It's a whole different set of emotions dealing with my son's situation and dealing emotionally with my mom's slow decline. I'm not specifically a caregiver for her, but she stays with me from time to time and I try to help out when I can. But I kinda got my hands full here. And that's a whole other set of emotions - feeling like I can't provide for my parents as much as I'd like to because I'm already a caregiver.
These are thoughts that are going through my mind this morning as I am working through some of my emotional pain. It may be the only constant in caregiving. And boy is it constant. This weekend has been one of lots of memories. It started with a simple post about the poisonous snakes in Oklahoma. A specific memory of a hike Chris and I took together surfaced. It was a funny memory of a hike cut short due to a snake. I laughed. I cussed. I cried.
Memories can be my best friend, or my worst enemy. I'm glad I have them. But they can cause so much pain. I think I'm making progress whatever that might look like because as memories came up this weekend and pain rose to the top, I didn't get quite as angry with God. It's kind of funny actually. The pain comes up and I don't know anything to do with it but to run to Him. I stand there with a broken heart asking all my why questions to which there are no answers. None that would suffice anyway.
There's this rush of emotions - I'm bringing my pain to Him, but then I'm mad at Him. But I'm bringing my aching soul anyway. Because I don't know of a better place to take it but to the One who can heal. That makes me angry again for a second or two. I think because He is the ONLY one who could do something. But He didn't.
But here I am before Him once again with my broken heart asking Him to soothe, comfort and heal. He never rolls His eyes and says, you again? He never tells me I can't "come in" because I'm partly mad at Him still. He never turns me away. He doesn't tell me I'm too much to handle or I've run out of tickets to see Him. He doesn't get tired of me. Instead , in my mind He welcomes me, brushes me off, straightens my clothes and smooths them out, pushes my hair out of my eyes and tells me He loves me. I'm welcome there. Every.Single.Time.
He doesn't get tired of me running to Him with the constant pain and grief from caregiving. Instead He somehow brings comfort and then pours His strength in me. I have lots of scriptures running through my head right now but the most prominent is a familiar one from Isaiah 40. It says this: