Caregiver Chronicles: Going the Distance Even When It's a Struggle

A few days ago, I wrote about the night I emptied my dining room and wept because of what was ahead. The next day, my neighbor, Sam, would move into my house so that I could care for him in his final days. I knew it wouldn't be easy.

He's gained strength and has begun to walk with his walker again. Good care and plenty of food have made a big difference.

I wish I could say that those pre-move tears were the only ones I've shed, but they aren't. This is a hard journey for both of us. Sam struggles with the frailty of his body after so many decades of strength. I struggle with the limitations and changes in my home and schedule after so many decades of freedom.

This is a tough journey.

Yesterday, I struggled all day long. There was nothing different I wanted to do, but I felt pressured and overwhelmed. I cried. I prayed. I read the story of Ruth. I worked on my upcoming teaching session. I emailed my coworkers and begged for prayer. Nothing helped. I still felt frantic.

In the back of my mind, the topic I was teaching hovered, but I didn't want to touch it. It would've helped if I had. Instead, I left Sam to his own devices for a while and went to the barn. I unloaded hay bales to the hay room until my muscles ached, cleaned out the tool box on the truck, took a walk, and ate the last fudgsicle. 

The topic I wanted to avoid is from the book entitled, 5 Habits of a Woman Who Doesn't Quit. The habit I'm teaching is: "She follows through with her commitments despite how she feels."

Yeah. Right. It makes me laugh, too. 

Yesterday, I didn't feel like doing it for one minute longer. Next Wednesday night, I'll teach that a woman who doesn't feel like it follows through anyway. Today, I'll walk that truth out in living color. 

For the most part, I'm fine. I know I'm called to this and I have a lot of grace to do it. How much help would my teaching be, though, if I'd never followed through with something I didn't feel like doing?

I know what that's like from recent, won't-be-able-to-forget-for-a-while experience.

This morning, I'm thanking God for the struggle of yesterday. On Wednesday, I'll stand before those ladies as a woman who has followed through with her commitment despite how she feels. When I teach, they'll know I'm not just spouting words. I'm sharing the walk of faith I've traveled.

Today, I slept late. In a few minutes, I'll take care of Sam for the morning and, if he's feeling well, I'll load him in my truck and go to the tractor store for an air filter. If not, I'll do what needs to be done and get the air filter later.

It's just a season, not a lifetime, and God has more than enough grace for me to follow through as far as He needs me to go. 

Maybe you have commitments you're tired of keeping, too. We all reach that point from time to time. It's okay to feel that way, but it's very important to keep our word. Why? Because we have a God who does what He says. If we're to be like Him, we'll do what we say, too.

I know there are times when we can't do what we say, but I'm not there. I've had a whiney, selfish moment (well, longer than a moment...more like a day) but that doesn't change the commitment. It doesn't change what I intend to do.

I want to be that woman, that person...the one God can count on to do what she's said she'll do, despite how she feels. Don't you? 

We become that woman with one act of obedience at a time. One little step, followed by one more and one more. Today, I'll take a little step, and another, and another...before you know it, I'll have gone the distance. Quitting may depend on our feelings, but persevering depends on our faith. 

We walk by faith, not sight, and that's what I intend to do today. What about you?

"For we walk by faith, and not by sight... Therefore we make it our aim, whether present or absent, to be well pleasing to Him." 2 Corinthians 5:7,9 nkjv

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When Catastrophe Was Just Barely Avoided

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When Catastrophe Was Just Barely Avoided

We came a little too close to catastrophe for comfort yesterday. 

Since I'm taking care of Sam at my house, I let the Wonder Dogs wander along beside me when I'm outside. They know their limits and abide by them, most of the time. 

Both of the dogs know that going down the hill by the horses is absolutely forbidden. I don't want to keep them from fun. There are more than enough acres to run and play. That bit of the driveway leads to a busy state highway. The prohibition is for their safety.

Maggie is a recovering runaway. She loves to run and, when she gets started, she loses her mind. All she can think of is the joy of running, so she runs, heedless of what awaits her at the end of her jaunt. 

Most of the time, a quick warning can keep her from heading down the hill. Yesterday, though, she was too fast for her own good.

