The Job of the Caretaker
All my life, I have witnessed my mother’s gift of sacrificially caring for loved ones, both approaching end-of-life and general care from various life experiences. I have described many times before the honor of watching and learning from her caring for others is to see the fruits of the spirit on full display. She relies fully on the Lord to bring her daily bread and she offers every last crumb. It is a gift to witness and be invited to join alongside her as this gentle gift of love overflows from her sacrifices.
Much of what you’ll read here is from the scribbles that fill many of my ongoing journals. “The Job of the Caretaker” is from June of 2022, as my mom and I were caring for my then 91-year-old grandfather (he has since celebrated 92!), who had taken a tumble down his stairs and fractured a few bones.
A favorite photo of my mom & grandpa from the ‘80s in SF.
The job of the caretaker is not for the faint of heart. Bruised & bleeding. And only a little bit of that do I mean physically. It’s unimaginably hard, but my goodness is it holy. To bear the burdens of another out of love. To give everything for the sake of preserving dignity because it is a worthwhile fight. To feel that every action and decision falls short, but to press on anyway. To know the inevitable you will face is far more painful than what you’re enduring now, but knowing there’s nowhere else you could be instead. The excruciating realities of caring for a loved one approaching end-of-life begs the questionably selfish internal ask: Is all that I’m giving up and taking on really worth it? But I’ve found every time that it is. The life that has been lived and loved is worthy of the care you pour all of yourself into giving. It’s worth the “Lord, meet me here. Give me patience. Help me to stay gentle. Let the love overpower the fear” prayer that seems to fall out of my mouth on a loop. And somehow, no matter what happens along the way…the fight becomes another lesson on divine intermingling. Hurt & hope. Joy & sorrow. Heartbreak & celebration. Peace & pain. Tears & laughter. They often find each other in the same places, and every single time I’m met with the deep comfort Christ offers and a gentle reminder that He was right there all along.