Monday’s Musings—A Caring Life

I have two women that help with the care of my mom. They are gems. Berta is 80 years old. She speaks with a heavy Cuban accent and is Mom’s friend. This morning I heard her reading The Daily Bread to Mom. Later, laughter spilled out of the room.

“Did you change your mother’s doctor appointment.” She asked me as she carried Mom’s calendar into the family room.

“Yes, thanks for asking.” I smiled as I thought of how Berta had ministered to our family over these last four years. But she’s not the only one.

Paula cared for her father who was also a double amputee. Her mom lives with her now. Her mom is totally dependent on Paula for all her needs. She has a feeding tube, takes oxygen, and has to be moved with a hydraulic lift. So Paula gets her mother situated in the morning and then four mornings a week, she comes to our house. I’m glad.

Several years ago, when I was preparing to bring my father home from rehab the first time, I was terrified. It showed as I passed Paula in the hallway at church. She asked about Dad.

“I’m bringing him home in a few weeks and I am so scared! How will I care for him?” I said in between sobs. I especially dreaded the physical aspect of his care. My cheeks reddened at the thought.

“You’ll be all right. That’s the easy part.” She smiled and tilted her head. “It was a privilege to care my father. I still miss him.”

I had no idea what she was talking about since at that time, I had no context. I’ve just caught a glimpse of what she said lately—three years after Dad died.

Sunday, some of the ladies met at my house because we want to minister to caregivers. We’ve decided to start with prayer.

We’re going to go to the source of all comfort. The one that Isaiah talks about in chapter 40: 11, “Like a shepherd He will tend His flock, in His arm He will gather the lambs and carry them in His bosom, He will gently lead the nursing ewes.” We can help, but God is the Great Caregiver.

I think He wants us to start with Paula.

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