A neighbor stopped by early to look at a wiggly wheel on the tractor. While we were talking on the porch, the hospice aide arrived. In the confusion of the next few minutes, the dogs greeted everyone, ran around in the yard, and went in the house with the aide. 

Or so I thought. 

The neighbor left and I went back inside. Mamie was by the door, waiting for me, but Maggie was nowhere to be found. I called and searched, as dread built in my heart. Had she run after the neighbor's truck?

Yes. She had.

I jumped in my truck and headed toward the highway. A vehicle was stopped on the side of the road and a woman had gotten out. Maggie was running scared in the opposite direction, the woman heading along behind her. I called her name and Maggie ran to me. 

"I just wanted be sure she didn't hurt," the woman told me.

I thanked her, hugged Maggie, and jumped in the truck, headed for home. My heart was beating hard and fast. I blinked back tears. 

Catastrophe avoided. Just barely.

Since Maggie had clearly proved herself untrustworthy, I made her go out on a leash after that. She'll be leashed for a long time, and she seemed to know that. 

She pouted all day, and I let her.

Last night, Mamie and I headed upstairs. The dogs usually sleep on the foot of my bed, but Maggie curled up on the dog bed in the kitchen instead, still pouting. 

Finally, I called her. "Maggie, aren't you going with us?" She looked up, but didn't move off the bed.

At last, I picked her up and held her close. "Come on, Maggie." She wagged her tail and snuggled in to my shoulder.

I'm ashamed of how like this silly dog I am. I hate to think how many times I've been stopped short of a bad decision by the conviction of the Holy Spirit, then held myself aloof from the sweet reunion Our Lord offered. 

Deep gratitude is not always my first response to conviction of sin, but it should be.

God's patience with me is an amazing gift. Even when I don't immediately embrace quiet and the deep prayer time He desires, He continues to draw me back, ready to restore in an instant. 

God never uses a time-out to discipline me. Instead, His conviction and discipline are designed to draw me closer, deeper. 

We have a good Father who loves His children enough to correct when necessary to keep us in close relationship. Today, let's stop long enough to thank Him for the blessing of discipline and the prevenient grace that draws us close. Put pouting aside and snuggle in to the One who loves us most. 

Let's bow our heads. Bend our knees. Draw near to Him, for He waits to draw near to us. 

"Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." James 4:8 esv

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Caregiver Chronicles: The Rollercoaster of Joy in Obedience 

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.

Caregiver Chronicles: The Rollercoaster of Joy in Obedience

Little more than four weeks ago, I sat in my freshly-emptied dining room and wept. I waited for the hospital bed, oxygen compressor, and death to arrive.  Sam Wiley, my neighbor and former employee was moving to my home for his final days. 

That night, I expected our remaining time together would be short. Now, I'm not so sure, and I'm okay with that. 

It's amazing what love and good food can do. Sam's gained weight and hope, strength and peace. 

Not every day is good, of course. One day this week, he was so confused he didn't know where he was, so weak he couldn't stand up. Yesterday, his mind was perfectly clear. He was stronger, able to stand without assistance, and walk using his walker. 

This journey of caregiving is a rollercoaster with valleys of grief and peaks of great joy.

I wouldn't change it for anything, because God is changing me through this "short term mission trip" of caregiving. 

I'm so much more aware of the blessings God bestows with such lavish abandon...things for which we rarely give thanks. Even the way the seeds are arranged in the watermelon have been a blessing to me...the short hair that dries fast on my dogs...the countless stories God has given me that are literally bulging out of file cabinets and, on re-reading, surprise me with His grace all over again.

I am shockingly, outrageously blessed. I'm trying hard to thank God for every single blessing, but it's impossible, for there are far too many to list, even in prayer.

Yesterday, as I wrote my most-days-update for Home Office, I realized I'm living in the zone I most love...

where I'm breathing the breath of God and seeing His hand in mine on a daily basis...

where the answer to my prayer is on its way before it's out of my mind, much less my mouth...

Even when I'm exhausted and collapsing, I know how blessed I am, and I'm unutterably grateful to be doing exactly what I'm doing, exactly where I'm doing it, and in this very unexpected but beautiful way.

