Caregiver Chronicles: Doing This Day Today

Great day Monday. Horrible day Tuesday. Better day Wednesday. I don't like roller coasters at all, and the one we've been on is hard. If you've ever been a caregiver, you know about this. Even if you've been a parent of a toddler, you know how unpredictable days can be.

Last night, I climbed into bed exhausted by the uncertainty of the day. Could we make it? That had been my question all day. 

Sam didn't feel good. He was miserable most of the day, and unusually quiet. He spent a lot of time pondering the future. He didn't want to eat. He insisted he could walk and refused help. Once, he crashed into the china cabinet because of his insistence to "do it myself." Thank God the glass didn't break. When he had to admit he needed help, it was yet another blow.

I had errands to run, so we loaded up and drove to Tupelo. Sam sat in the car while I dashed into the buildings, did my business, and dashed back out. "This is helping me," he insisted. It was a break in the monotony of his sick room.

"I just have to do today," I told myself over and over again. And I did it. One hour at a time.

Last night, I lay in bed, prayed, and thought back over the day. There had been some hard times, but, as a whole, it hadn't been a bad day. We'd taken it one moment at a time, and done it.

It's the way I write a book. I have a picture of the whole story in my head, but the writing is done one scene at a time. A situation arises, and the characters respond as the author directs. 

That's how I'm facing today. It's a "get some work done at home" day. There are goals to accomplish, but we're taking it one scene at a time. Today, when situations arise, I'll direct myself to respond in a patient and godly manner. 

I'm choosing how my part of the scene will go.

When I look at the big picture of taking care of Sam from now until his death, however far away that is, it's overwhelming. The changes it requires in my life are hard, and they aren't always enjoyable. If I look at the long run, it's too difficult, and an easier way seems very attractive.

This isn't a long run, however. It's a series of short sprints, taken one day at a time.

I don't have to worry about tomorrow, or the day after that. I don't have to fret about next week. All I have to concern myself with is today, and I can do this day, one step at a time.

I've been in hard situations before. They seemed interminable. All I could see was the long haul, and it appeared too hard to do. I wonder now if I might've had a different response and a better outcome if I'd taken those hard situations in smaller increments. Could I have found my way through in a more godly manner? 

No matter what our circumstances, no matter what problems we encounter, we don't solve them (or survive them) instantly. We do it a day, an hour, at a time. 

If you're in a hard place, take your eyes off the endpoint and put them firmly on this hour. Live it to the best of your ability. Respond to the challenges with the most godly behavior possible. Honor God in this moment, and deal with the next when it comes. 

Can we make it? Yes, we can. We're doing this day today. We'll worry about tomorrow when it comes.

"Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself..." Matthew 6:34 nasb
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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: When you Have to Keep Choosing to Go the Distance

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: One Step at a Time

We spilled out of the bus at the foot of the massive rock on which Masada was built more than 2000 years ago. We could've walked to the cable car that would take us to the top, but we were parked so close to the steps. Climbing the stairs seemed the logical choice, until we were half-way up.

The view was breathtaking, if the steps hadn't already taken your breath. The only way to the top, where the real views were, was to the keep walking. I'd been to Masada before, and I remembered looking over the expanse of the Dead Sea. I remembered marveling at the building expertise of first century architects who had included everything from rainwater-filled cisterns to a sauna, swimming pool, and palaces. It was worth seeing again.

I kept walking because I wanted what was at the end of the trail.

That's how Sam and I are doing this hard end-of-life work. We want the blessings that await us, so we're pressing on, even when it's difficult. We had two good nights this week, when we were only up once during the night. If you count the time from when he went to bed until he's out of bed in the morning, Sam was up four times last night. So was I.

Caregivers know this routine well, as do parents of infants. It's not unusual, but it is hard, because disrupted sleep takes a toll. Sam will nap today and get caught up. I won't, and it's okay. It's just a season, and God wouldn't have entrusted it to us if He didn't expect us to see it through. 

