From bobrussell.org

 

     My wife had knee replacement surgery three weeks ago. That was risky since she’s three score years and twenty-four. But Judy had developed such daily pain and difficulty walking that she courageously made the decision to go under the knife. We’re thankful the surgery was a complete success — in part because of an excellent doctor, but mostly because our gracious God answers prayer. Judy is cautiously scooting around the house on a walker and making good progress.

     For the past three weeks I’ve been my wife’s primary caregiver. The surgery was a challenge for her; nursing her back to health has been a challenge for me, especially since mercy isn’t one of my primary gifts. My sympathy lasts about three hours, and after that I’m inclined to say, “Wipe some dirt on it and tough it out! Let’s go!” The nature of her recovery requires a whole lot more tenderness, patience, and encouragement than I’m naturally inclined to give.

      Still, I’ve been running errands, wrapping her tender wounds in ice packs, adjusting the sheets, fixing lunch, fetching pills and fresh water because “this water sat overnight,” making sandwiches and heating up casseroles friends have brought to the house, and helping her get seated at the kitchen table.

     We’ve been married for 60 years and have done some things in the past three weeks that keep reminding me of my vow, “…in sickness and in health.” Caregiving is not easy, especially for someone who isn’t naturally wired with a lot of mercy. But I have to say I’ve done fairly well. I’d humbly give myself a B-plus as a caregiver.

     I’ve learned some things in recent days. Did you know there is no “good fairy” who comes to the house and folds the tee shirts and socks and puts them in the drawer? Some person has to do that.

      While I normally help clean up the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, I’ve found out someone has to take them out of the dishwasher too — and put each individual plate on the shelf and all the silverware back in the drawers.

     And I can’t get over how often someone in the house has to do the laundry. Even though there are just two of us, somehow the hamper gets full and I’ve had to rewash (and dry and fold) the same clothes I took care of two days ago. And did you know when you throw clothes in the washer, if you put red shirts in with white underwear and don’t specify “cold” on the computerized dial, the previously white items look a little effeminate? And did you know the dryer has a lint filter that needs to be cleaned after every cycle?

     When Judy takes a personality profile, the tests always show she is wired for attention to detail, accuracy, and consistency. Those gifts have proven very helpful in the administration of our home and in planning trips. But I’m not wired the same way, and although we’ve been happily married for over sixty years, our differences sometimes become a source of irritation. Clutter, for example, bothers her a lot more than it bothers me — and these days I’m responsible for keeping things straight, even in the bedroom where there is a lot of additional disorderliness. I’ve heard her mumble about that once or twice.

     When I’m awakened at 3:00 a.m. to help my wife in and out of bed so she doesn’t fall, I crawl back under the covers and then hear, “You forgot to shut the bathroom door.” And I’m just a tad annoyed. When I ask, “Why is that important?” she responds, “Because the nightlight reflects in the bathroom mirror and gets in my eyes.”

     When I suggest, “Well, just close your eyes and go to sleep and I guarantee it won’t bother you,” my answer isn’t satisfactory. So when I get back up and shut the bathroom door, outwardly I’m a good caregiver, but inwardly I’m murmuring more than a little.

     I’m very grateful for the many expressions of concern for Judy and for the good people who have prayed for her and provided needed assistance these past three weeks. But I’ve also developed a new appreciation for caregivers. Unlike me, some caregivers have no hope of relief because the one they love is not getting better. Their demands and sacrifices are ongoing.

     I have a good friend whose wife has developed serious dementia. For the past year he has tenderly cared for her every need. Now she no longer recognizes his goodness and sometimes becomes uncharacteristically angry and accusatory. Wow. His tender service convicts me. I struggle to give a temporary cup of cold water to a wife who is appreciative and who has consistently sacrificed so much for me. What a wretched man I can be sometimes.

     Recently I read Genesis 35 and was impacted by one line in verse 8: “Now Deborah, Rebekah’s nurse, died and was buried under the oak outside Bethel” (Genesis 35:8).

     Jacob’s mother Rebekah had a caregiver toward the end of her life who meant so much to the family that—even though she was a servant—her death and burial were especially noted in God’s Word.

     Here’s a special thanks to all of you who provide daily care for an aging parent, a special-needs child, or a loved one who is terminal — you are special people. If you do it with a joyful spirit, you are doubly special.

     Jesus promised that even a cup of cold water given in His name would not go unrewarded (Matthew 10:42).

     Thank you to those of you who use your mercy gifts to nurse someone back to health or to help those who are dying die with dignity. Great is your reward in heaven. Pray for me that I will be able to do the same in the name of Him “who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2).

     P.S. Yes, she read it and gave me permission to post it.

 

Bob Russell retired as pastor from the Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, KY.