Yes, I have bedside commodes to empty, a patient to lift, meals to prepare and puree, and mountains of laundry to wash, but I hope I never go back to the frantic-paced life I had before this sweet time. 

I know this oasis of good days won't last forever. Even in the hard days, though, there is such sweetness in this service. Because I'm doing exactly what I'm called to do, there is more than enough grace, strength, and love for every day. 

People often ask me, "How are you doing this?" and I always say, "I'm called to it, and God's helping me." I wasn't afraid at the start, and I'm not afraid now, but there was a time when fear could have prevented this sweet place in my life.

When God calls us to something difficult, the enemy of our souls wants to prevent it at all costs because of how God will use our obedience, both in us and in those who watch us obey. Fear is a common tactic. "That's too hard." "It will be terrible work." "You'll be trapped in your house for months."

It's nothing more than a tactic. We don't have to embrace it. There's no need to disobey when fear comes knocking.

Has God called you to do something that seems hard? Does fear threaten when you consider obedience? You can be certain of one thing. Fear does not come from God. If fear hovers, refuse its temptation and follow where God leads.

Hard or easy, He has promised to be with us, no matter where He leads. I know that from experience. He is here, on good days and on hard ones, and His presence makes it worth it. 

Today, let's consider what God has called us to do. Does it seem hard? Do it any way. Is it overwhelming? Press on anyway. Are we afraid? Walk past fear and follow. The path of obedience may seem like a rollercoaster some days, but it's a path filled with joy, and it's worth it.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for Thou art with me." Psalm 23:4 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Caregiver Chronicles: The Four Week Anniversary 

If you're new to this series, you can read about how it started here: When the Time to Move Finally Comes

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.
#Sam 

Caregiver Chronicles: The Four-Week Anniversary

Sam Wiley one Christmas morning a few years ago. 

Yesterday was the four-week anniversary of Sam moving to my house. As you may know, if you've been reading this blog for a while, Sam is my 87-year-old neighbor who's health is failing. He's on hospice now and isn't able to live alone anymore. 

You can read about his move here: When the Time to Move Finally Comes

I love that picture of Sam (above). He was still strong and active and enjoying life. His wife was still living, and he still laughed a lot. He still took his wife out to eat almost every week. He still joked with his coffee-drinking-buddies at the local store almost every day.

Life has changed, and he's not sure it's for the better. His parents, siblings, wife and most of his friends have left this earth for eternity. 

He misses the days of breaking horses, riding the tractor, fishing in the lake, and catching two fish with one cast. When he tells those stories, the things he loved come back to life again.

We're not just reviewing the past, however. We're looking toward the future. Earlier this week, Sam said something that took me by surprise. "I guess you know I'll be better off dead." For a moment, I thought he was depressed, but he wasn't. He was looking toward heaven. 

We paused for a few minutes and pondered all that's to come. Sam loves gospel music and, in heaven, there'll be the best music possible. Sam loves gardening, growing vegetables, and growing azaleas. In heaven, there'll be trees along the river of life with a different fruit every month. He misses his family and friends. In heaven, he'll have a happy reunion with the people he loves the most.

The funny and poignant stories I've written make it may sound like it's been a lovely four weeks. It has been a wonderful time, but it hasn't been easy. Someone asked me yesterday, "How do you do this?" 

My answer, "God called me to it. I'm just doing unto as I want to be done unto."

Sam's had sleepless nights after napping through the day, grief as his body continues to weaken, fear when he's confused, loneliness when he has fewer visitors than he hoped. 

I've had all those emotions along with him, plus a sense of isolation when I can't leave him alone and there's no one to sit with him a few hours, sore muscles from lifting a man a foot taller than I, uncertainty when hard decisions must be made and Sam can't help make them, grief that my way of life since 1989 has changed forever. 

There will never be another Sam. He always told me there would be, and I believed him because I wanted him to be right. I know now that Sam was wrong. 

Sam has the heart of a gentleman and the humility of a servant. He took delight in teaching me new skills. I learned to set a trotline, shoot a gun, and plant a garden from Sam. He took just as much delight in doing the dirty jobs he considered beneath a lady. He protected me, sometimes more than I wanted.

