Being caretaker for aging and ill parents is commonplace today, but the physical and emotional challenges it presents can over overwhelm the caretaker. I share this column in support of those who are in such a position. It was written about 14 years ago as I strove to be caretaker for my terminally ill mother, after the sudden death of my father, while raising six sons and working full time.
"Bear one another's burdens, and so you will fulfill the law of Christ." (Gal. 6:2)
Well, here I am once again, standing at the ocean's edge as another hurricane rapidly approaches. Choir members have taken to calling me Typhoon Mary, asking that I notify them of my scheduled vacations so they can make sure to stay home.
There is something mystical and mesmerizing about the ocean. For me it has become a place of peace and tranquility in a life that daily seems to become increasingly complicated. In spite of the impending storm, I have no desire to leave here. Walking on the beach at 7 a.m., leaving my family asleep in the motel, I experience a solitude long missing from my life—a solitude we all need occasionally to maintain our mental health.
Looking out over the churning waves and pounding surf, I would not be surprised to see mighty Neptune rising out of the foam, trident in hand, head thrown back in macabre laughter at the power he exerts over humankind. In the same instance, I am grateful to know only the one God who created all of this out of love for us. Sometimes, when I consider the things that brought me to this place, I marvel at his unending generosity to children who are so often inclined to be willful, disobedient, judgemental and hurtful.
Though feelings of meloncholy sweep over me at the thought of returning home, I can not help but smile at the array of birds who seem to be performing for my pleasure. I am amazed at how each group has developed its own unique repertoire.
Obviously secure in its aged wisdom, the grandaddy of seagulls undertakes an ornithological tapdance, churning up delicacies from beneath the watery sand, while delicate troupes of sand pipers, moving blithely across the shore like synchronized ice skaters, rely on speed to secure their morning meal. Nearby a staunch pelican sits squarely on the tilting post of the pier, eyeing his breakfast carefully before making a graceful swoop across the water.
In a way I suppose we are like those birds, each of us tap dancing, skating or swooping our way through life, meeting the challenges put before us in our own unique style.
The difference is that birds don't judge each other because they fail to dance the same dance.
When I was 10 years old, my father gave me a beautiful dream catcher woven with colorful beads and silky feathers. In the center, burned into a piece of leather were the words "Don't judge another until you've walked a mile in their moccasins." I've seen similar sentiments expressed in a dozen ways and in as many languages since then, but for me, it's no less meaningful now. Maybe it's even more so as I struggle to meet the challenges of being a caretaker for a sick parent—a challenge more and more people seem to face with each year.
I am fortunate, blessed really, with a family which supports my decision to keep my mother home with me— with a husband who never complains about fast food meals or a laundry room that seems to grow dirty clothes as fast as the mold on that mystery "food" in the refrigerator, with children who never complain about having to stay home with "Nanny" while I work and who give her snacks and call me if they think they should put her bed down a little, or young adult children (sons no less) who will take on the responsibility of caring for their grandmother overnight so I can have a much needed respite away, being careful to give her the medication she needs, prepare her meals or change her position.
I will not apologize for letting my children share in the responsibility, or for needing time away from home, nor do I ever regret standing my ground when I disagree with the doctors or nurses. And if there should come a time when I must place my mother in someone else's care, I will do so free of heart because these decisions are part of how I meet the challenge put before me.
For my wonderful fellow caretakers, who daily make difficult decisions about the care of a loved one, whether in home or in a nursing facility, I will share the advice my father gave me after he spent three long years caring for his wife: "As much as possible, live a normal life. Make time for yourself and your family and never feel guilty for the decisions you make. Trust in God and in your own wisdom."
For outsiders who seem to find fault or feel the need to pass judgment, whether family members, friends or professionals, I will share another bit of wisdom. "The surest way down the road of understanding is in another person's shoes."
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