Misplaced Gratitude

Sometimes I hate to see my parents’ faces. Well, not really their faces but the look of gratitude on their faces when I do something for them. I want to rage against aging and Alzheimer’s and anything else that makes them feel weak and helpless. I want to cry and tell them that they are strong and valued and fill our lives with so much joy. I want to remind them how often I have relied on their collective wisdom.

How could they forget all of the times that they stayed up with me while I was sick or having an asthma attack or had procrastinated on schoolwork? I wish I could pull out the long list of things that I knew they did for me and the sacrifices they made that they never even told me about. I wish I had kept a list as a reminder to them that they owe me nothing.

So what if I’m bringing you a meal, you gave me 3 for every one I have the privilege of giving you, I cry out in my head. When I clean up a mess, I know there were many more messes that I created that you took care of. This slowing down of your life shouldn’t shame you. It’s time for you to rest on your laurels and allow me the pleasure of doing for you. I need to because day after day when you were giving of yourselves for my benefit, I know my face did not always reflect the same measure of gratitude that I see in yours. So many thank yous went unsaid.

So please don’t thank me for helping you as I’ve seen you help others, myself included. And please don’t look at me as if I’m doing something extraordinary, I’m just doing as I was taught…by you. So when I’m serving you that meal or taking you to the doctor or cleaning up that mess, it’s just my own way of saying a lifetime of thank yous that should have been said. So you see, once again this has become about me and my needs. I need to help you. I am so grateful for the privilege.

From Stressed to Blessed

I hit a wall on Wednesday. Not a literal wall. My life had just become a rollercoaster careening out of control. I was tired of holding on for dear life and wanted off the crazy ride. Wednesdays tend to be appointment days. Some of my kids require more than the average amounts of appointments and my parents, although relatively healthy, still have medical needs.

Usually once a month, I have a Wednesday appointment marathon. This month, however, every provider, counselor, and caregiver was trying to make up time from taking 2 weeks off around Christmas. So, I was having trouble getting anything done because of appointment-mania.

Wednesday dawned and I tried to psych myself up with words of inspiration. “It’ll be great to get these all out of the way.” “These things have waited long enough.” “You’ll be near medical professionals if you keel over from exhaustion.” I rubbed my French press but no genie popped out to offer my 3 wishes so I resolved to just dive in and start the day.

But alas, fate had other plans. Two of my girls awoke sick. I am fortunate to have my family all around me, so I transferred my girls to the sick ward (at my sister, Susan’s house, where she and one of her daughters were also sick). This effectively dropped the piano lesson from my to-do list and made it unlikely that I’d be able to help with the kids club at church that evening but my day was still full.

And so it was that 4 appointments, 1 meal, and many miles later (having run back and forth to drop my son at school and pick up my parents and drop them off) that I pulled in the driveway just as my son was getting off the bus from school. We high-tailed it out to the store to pick up the requisite sick bay supplies: tissues, popsicles, juice, and Oreos (those were for me, don’t judge), bought Chinese food for dinner, picked up the sick kiddos and finally arrived at home with a plan to throw wood on the fire, food at the kids, and hide in my house until Spring. Unfortunately, I arrived home to a trash explosion, compliments of Trixie, our not-quite-as-cute-as-she-was-yesterday-before-the-trash-incident border collie. Then I got 2 urgent phone calls for things that had to be handled by 9PM that night (because not everyone works in Eastern Standard Time).

She put herself in the corner

She put herself in the corner

By the time I made it to bed, I was barely functioning. I forgot about my son’s homework until right before he was going to bed. I never put away the Chinese food leftovers. I didn’t clean up the house before I went to bed. And I never put wood on the fire. The list of things I neglected was huge.

But, I had also received a huge amount of blessings to be thankful for that day. I’m incredibly thankful that this was not one of my son’s more difficult days. I am thankful that I have an awesome sister who’s always got my back (and would have taken my sick kids even if she and her family were healthy). I feel tremendously blessed that I can live next door to my parents and be there to help them. My heart sings because my kids want the privilege of helping their grandparents or delivering dinner to them.  I’m thankful for the patience and kindness of mental health professionals who are willing to help kids who have had rough starts overcome them. I’m thankful for medical professionals who respect the right of the elderly to retain control over their care and treatment. I’m grateful that we were safe on the roads.

But most of all, I am thankful for a God who keeps me going through all of the craziness and who has provided for me physically and financially so that I can be there to take care of my family’s needs.