Until he had a subdural hematoma in 2004, I had never taken out my own garbage. I'd never mowed my own grass. Never driven the tractor. Never built a barbed wire fence. I'd rarely been to the feed store for myself and never unloaded hundreds of pounds of feed at a time.

After he had surgery, I had a crash-course in Sam-work. I'm a better woman for it, but I still miss the days when Sam served with such quiet joy.

It would be easy to miss the blessings of the past few weeks in the midst of everything that's been going on, but we're savoring those, too.

The body of Christ has surrounded us with care and assistance and the kind of food Sam loves. Our new hospice provider's staff has loved us, been patient with us, and made us feel both safe and optimistic. We have all the equipment we need, from bedside table to comfy recliner to electric hospital bed, and a good bit more. 


We have peace, hope, love. 

Not all our tears have been sad tears. We've had some happy tears, too. We rejoice when he can stand alone, change his clothes without assistance, eat a full meal. We're excited when he knows where he is and why. 

We still celebrate our victories.

You've journeyed with us, and we're grateful. You've encouraged us, given us hands-on assistance, and prayed us through. We couldn't have made it this far without you, and we're both eternally grateful. 

We have a ways to go, so I'm hoping you'll be patient as I write (far too often) about our trials and victories. I hope you'll read alternate topics when this part of my journey is too painful to write about. I hoping you'll celebrate with us and, when times are hard, I hope you'll weep with us.

Most of all, I'm hoping you'll keep us in your prayers. 

"Bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2 ESV
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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When Andy the Pig Smelled Like a Pig

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.
#Sam 

When Andy The Pig Smelled Like a Pig

"That pig's gonna stink," people told me before Andy arrived.

"Yeah, but I'll only have him four to six weeks while he grows." How bad can it be? I thought. 

I was a little over half-way to the barn when an unpleasant odor wafted my way. It grew stronger with every step. By the time I reached the back stall on the left, the stench was nearly overpowering.

Andy smelled like a pig. Literally.

That's because Andy was a pig. 

As long as I cleaned Andy's stall every day and distributed the waste outside the barn, I kept the odor down. This particular day, however, I'd skipped the scooping for a few days.

Hiding the evidence of Andy's pigness didn't change the facts. Andy was a pig. He smelled like what he was. The longer he was in the barn, the more my barn smelled like Andy, too.

The Apostle Paul said that, like Andy, Christians have an aroma, too, and it's not always pleasant. 

"For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; to the one an aroma from death to death; to the other from life to life..." 2 Corinthians 2:15,16 nasb

To people who don't know Christ, we Christians emit an "aroma" like rotting corpses. 

Ponder that for a moment.

Of course, we don't literally smell like a corpse, but to many people, Christians aren't as attractive as we might hope. 

There's one person who stands out in my mind in my pre-Jesus days. He was ardently evangelical with his stack of Four Spiritual Law booklets, determined to get me to "pray the prayer." 

I wouldn't.

I'd been raised in church. I knew a written prayer wouldn't save you. I knew there should be something more than a bunch of words in a booklet, but because the words were all he presented to me, I thought it was all he had. The only fragrance I could detect in his life was the aroma from death to death.

I know better now. I wish that guy with the booklet had told me about a relationship with Jesus. I've often wondered why he didn't. Maybe he didn't know, either. Over the years, I've prayed Booklet Man would find out about Jesus, too.  

Yes. There's a place for tracts, booklets, and evangelical tools, but the first century church didn't spread around the world because of words on scrolls and parchments. The church spread because one person told another person how Jesus had changed his life, and he/she backed it up by the love they demonstrated.

An aroma of death isn't pleasant. I believe we dissipate it, in a powerful way, by the love we share. Remember the woman with the alabaster vial? Her gift of extravagant love still emits an aroma of life, more than two thousands years later. 

That's the kind of aroma I want to leave behind, too - the lovely fragrance of extravagant love. 

Do those outside the church see us love each other, and them, in remarkable ways? Is love the fruit of the spirit we most exhibit?  

Is there enough of an aroma of Christ in my life for others to detect? Is love an easily recognizable fruit of the Spirit in me?

If not, we have some work to do, and it begins with an ever-deepening relationship with Jesus.

