Posts
There is a beauty in caring for the elderly. It's a frustrating and difficult task, and I am amazed at people who do it on a daily basis, but there is somehow a beauty to it as well. My lack of posts these past several days, have been because I have been busy learning that.
I cared for Mac's grandmother for a few days in order to give my mother in law a bit of a respite. I felt somewhat powerless to help in the ways I wanted to. There were small things I could help with, but it's hard to help with grief, feelings of helplessness, and overwhelming stress.
What I did do, was look after someone I love deeply, and who spent many hours looking after people who I now call family. In the large scheme of things, it was the very least I could do.
The days were trying though, and I found myself coming home exhausted. Arguing over eating something, or taking a drink of water, or sitting up for a little exercise, became a common occurrence. I imagine it was frustrating for grandma as well, needing help to do simple things like sitting up in bed. Things that she was fully capable of doing on her own for so many years.
There was this frailty in those moments; moments that reflected in many ways a new baby, needing care and help. This frailty of humanity, that life is fragile and precious.
Though we are months away from Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season, I found myself reflecting on the words we say then "From dust you came, to dust you shall return". The idea that we are mortal is so profound when staring at it.
As I helped grandma she kept saying "Lord have mercy". Maybe it was just a complaint, or reflex, but I kept thinking "He does have mercy. He is extending mercy, even now." That's where I saw the beauty.
Where the concept of death, dust, mortality met with the beauty of life, hope, and resurrection. This reality that while their is death, Christ has conquered the grave.
There was another place I saw beauty to, in the mundane tasks of caring for someone. It wasn't glamorous. I doubt I'll make the front page of papers, or be invited on to day time talk shows for helping my husband's grandmother use the bathroom, but there's a humbling to the whole thing. No doubt for both grandma and I. She has to allow herself to be helped, and I have to be humble enough to do so.
I remember my mom telling me that after my own grandmother had passed away, she went and bathed her body to prepare for the funeral. She told me, with tears in her eyes, that it was the last act of service she could do for her mother.
Service gets overlooked in our society a lot, but being a servant is no small task. It's humbling, and it's hard, but there is such a beauty in it that can't be explained. It's not because you feel good about it, sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. I really believe it's because serving others is the closest thing on this earth to being with the ultimate servant of all, Jesus. In those moments his presence is palpable, because he served in the most profound ways possible, and continues to do so out of his great love for us.
If Jesus has served me so well, how could I do any less for those around me?