Not all seemingly-interminable climbs in life involve caregiving. Whether it's a difficult employment, a troubled relationship, a rebellious child, or a chronic illness, we all have something that presents a challenge that "feels" insurmountable. If we believe what we say we believe about our God, we know it's not impossible. 

We make our way through our trials the same way I reached the top at Masada. One step at a time. Even when those steps are hard to make.

No matter how difficult our circumstances, we must keep our eyes on the goal, not the path. Press on. Blessings await at the end of the road.

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:14 niv

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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: Missing Laila

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: When Short Becomes Long

(If you're new to these stories, there are a few links below to get you caught up.)

Ryan (my son), family, friends, the farm, animals, ministry, writing. Life was busy and fun and full to overflowing. I needed to slow down some, even I will admit that, but I thought life was just about perfect.

And then...

Jamie, Sam's wife died two years ago and his slow decline in health turned into a rapid plummet downward. The speed and severity stunned me. 

On June 26th, 2017, when Sam moved to my house, I assessed his situation. He was so near death that I doubted he could live more than a few weeks. That's how bad it was. 

As a physician, I can only formulate a prognosis based on the situation at the moment. I couldn't imagine the difference love and personal care could make. It's been shocking.

My dining room is now Sam's "suite." He gets three meals a day, plenty of protein, and he no longer has to manage the affairs of daily life. 

He's thrived. He's gained enough weight that his pants no longer fall down without a belt. His waistbands are getting snug. He smiles more. Jokes some. Says thank you. Sam loves this new life of his, partly because it's relieved so many burdens. 

I haven't found it quite so easy. I'm up almost every night at least once, and usually twice (or more) to help him. I'm preparing more meals than I ever dreamed I'd prepare, and planning my schedule around an elderly neighbor who requires a major undertaking to transport outside my home. Because he's in my dining room, and he rises late and retires early, moving around my house has been sharply altered, as have my routines.

Can I be honest here? I love Sam, but I don't love getting up in the middle of the night, emptying potty chairs, or lifting a wheelchair in and out of my truck. I don't love that, because I can't leave him behind, I rarely have more than a few minutes to myself. 

Who would?

I don't love that I can't make a spontaneous trip or just dash to the grocery. Even a trip to the feed store, which I'll make today, will begin by getting Sam dressed, fed, and ready, loading him into the wheelchair, transferring him to the truck, lifting the wheelchair partly over my head, and putting it in the truck. I'll do it all again in reverse to get him in the store, make my feed purchase, then repeat to get him back in the truck. When we get home, I'll do the unload one more time. Finally, I'll go to the barn to unload the feed and put it in bins.

When I'm done, I'll get back to my "real" work, because I'm still working full-time from home. 

It's huge to me, but there are thousands of people giving care in their homes everyday. They do the same things I do, and without complaint. They're just as tired.

I say all that to tell you I've had an epiphany this week. Sam's health has improved. He's very frail but I've stopped checking to see if he's still breathing. He requires intense and personal around-the-clock care, but he can move his own legs into the bed now. 

He's dying, but he's not likely to die in the next day or two. Or the next week or two.

I've come to terms with the reality that this short-term-mission trip has turned into a long-term one. It's not going to be over any time soon.

Last night, Sam flipped through channels, trying to find Wheel of Fortune. He was completely disgusted that football had replaced Wheel. I roamed back and forth, doing chores. I paused to help him with the remote and realized something huge. 

I'm going to make it through.  

We've reached a kind of routine that, though hard, is manageable. I'm not in this alone. People have given helped when I've needed it. God has answered every prayer. There's been a provision for every need and, when a new need arises, there'll be a provision for that, too.

Intense caregiving for my neighbor wasn't my plan for this stage of life, but I've surrendered to God's plan. There's more than enough peace to see me through. More than enough strength. More than enough love.