Today, let's celebrate our Savior and invite others to know Him, too.

"By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." John 13:35

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Thoughts on the Sun, the Moon, and Totality

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

#Jesus

Thoughts on The Sun, The Moon, and Totality

The fascination with the solar eclipse has surprised me. I'm especially surprised by the stampede to get eclipse glasses, but I have to admit that I did include a pair on my grocery order last week. The box store was already out. 

After I saw a pair of what is passing for "protective eyewear," I thought it was just as well. I love seeing, and can't imagine trusting my eyes to cardboard and plastic. I'm not "watching" today's celestial event.

Please bear the preciousness of vision in mind when you go outside to watch the eclipse. 

I know the eclipse is big news, but I've had my hands full with Sam lately. I haven't spent much time with news outlets. This weekend, I saw an advertisement about "America's Eclipse," and laughed. Really, we don't "own" the eclipse and we can do nothing to control it or direct it. It may pass across our nation, but it's God's sun and God's moon, and it's His eclipse. He's is charge of directing it.

We'd do well to get our possessive pronouns correct. Just saying.

I have to confess I'm a little nervous about the eclipse. I've seen an eclipse before, but the eclipse that keeps coming to mind is the one that happened when Jesus was on the cross. 

One of the criminals mocked Jesus, ""Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us." The other one said, "Aren't you afraid of God? This man is innocent. Remember me, Jesus, when you come into your kingdom." And Jesus said, "Today, you'll be with me in Paradise."

Their conversation took place around noon that dreadful Friday, and "darkness fell across the whole land." It stayed dark for three hours, "the sun being obscured." Those words describe a total eclipse of the sun, just like what we're expecting today. (Luke 39-45)

It was an entirely new kind of totality. 

Sin was paid for in totality. 

Redemption was purchased in totality.

Death was conquered in totality.

God's love was demonstrated in totality.

When we focus on totality, we'd do well to let the sign of the sun and the moon point us to the totality of our Lord Jesus Christ. His love. His power. His mercy. His grace.

Today, God will direct another total eclipse of the sun. His powerful act will be visible across our nation. Whether you watch it or not, remember this: The total eclipse is, like all of nature, a sign that points straight to God. 

We'd do well to fall on our knees before Him in honor and worship of the one who holds the sun, moon, and stars in His loving hands. 

The sun and the moon will demonstrate the totality of God for all to see today. When we look up, let's focus our eyes on Him.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands." Psalm 19:1

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Please like and share to extend our digital reach. 

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Guest Blogger Greg Pharr: When the Answer to Your Prayer is Waiting by the Side of the Road 

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

Guest Blogger Greg Pharr: When the Answer to Your Prayer is Waiting By the Side of the Road

Jeremiah 33:3 – “Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.

We had gone to Haleyville, Al. late one afternoon to look at a car that was for sale. It was dark as we headed back to Belmont on a rural country road.   As I dimmed the headlights, they went completely dark.  

My uncle Gene and our friend Willie and I pulled off the side of the road and soon discovered the problem. The dimmer switch had gone bad.  

No headlights!   

I made a statement that, if we just had a short piece of wire, I could bypass the dimmer switch and get home.  Uncle Gene prayed and asked God to provide us with what we needed to fix the headlight.  

As he shined our small flashlight on the ground in front of him, there was the exact size wire we needed.   The ends were already peeled off and didn’t need to be cut, making our repair job quicker. Soon, we were on our way home.

The Lord delights in answering our prayers.  Franklin Graham said “Prayer is the most powerful resource we have in this life….it unleashes the spiritual dynamite that obliterates darkness and despair.”  

God cares about a wire to fix a headlight, He cares about our smallest and greatest needs, and He cares about the needs of the pilgrims.  With God all things are possible.   

Prayer ---Lord, help us pray with power.   Help us desire that sweet intimacy with You.   Help us crawl up in Your lap, put our ear to Your chest so we can hear what is on Your heart for us to pray about today.  Lord, we thank You that with you all things are possible.

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Guest Blogger Greg Pharr and his wife live in Belmont MS.

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Please like and share to extend our digital reach. 

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Caregiver Chronicles: Choosing Familiar and Rejecting Change

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Middle East, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line