What makes me cry as a caregiver is a list that keeps getting longer. On this, the day before my 65th birthday, I'm writing down everything that makes me cry. Think of it as reverse bucket list. A bucket with a hole that leaks tears out my eyes. Do you have the picture in your head? Good.
Photo by Louis Galvez on Unsplash
What Makes Me Cry as a Caregiver?
Imagining my parents receiving Dad's diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. They were so young, only 29. They'd been married 8 years. They had 2 young children. They must have been devastated. Even so, they carried on and stepped into a new life, encouraged and supported by their families, their church, and their co-workers. My parents' pluck and determination makes me cry, too.
Remembering the surgical pain my son endured as a newborn. Newborns weren't given pain medication during surgery until 1986, and our baby was born in 1982. If time travel was a thing, I would use it to correct the faulty research that caused such pain for my son and thousands of other newborns.
Memories of the tiny town that gathered round us and our medically-fragile son during his early years. The town only had 92 people—even fewer now. But the residents have a long history of rallying around people with disabilities and their caregivers. They were Christ with skin on when we needed His presence in real, practical ways. They continue that practice to this very day.
Failing those in my care. This past spring was a litany of failed attempts to advocate for my mother as her health declined. The pandemic, staff turnover at her care center, bottlenecks at the doctor's office, and navigating unfamiliar territory caused the failures on a daily basis. No wonder I cried on a daily basis, too.
Delays and inefficiency. When things don't move as quickly as I want as a caregiver—and in all my other roles—I cry. My tears don't come from a place of gratitude or empathy as do those listed in items 1 through 4. These tears come from a place of frustration. Of trusting my own agenda and timeline more than God's. They are ugly tears that lead to self-pity and sin. All it takes to lead me down that path is an automated phone system that goes nowhere. If you create such systems, please don't call me.
God's kindness and patience toward sinners. Specifically toward this sinner. Why He gives me chance after blown chances to trust His way above my own, I don't know. Why He sent His Son to die for a woman who shouts at automated voice prompts on the phone, I'll never know. But He does, and knowing He does makes me cry. I'm crying now.
The sacrifice of Christ. The sacrifice of Jesus goes beyond God's supernatural kindness and patience. Jesus sacrificed His own blood. He endured excruciating pain on the cross. He sacrificed His voice, remaining silent while scoffers hurled insults at Him. Jesus, my caregiver, gave everything for sinners. Now I'm crying hard. Are you with me?
The longer I care for loved ones with disabilities—first my father, then my son, and now my mother—the more easily and more often I cry.
What makes me cry as a caregiver can be boiled down to two interconnected truths: The weakness and wonder of human flesh, and the marvelous compassion of Jesus, our caregiver, who bears our grief and carries our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4).
This is a repost of a blog written by Jolene Philo on July 26, 2021.
Jolene Philo is the author of several books for the caregiving community. She speaks at parenting and special needs conferences around the country. She’s also the creator and host of the Different Dream website. Sharing Love Abundantly With Special Needs Families: The 5 Love Languages® for Parents Raising Children with Disabilities, which she co-authored with Dr. Gary Chapman, was released in August of 2019 and is available at local bookstores, their bookstore website, and Amazon. See Jane Sing!, the second book in the West River cozy mystery series, which features characters affected by disability, was released in November of 2022.