No matter what you face, you, too, can find this same peace, strength, and love. You, too, can have joy in the midst of a hard time. The linchpin is surrender to God's plan and His ways. When we allow Him to direct our paths, He does more than we can imagine to help us through.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6 
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If you're new to this series, here are links that might be helpful: Keeping My Word and When the Time to Move Finally Comes

Please like and share to extend our digital reach.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The High Maintenance Missionary and the Forgotten Anniversary

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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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Please like and share to extend our digital reach. 

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 Gift of a Day Out

Yesterday was the kind of day I've missed. Because Sam's so unsteady on his feet, I haven't left him alone for more than a few minutes. He's not a burden at all, but the responsibility is a heavy load. 

Friends have been wonderful about staying with Sam when I need to be out, but, yesterday, I needed a chunk of time.

I missed my last hair appointment and my bangs were in my eyes constantly. I do have scissors and thinning shears, but Lorie (my hairdresser) has warned me off them. I hate to admit it, but the thinning shears were already out. It was all I could do not to start chopping on those bangs.

Since I already had an eye appointment on Tuesday and a missionary I wanted to meet coming in to the office that day, we sandwiched a hair appointment in between. "We'll have to pray for God to send someone to volunteer with Sam," I messaged her. And we did. 

God sent Diane.

My friend, Diane, was in town visiting family for a week, and offered me a chunk of time to get some things done. I was able to make all my appointments and go by the office to do a few things. There was just enough time to go by the feed store to get horse feed, stop by the gas station to fill up my truck, and still get home.

For a few hours, I did what needed to be done to keep my life on track without worrying about anyone else. It was a mini-vacation that gave me more rest than I could have imagined. 

When I returned home, my caregiver mindset was firmly in place again. My sense of humor was back. 

As I moved furniture in preparation for moving Sam's TV and connecting his satellite service, I realized an unexpected truth. I can go the distance, and breaks are an important part of the process.

People have told me, "Even Jesus took breaks," many times, and it's true. Knowing that and being able to do it are two different things. Yesterday, the generous gift of a friend made it possible. 

In the world of caregivers, stepping aside from caregiving isn't always one of the options. Stepping aside for most of a day is rare. If you're not a caregiver, you likely know someone who is. Why not look at your schedule and find a few hours to give in the name of Jesus to the one who is literally being His hands and feet? 

Who in your church or community is giving long-term care to someone in their home? Why not offer a few hours once a month to give them a much-needed break? 

Those 5 1/2 hours yesterday were a gift of incalculable value because I was able to set my burden aside and let someone else carry it for a while. 

Bear one another's burdens. It's what the body of Christ is supposed to do and, when we all do our part, something wonderful happens. The world stands in awe.

Late yesterday, the new social worker stopped by. She encouraged me to take breaks. I tried hard not to laugh as I explained about all the help God has sent me. "The body of Christ has been wonderful," I told her and described some of the things they've done.

"That's what church is supposed to be," she said with admiration in her voice. And she's right. 

"Bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Playful Pig and His Contemptuous Carelessness 

If this is your first time to read about the Sam adventures and the Caregiver Chronicles, you might want to read this post to see how it started: 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

#bodyofChrist 

Caregiver Chronicles: When the Word of God Comes Alive Just When You Need it Most

A beautiful thing happened early this morning. It was so remarkable that I can't stop thinking about it, so, of course, I have to share it with you.

Before I get to this morning's story, though, I have to tell what's been happening at our office. Scotty and Judy Shows have been coming to home office for months to disciple us and help us go even deeper with our faith. 

As part of his teaching, Scotty assigns us a Bible verse to memorize and we're supposed to quote it together the next week.

Frankly, I've been terrible at it.

Half the time I'm out of town or have a meeting and miss the Tuesday Shows Session, so I don't know what we were supposed to memorize. The other part of the time, I've forgotten to write it down or lost the paper I've written it on or just forgotten about memorizing it. Sometimes the verse Scotty wants us to memorize isn't the verse I'm most interested in. 

I've had lots of excuses, but that's all they've been. If I had really wanted to memorize the verses, I could have. (I'm officially apologizing about my failure.)

