Lessons from Caregiving, #22: The Ministry of the Spirit

(This post is part of a series. For previous posts in the series please see #1, #2., #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16, #17, #18, #19, #20, #21)

As this terrible disease has progressed, I've had a front row seat to something pretty amazing. 

It began when a dear friend from church, who had come as a brother to help with some household tasks, found himself clutching my husband's hands and looking into his eyes. "I could see the love there," he told me the next day at church. 

Similar stories have become common among visitors. People he hasn't seen in years have looked into his eyes and found joy at a moment of recognition. Individuals who become emotional often find him grabbing their hands or stroking their arms to comfort them. Strangers who come to our home as caregivers have found him intently trying hard to communicate words of encouragement. And while he is basically non-verbal, he still gets so much joy singing a hymn for visitors, even when he can only manage a couple of lines. 

I've realized that what I'm witnessing is probably as close to the pure, unhindered ministry of the Holy Spirit as I may ever see on this earth. Because of this disease, my husband cannot logically reason, make decisions, use his limbs to any significant degree, control his emotions, or speak most of the time - yet what is untouched is his soul. The presence of the Holy Spirit in him is one of the most vibrant realities I have ever experienced.

This has been such a beautiful reminder of the power of presence, of just holding someone's hand, of genuine love. What I'm learning as I observe this is the power of just letting the Holy Spirit do His work through us. I often overthink ministry and sometimes talk myself out of what God might be trying to do through me. I make it harder, not easier, and anything that He does through me is most often in spite of me! 

I'm also learning so much about surrender. My husband has shown the gift of faith in so many ways over the years we've been together, but nothing like what I see now as he has surrendered to God and allowed himself to be cared for by others. Yet as Paul wrote, even as the outer man fades away, his inner person is being renewed day by day. The Holy Spirit is ministering to him, as much as through him. 

I am all about loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength - but when it comes down to it, to minister to another human being all He really needs is my heart, surrendered to Him. 

Lessons from Caregiving, #21: It Gets Messy

(This post is part of a series. For previous posts in the series please see #1, #2., #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16, #17, #18, #19, #20)

A few months ago, our family faced a difficult decision about my husband's care. His dementia had reached "end stage" which qualified him for hospice care, but to be eligible we had to decide that we would not treat any issues that arose beyond comfort care. As we wrestled with the decision, we heavily weighed our goal of keeping him at home against the risks associated with life-extending treatments in dementia patients.

In the midst of our processing, we were given some wise advice: "From here on out, every decision gets messy." That has proven true in a direct sense, as we have wrestled with decision after decision and sometimes just looked at each other and reminded ourselves of that advice: "Either way, it's messy".

That advice has also proven true on less obvious levels. The emotional processing, The spiritual wrestling. Sometimes, just answering the question, "How are you?" can feel pretty messy. You see, from a distance you just see the lessons I've learned. The big picture with all the hues and shadows and accents. Up close, you see the mess. The tangled underside of the tapestry. When you ask, "How are you?" I get to decide how much of the mess to show you.

One reason I blog is my own "messy processing". It's my way of inviting you in to my world, to support close up instead of from a distance. I figure if you take the time to read my blog, you either really love me, or are another caregiver who found this site and is trying to find a connection.

So here's my takeaways on this lesson: I'm learning to live with messy. I'm learning to accept that I cannot choose which emotion will hit me, and when. The best I can do is identify where I am in the process of grief, and ride the wave. I'm learning to accept that sometimes the medical choices will be between bad and worse, with no option that I really like. I'm learning that wrestling with God can look like a temper tantrum on Saturday morning and a stunningly-fast turnaround with just the words I need on Saturday afternoon. I'm learning that sleep makes the mess more bearable.

Most importantly, I'm learning to anchor myself on truths outside my mess - truths about the character and heart of my God. Truths that remind me that He is FOR me, that He is good, that when He doesn't deliver from a trial, He walks with me through it. Most of all, I remind myself that He isn't just a God who is 'up there". In the Incarnation, He became a God who entered into our messy world, with all its limited options, and knows exactly what it feels like to walk out this life in a fallen world. A world He came to redeem. A world that He promises can be filled with that redemption even now, even today, even in the middle of my mess.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. - John 10:10