Didn't Change a Thing
When my son was involved in a tragic wreck in 2008, he didn't stop being my son. Lately, he's been making super good progress, especially noted by healthcare professionals, since he's not supposed to make this kind of progress 17+ years out. At first, he seemed to slip away more and more every day. But the setbacks didn't make him not be my son.
Caregivers know the grief and deep heart pain that goes with watching loved ones slip away one small bit at a time. Particularly, like with my mom, if there is any dementia, we lose our loved one a little at a time. Day after day. They may not be the mom, dad, aunt, or uncle we once knew - but we are still related. The difficulties don't change kinship.
I watched my independent 24-year-old son lose the ability to care for himself at all. Today, he still has to have someone do all his daily living needs. He cannot feed himself (yet). He can't take himself to the bathroom. He can't use his hands at all except to sign "yes." But he's still my son. I haven't changed his name to the young guy who has a head injury. He's still my son!
Do you ever wonder what God sees when He looks at us? Surely caregiving has disfigured us. There's no doubt we are emotionally a very different person than we were BC (before caregiving). But God doesn't take a step back and wonder who we've become. He still calls us His sons and daughters. He still sees us as worth the cross. He hasn't changed His view of us because of the blows life has dealt.
I don't introduce Chris by saying, "Meet Chris. He used to be my son." Nope. I still proudly state, "This is my son, Chris." And for those who watch carefully, they see the love bestowed on his broken life and broken, disabled body. But he is no less my son than the day he took his last step or spoke his last word. I still love him.
God doesn't look at us and determine we are too broken for Him to care for. He doesn't look the other way, either, as if He doesn't want to look at our pain. Instead, He has compassion on us just like we have toward our loved ones. He won't cut us off, stop caring, stop being our shepherd, or resign from His position just because our lives don't measure up to "normal." No. He moves in reminds us that we are still His. I love that about God.
Like we help our loved ones with whatever level of care they need, God does the same for us. He is still our help, still our caregiver, still the keeper of our souls.
Today, as I care for my son, I will think of how God looks at my broken soul and still reaches in to help. As I do range of motion and move arms and legs for my son who cannot do it on his own, I'll try to picture God doing that to my soul, too. He looks at us with more compassion and concern than we can even imagine. He gets us. That's why I will gladly call Him my Father and my Friend as I trust Him for one more day. Will you join me?
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