Yesterday, Scotty did a wonderful thing, and I was left wondering why none of us had thought of it before. He texted us the verse. "Our Scripture memory verse this week is 1 Cor 10:31. Thank you for your faithfulness." 

I immediately looked up the verse and reviewed it. "Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."

There's a lot of punch in that short verse. I was very familiar with the verse so, as I reviewed it, I prayed that its truth would be evident in all I did that day, even though I wasn't doing the kind of "missionary" things I usually do. 

Keep that verse and prayer in mind as I tell this next part.

Sam's hospital bed is downstairs, but my bedroom is upstairs. He'd tried to call me in the night once or twice, but I couldn't hear him. The baby monitor we tried was a complete failure because it picked up every whoosh of the oxygen and kept me awake all night. 

We'd worried that he might really need something and not be able to get me. A week or so ago, a friend suggested I give Sam a bell to call me and, in one of those ricocheting-thought-dances, my brain landed on a doorbell. I found one with a range of 250 feet. I put the button in a bag around Sam's neck and have carried the ringer part with me ever since. 

I can hear the chiming of the bell even at the barn. The only times Sam's rung the bell were by accident until early this morning. I was sound asleep when the gonging bell nearly knocked me out of my bed. My first thought was, "What in the world was that???" Then, at max decibels, it gonged a tune again and I knew. 

It was Sam.

I threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and started yelling, "I hear you, Sam. I'm coming." There's a whole sermon in that, and I might preach it later, but today I'm telling what happened next.

I bolted down the stairs and raced into the dining room, where Sam was sitting up. He'd had a problem in the night that required intervention on my part. The verse I'd pondered all day immediately came to mind and I was filled with such grace that it was utterly remarkable. (I love how God does that, don't you?)

Sam apologized for getting me out of bed in the middle of the night, and I just laughed. "Oh, Sam, I'm a doctor. We're trained to get up in the middle of the night to take care of sick people. It's no big deal. We know how to go right back to sleep." (Please don't use these words as an excuse to wake a doctor. We might know how to do it, but that doesn't mean we like it.)

What's remarkable about those words is that I meant them. I wasn't frustrated or upset or unhappy that I was up in the night. I took care of the problem, changed Sam's bed, and thought how nice it looked with fresh sheets. 

It might be hard to believe that all this happened at 2 in the morning, but it did.

I looked at that freshly made bed and silently prayed that verse. "Let changing the sheets in the middle of the night glorify You, God."

When I put Sam back in bed and snugged the covers up around him, he looked like a little boy. It warmed my heart, and I prayed that verse again. "Let getting Sam snuggled back in bed glorify you, God." 

Since I was up, I decided to empty the potty chair pot and, since God was doing something so sweet, I prayed one more time. "Let emptying this potty chair pot glorify you, God." 

There's where the glory of God really blew me away. All those actions in the middle of the night had the potential to glorify God because they're part of the "whatever you do..." and I saw it in a new way.

I got back in bed, but didn't go to sleep right away. I spent a bit of time thanking God for allowing me to be waked up in the night and to participate in the glory-of-God work. The sweetness of His Spirit and the way that one verse came alive for me was breathtaking. The timing of the hour didn't matter a bit. 

This wasn't the first time I've prayed a verse would come alive in my life, and it wasn't the first time I prayed that my actions would glorify God. It was, however, the first time I prayed that emptying the potty chair pot would glorify God. 

When I emptied that pot with the glory of God in mind, however, I'm pretty sure it did glorify Him.

It's not the "bigness" of the task that glorifies God. It's the heart with which that task is done that brings Him glory.

Today, let's join together in praying that every task to which we put our hand will glorify God. He might need to change our hearts a bit in advance, so let's allow that, too. 

May this be the day we see the glory of God in big and small ways because we're doing it all with love.

"Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Caregiver Chronicles: The Difference Between Living and Dying

If this is your first time to read about the Sam adventures, you might want to read this post to see how it started: 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

Working from Home and Missing the Office

Working from home isn't new to me. I've taken sabbaticals to write before, and spent long months in front of my computer, putting words together to make stories. This time, however, I'm not on a writing sabbatical. I'm home to care for a dying man. 

