A Caregiver's Prayer (Number 45 in a series)

"And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Matthew 25:40 (KJV).


I'm fighting my share of battles these days as I watch my mother decline. Even when she is at her most hurtful and demanding, I must remind myself that I am not only caring for her; I am caring for Jesus through her. I don't always succeed as well as I desire.

For my fellow caregivers everywhere, as well as myself, I offer this prayer.

A Caregiver’s Prayer

Heavenly Father,

Today I look on a face I love without the person I love behind it. Today I seek to provide my loved one’s needs, not knowing if I am even recognized. Today I move one day closer to “Farewell.”

Please help me to remember the heart and soul now hidden from me. Remind me when I don’t have a name in my loved one’s eyes that I have a name in You. Give me strength to do what I must do to provide nourishment and comfort, even when I must do battle with a seeming stranger to do so. Give me patience with the lack of recognition and understanding, with the presence of confusion and fear.

Father, give me cognizance of those flashes of the one who used to be, that I may rejoice in a moment’s gift. Give me kindness when the stranger returns. Please remind me that the odd behavior of one I once knew so well comes not from the heart but from the condition now presenting itself.

Make my touch gentle, my voice soft, my thoughts loving. Help me to fight the demons of exhaustion, frustration and depression so that I may overcome them in Your mighty Name.

When I grow discouraged, Father, please lift me up. When I grow impatient, please slow me down. Help me at all times to be Your hands and feet to the one who is drawing ever nearer to Your Throne. Remind me that what I do here, I do to Your glory and as though I do it for You, as well. Remind me to praise you for the opportunity to serve. So many don't get the chance to say "Good-bye," much less show their love through providing care.

Each time I leave the bedside, remind me to say “I love you.” This may be the moment when my loved one understands. It may be the last chance I have to say it. It will always be a reminder, even in my darkest moments.

And, dear Father, when the time comes to let go, please remind me that we will meet again in Your presence. Comfort me with Your care. Let me hold to the good memories until the day we have the opportunity to make perfect ones, in Your paradise.

In the name of Your Precious Son Jesus I ask these things,

Amen.
 
Copyright 2010 Mary Beth Magee

Be Kind (Number 43 in a series)

“Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, even as God also in Christ forgave you.” Ephesians 4:31-32 (American Standard Version)

As my mother’s dementia deepens, she is increasingly argumentative and demanding. She “sees” things and people and gets quite upset when we tell her there isn’t anything or anyone there. She has trouble completing sentences.

Verse 31 of Ephesians 4 is almost a litany of her behavior: bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, railing and malice. Not much that I do is right, according to her evaluation. Her pillows are too high, then too low. The room is too cold, then too hot. Her clothes are too big or too tight. And so the day passes.

As she goes on and on, the temptation is to respond in kind, to stand up to her and give her as good as she gives me. I am ashamed to say that there are moments when I yield to the temptation and hear myself scolding back at her, considerably louder than I ought to address her.

Then I remember the verse that was so often a memory verse: “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.” The King James Version was the one we used back when I was a Sunday School child. Ephesians 4:32 pops into my head and I remember I should be tenderhearted toward the stranger who now inhabits my mother’s body.

There are two important parts to that verse. The first is clear; we should be kind to each other. The second part is equally clear and equally important. Forgive as we have been forgiven. Oops.

There are times when I am full of those verse 31 feelings, too. I am angry that my mother is in such a condition and I am helpless against it. I clamor about the unfairness of being laid off at my age and how useless I feel to be unemployed. Yet God, through the love He bears His Son, forgives me those unkind feelings. How can I do less for my mother?

Take time to be kind to someone today, someone who doesn’t seem to deserve your kindness. I can promise you they need it. Just as you have received the kindness of God’s forgiveness because you needed it.

Father, we thank You for Your great kindness which You give to us through Christ Jesus. Help us to pass the kindness along to others, and to forgive as we have been forgiven.

© 2009 Mary Beth Magee

Frustration (Number 39 in a series)

“In my distress I cried unto the LORD, and he heard me. Deliver my soul, O LORD…” Psalm 120:1-2a (KJV)

My mother has good days and she has bad days. When she has a bad day, it means I will have a bad day as well. I love her dearly, but sometimes she exhausts me with her demands.

She is too cold, but the covers I put on her are too heavy.

She asks for water while I am balancing a measuring cup and her liquid medication, and gets upset when I stop to put down the cup and bottle to get her water.

She doesn’t like the clothes I picked out for her to wear, but gets angry and accuses me of being ‘mean’ to her when I suggest she pick out something she would prefer.

She is restless and goes from bed to chair to bed, up and down, a restless wraith haunting my soul with her discomfort.

