her legs a bit.

Later Annie went over to Mama’s to feed her supper. And she came back and said, “Do you know what Grandma said, Mom? She said, ‘Someday, not today, things will be different.’

And Annie and my husband and I all looked at each other amazed. One, because this is a long sentence for Mama to say at this point. And two, because there is so much meaning in that sentence.”

Because someday things will be different. Someday, only God knows how soon, we won’t need to plan around Mama’s care to go on vacation. Someday we won’t need to go over every few hours to feed Mama and change her and move her. Someday we won’t hear her yelling anymore. Someday we won’t be counting out her pills or talking to the nurse or bathing her skin. Someday we won’t be brushing her hair or helping her brush her teeth as she yells and bites the brush.

Someday, not today, things will be different.

Someday I won’t be able to feel her baby soft skin. Someday I won’t be able to smooth back her silvery hair and look into her blue eyes. Someday I won’t be able to hold her arthritic hand and feel her close her fingers around mine. Someday I won’t get to snuggle next to her at nap time and feel her put her arm around me and pat my arm and back. Someday I won’t hear the comments she makes and be amazed.

Someday, not today, things will be different.

Annie finished feeding Mama supper tonight and was saying good-bye to Dad and Mom. Dad said, “Good-bye, Annie.”

But Mama started saying, “Hello! Hello!”

Which makes me think, that the moment we say good-bye to Mama on this earth, she will be saying “Hi!” to Jesus in Heaven! Mama knew Jesus and trusted in Him when her mind was strong, so she will be with Him for eternity. And there with Him her mind will be healthy and clear again.

And I can picture her greeting family and friends. I can see her hugging her own mama. I see her smiling and laughing again. And never in pain ever, ever again. And I know someday I will see her again. And I wonder what our first words to each other will be.

Someday, not today, things will be different.

So today I will treasure up the sweet moments…the shared meals, the hand holding, the cuddling, the singing, and the words Mama says. Today I will hug Mama close and know that she is here and I am blessed to care for her and love her. Today I will kiss her wrinkled cheek and tell her that I love her.

And with God’s help I will serve faithfully on this holy ground He has given me as my mission now.

And I will remember…someday, not today, things will be different.





  1. I worked in a nursing home for almost a decade. I enjoyed the Alzheimer’s unit the most. I commend you for taking care of your loved one at home.
    I am sure that’s not why you wrote this but in American culture we have lost the value of the elderly and old. Those who went before us, made a way with far less than we have now, so often they just become discarded. I hope that you are blessed immensely.

  2. Just absolutely heart warming! Thanks for your profound writings of love! Sounds so familiar…just what my precious Mom is doing at this stage of her disease. Your writings are a comfort to me!! Mary Kay Lee

    Sent from my iPad


    1. I’m so thankful to hear that these writings are a comfort to you, Mary Kay Lee! Sorry you are on this same journey, but know that you are not alone and that God gives grace for each day. ~Cheryl

  3. Beautiful! Very wise… Tells us that they possibly Do know how much you are doing for them. This journey is amazingly, wonderfully… the toughest thing we’re ever asked to do… caring for a loved one with a debilitating illness. Cheryl & Annie, you are in our daily prayers and thoughts. I so admire you! 🙏💞🙏💞🙏 thank-you for sharing with us!

  4. Often I am alone & quiet for hours- lonely even when there are grandchildren and great-grands in the house I am not included in their activities & laughter. I know I am not much fun, but I am still alive & need to be acknowledged in some positive way. Nobody seems to think of that.

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