Unlike practicing medicine, best done in person, a ministry of prayer and outreach doesn't require a specific location. As a Global Outreach missionary, I'm still working. I'm calling this time a "short term mission trip," and it is, with the exception that I'm doing it from the comfort of my own home. 

Part of my mission is the digital outreach of blogging and social media. That's always been done from home, so it's no different. 

By the time I start my day at Home Office, I've been working for hours. My role there begins with morning prayer time. The staff gathers in the board room for a short devotional and to pray for our missionaries and supporters (we pull their name cards from a stack) and for any of our Global family who have specific needs. 

After prayer time, I take the cards and write emails to all those for whom we've prayed and ask about their needs. Some missionaries reply with additional prayer requests. Of course, I pray for them and reply, but I also forward those to home staff.

Once that's accomplished (which takes more time than I ever expected), I move to the work of coordinating the other mission projects that are ongoing, preparing for upcoming speaking engagements, and work on ongoing writing projects. 

The days are long.

I wasn't sure how I could continue those efforts from home, but it's worked out better than I expected. Prayer and Outreach have continued. Most evenings, I write a short term mission trip update for home office so we can stay connected. (And so I can feel a sense of accomplishment in this work of caregiving.)

The thing I've missed, however, is sharing prayer time with the others at Home Office. I'm surprised it took us so long to think of it, but, yesterday, I joined the group via FaceTime. I saw the faces of everyone in the group. We talked together, shared a devotional together, and prayed together. 

I felt connected again. 

After we signed off, I realized how very much I'd missed the people I've grown to love over the last year. I've missed going from office to office to pray for the people and the work in those rooms. I've missed sharing burdens and praying big into the most unlikely of situations. 

I've missed being part of the team, and I savored that time together all day long. 

This morning, I'm pondering the implications of yesterday. If I, as a full-time, in-home caregiver for a mere two weeks, sometimes feel disconnected from the outside world, what about the people who've done it for months? For years?

I'm astounded by the numbers of people who are caring for family members at home, who spend long days and nights doing the hard work of beside care. Lifting, turning, bathing, dressing, washing, folding, cleaning. 

Helping. Loving. 

The body of Christ has been incredible in helping me care for Sam, but what about the people we don't read about online? 

What about the family down the street who's taking care of a grandparent? The mother with a chronically ill child? The wife whose husband has dementia or other illnesses that prevent him from leaving home? 

Who cares for them? Who helps them stay connected?

I don't have answers, at least not yet. Instead, I want to hear from you. Are you an in-home caregiver? How do you stay connected? How do you get relief when you need it? 

If you're not giving care right now, how willing are you to visit the home-bound (patient and caregiver)? Would you be willing to help someone with a respite for a few hours? (sit with the patient and allow the caregiver time to run errands or take a break for lunch with a friend) 

In what creative ways are you willing to be the hands and feet of Jesus?

As I mentioned, I want to hear from you, so comment below or message me. I'm eager to hear what you have to say.

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" Matthew 25:40 niv

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Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Caregiver Chronicles: How Pro-life Are We?

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: Ten Ways to Help a Caregiver

If you've ever been a caregiver, you know there are some things your friends and family do that help so much you can hardly believe it. There may be some things that don't help much, but I haven't had many of those yet.

A few things have been game changers for me. Just before this started, Kandy Walker brought paper plates and gave me "permission" to make this easy on myself. I would never have considered this before, because I'm a silver-and-good-china kind of woman, but I'm using paper plates, bowls, and cups right now, as well as plastic spoons and forks. Not every time, of course, but in general. (I'm sorry to admit this, but I'll worry about the environment again later.)

Disposable products have been a huge help. Otherwise, I would be washing dishes constantly. Unloading the dishwasher is one of my least favorite tasks, so it has decreased that work considerably. I'll go back to regular dishes when this caregiving is over, but for now, I'm going with easy.