Do I sound as though I’m whining? In a way, I am. I get frustrated with not being able to fix things for her, to make everything all right again. My frustration expresses itself in a ‘poor me pity party.’

Finally, I do what I should have done in the first place. I remember to turn it over to God. He feels Mama’s pain and restlessness. He knows my aggravation. He loves us both. When I ask, He calms my heart and gives me an added dose of patience to deal with Mama’s moods.

Do you have a source of frustration, a problem you can’t seem to solve? Cry out to Him. He will hear and help. Perhaps He will calm the storm, as He did for the disciples. Perhaps He will calm you.

Thank you, Father, for the peace You bring us. Help us to remember where to turn when the problems mount and aggravation grows. Thank you for loving us even when we are most unlovable. Thank you for hearing our call.

©2009 Mary Beth Magee

The Best Laid Plans (Number 18 in a series)

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.” Luke 10: 33-35 (KJV)

When I arrived in California to help care for my mother, I envisioned hours spent in writing as I sat near her, ready to meet any need she may have. My sister had reported that Mama did little more than sleep between her feedings (through a percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy - or PEG - tube).

Reality is somewhat different than my imaginings. Mama only sleeps intermittently (even at night!). She talks in her sleep, often crying out as though in distress or pain. She requires help ambulating to and from her bedside commode chair. Sometimes we can convince her to walk a little more, into the living room or perhaps into her bathroom for a quick “spit bath” in the sink.

Occasionally, Mama develops pain in her legs or feet. We use lavender oil or a chamomile based cream to massage the ailing part. Sometimes she just craves the human touch of someone holding her hand.

She imagines strange people in the room, requiring me to order them out or check on what they are doing. There are “accidents” requiring her bed to be changed, sometimes numerous times a day. The resultant loads of laundry must be washed, dried, folded and put away.

Another problem is the blockage in her esophagus, the reason the PEG tube was installed. The tube takes care of getting her nutrition, but it cannot help her feeling of needing to burp. So we have any number of antics to try to dislodge reluctant air bubbles. We try walking, getting up and down, patting her on the back and anything else we can think of to try to clear the bubble.

These interruptions can come at any moment. My concentration gets broken; whatever I’m working on gets set aside. Most of the writing I planned to get done is still waiting for me.

I wonder if the Samaritan had plans that day, on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho? Whatever they were, he put them aside to care for the man who had fallen among thieves. In putting his own plans on hold, he kept the appointment God had for him. The compassion he demonstrated has come to mean someone who cares above and beyond expectations – the Good Samaritan. Each time my plans get rearranged, I try to remember the Good Samaritan and open my heart to God’s plans.

Father, thank you for having the Master Plan. Please forgive me those times when I consider my own plans to be the most important things in the world. Help me to look to You for the right “next step” and not my own thoughts.

© 2008 Mary Beth Magee

The Escape Artist (Number 17 in a series)

“The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” II Peter 3:9 (KJV)

My mother has become something of an escape artist, in spite of our best efforts. She has fallen several times while trying to get out of bed during the night. My sister and I have tried any number of ways to keep her safe.

We have resorted to a baby monitor in her room so that she can call for assistance if she needs to get up during the night. We got a hospital bed with side rails to try to keep her from getting up and wandering around without someone to help her stay upright.

She evades the monitor by not saying anything as she sneaks out of the bed. She takes advantage of the foot-long gap between the end of the rail and the foot of the bed to slither, snakelike, out into the room. On occasion, she tries to slip out under the rail, resulting in being caught like a fox in a trap – unable to get out or go back into the bed.

Some mornings, I come into the room to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling as though she were sitting at a desk. One morning, I found her on her knees, with her shoulders wedged between the rail and the frame. And some heart-stopping mornings I find her on the floor. She has made good her escape from the bed, only to find her strength spent.

God has blessed us. Mama seems to sink to the floor, rather than fall, on most occasions. She has suffered no broken bones, only some minor abrasions and bruising. But we fear the time of a solid fall or a piece of furniture in the way. So we continue trying to protect her and she continues trying to escape.

I can’t help but be reminded of God and His love for us. We keep trying to escape His love. He keeps opening His arms to bring us back to His protection. We have His promise to keep making the offer of eternal life to us, because He is faithful and unwilling to let any of us go to eternal death.

Mama has the underlying cause of dementia to spur her attempts to “escape;” what reason can any of us use to justify trying to escape God? Yet we do, more often than we would probably admit. Each time we do what we find expedient rather than what He has told us is right, we are trying to escape.

Father, please forgive me when I fight Your will and try to do things my own way. Remind me of Your constant love and care. Help me to rest in the knowledge of Your goodness. And thank you so much for watching over Mama!

© 2009 Mary Beth Magee