Quiet lessons of care-giving

Because she loved anything pink, we planted a pink dogwood
in the yard of my mother-in-law's home. Every spring,
when it blooms, it brings sweet memories of her.

I stood in the store’s cosmetics aisle with my 85-year-old mother-in-law, calling out the color names of lipsticks with a loud voice because of her hearing loss.When she finally chose one, she seemed shocked by price. Dementia had locked her memory of prices to those of decades earlier. At the cash register I paid from her coin purse because counting money confused her. Then I offered my arm for support as we walked to my parked car.
That shopping trip was typical of my day as caregiver for a family member, a role shared by an estimated three to five million American women.

For two decades, I helped her through hip replacement surgery, widowhood, stomach cancer, a heart attack, and the slow decline of Alzheimer’s disease. Eventually she needed total care. When I hurt myself lifting her, the family reluctantly placed her in a care home. She died eleven months later at 89. Sometimes I wondered why God put me in this role for so long. Now I see several lessons He needed to teach me.

1. Slow down. I like a brisk half-hour walk for personal fitness. Her walks, painfully slow, meant she hung on me or a walker, winded after a few steps. Respecting her pace and her many stops to look at flowers renewed my awe of God as Creator. He’s even called the father of the dew (Job 38:28).
2. Find what you’ve lost. Often I hunted through drawers, coat pockets, and paper piles to find a lost hearing aid, bill, or specially-purchased birthday card. When her forgetfulness irritated me, I realized I had lost my joy. Instead of seeking it in circumstances, I needed to simply rejoice in God always (Philippians 4:4).
3. Remember what’s important. Her dementia meant bright memories of the distant past, but a foggy mind about the day’s events, so we wrote daily reminders on an erasable message board. I realized I was prone to “memory loss” of God’s benefits in my life (Psalm 103:2) unless I wrote these down in a notebook or the margins of my Bible.
4. Hear what’s vital. When she cocked her head and looked confused, I’d check if she was wearing her hearing aid. My own spiritual hearing was impaired when responsibilities meant rushing through my days instead of taking little breaks to heed the quiet warning of Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
5. Pare down. Her Depression-era childhood impressed on her to “save,” meaning I had to toss stained clothes, spoiled food, and empty margarine tubs. But the cleanout made me think of my own stash of “things.” Was I wisely using what God gave me? Was I hoarding something that someone else could use? None of it will make the final move to heaven.
6. Accept help. Every Saturday morning while still in her own home, I washed and set her hair and give her a manicure. “What would I do without you?” she would say, fanning out fingers knobbed by arthritis. I thought of God’s spiritual beauty program for me, targeting an at-times unkempt heart and ragged personality. What would I do without pastors, Bible study leaders, and writers of books that lead me closer to Christ?
7. Look past pain to results. Her face itched almost unbearably after a doctor removed some skin cancer. “Let’s focus on how great you’ll look after the stitches come out,” I said to encourage her. God also asked me to trust His plan in the spirit-surgery of care-giving’s demands. James 1:2-4 assured me that persevering through its trials would led to a mature faith.
8. Seek the good in negatives. One day she mourned how she couldn’t drive or take care of a pet any more. Though tempted to dismiss her comment with a shallow “You’re doing just fine,” I reminded her of the need to pray for her descendants, whose photos filled her walls. “One more thing,” I added, “you still have a really sweet spirit.”  She glowed and reached for a hug. Our interaction prompted me to review how often I encourage rather than discourage others.
9. Keep your eyes on the skies. Long after her husband’s death, she prominently displayed his photo and wore her wedding ring. Often she talked of seeing him again. As we rushed her to the hospital with a heart attack at 84, she kept saying, “If this is the time, I’m ready for Heaven.”  I wonder if I will live as long. When a drinking driver nearly ended my life at age 50, I realized that I didn’t want to die yet, even though I’ve trusted in Christ as Savior and have His promise of eternal life. Though my mother-in-law’s dying, I affirmed that life is brief, but God is eternal.
10. Place God in charge. God knew exactly what He was doing as He led me through this season of care-giving. When I felt overwhelmed, I remembered the promise in Isaiah 43:2, that God would be with me when (not “if”) I passed through the waters of difficulties. “When” meant His strength at just the right time.

Some lessons are best learned in shut-away places. Each morning as I came in her home to help bathe and dress her, then fix her breakfast, I was doing it for Christ. In the hidden, mundane, and sometimes frustrating tasks of care-giving someone He loved and valued, God was shaping me for His glory.