Sonja and Jerry Iverson came by yesterday with strawberry shortcake and whipped cream for Sam. They brought everything they needed to serve. I didn't have to find a thing for them. I was shocked when Jerry pulled a disposable bowl and spoon out of his bag. When I realized he and Sonja had brought the bowl so I wouldn't have even one tiny extra duty, I wanted to weep with gratitude.

They didn't hand the bowl of deliciousness to me so I could feed Sam. Jerry picked up the spoon and fed Sam himself. 

On Friday, Jerry came by to sing and pray with Sam. While he was there, I asked him to help me shave Sam. Yesterday, he anticipated the need for another shave, and came equipped with razor, shaving cream, and a towel. They cleaned up after themselves. When he was done, they took the wet towel home with them.

Sonja gave me a beautiful gift yesterday. As they were settling in to serve, she said, "We're here for Sam right now. You can sit with us if you want, but we'd like to give you time to do whatever you need to do." I'm not quite used to that idea yet, but I embraced it. I listened to them sing with Sam from my seat on the screened porch, where I did some long-overdue writing, finished emails to missionaries, and read a book.

It was like a mini-vacation that recharged my soul in ways I never expected.

Later, Bill and Linda Buchanan stopped by. The top part (the bowl) of my birdbath was broken. I'd put it in the wagon but hadn't decided how to dispose of it yet. It was a little too heavy for me to carry, but I'd intended to put it in a garbage bag and, somehow, transport it to the garbage pick up at the road. 

Bill asked about the fractured concrete mess. When I explained, he and Linda announced, "We can carry it together." That's what they did. We put it in a garbage bag and they hauled it off. 

Bill grinned. "That's one more thing off your list." He was right.

In case you've wondered, I'm not writing about this journey with Sam to get a lot of views, so you'll feel sorry for us, or so you'll stop by to see us. I'm writing to help us all understand how to be a caregiver and how to help a caregiver.

Here's ten easy ways to help a caregiver:

1) Give the caregiver permission to make it easy on themselves. Offer tools for "easy" - paper plates, bowls, cups, disposable utensils.

2) Anticipate needs you can meet, and bring what you need to meet them.

3) Take your "mess" with you. Don't leave anything extra for the caregiver to clean up afterwards. (Everyone has done this and it has been a HUGE help.)

4) Ask about the "to-do" list. Pick one thing on the list that you can do, and do it.  

5) Read Scripture. Simply reading thorough a book of the Bible, one chapter at a time, is a great blessing. It tells the caregiver (and the patient) that you'll be back, and it blesses them because Scripture never goes forth without doing a work of some kind.

6) Sing. You don't have to be a concert-quality singer. Bring a CD you enjoy (and a player) and sing along. Familiar hymns are especially appreciated. 

7) Take the entire burden off the caregiver for a few minutes. Thirty minutes to sit on the porch and read a book is a rare luxury for a caregiver, and a priceless gift. 

8) Hugs and encouragement. "You're doing a good job." "I'm proud of you." "I'll be back to help again." Those are words caregivers hear all too seldom. 

9) Be lavish with love. Caregivers are hands-on people. Be generous with hugs.

10) PRAY.This is the most important thing of all. Pray for strength, patience, rest, and whatever else you can think of. Be sure to let the caregiver (and the patient) know you're praying. 

Several people emailed, texted, or messaged me yesterday to let me know they were praying. It was a huge encouragement. After two very hard days, I dreaded yesterday. When it was an easier day, I felt like their prayers had been answered. 

There are people all around us who are caring for loved ones in short-term and long-term situations. They need our help. Body of Christ, Jesus expected us to love each other so lavishly that the world would stand in awe. They'd see our love and say, "I want some of that." 

If we do our part like we're supposed to, onlookers will be drawn to Christ by what they see. If you're not a caregiver, help someone who is, and do it with love.

"By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." John 13:35 nasb
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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Caregiver Chronicles: When the Caregiver Needs Some Care Given 

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