Focus

Right now Alex and I feel as if our entire life is defined by caregiving for our parents--me for my mom, and him for his mom and dad (probably because it is). We try to enjoy other things, other people, to talk about something else, but the problems of those three people utterly consume our day, even if we are not there.  Even if something truly wonderful and joyful happens. Their problems transcend everything else, no matter how hard we try to escape them.  We are focused on that constantly  And it throws everything else out of focus.

Case in point: We have a new granddaughter--Sophie Jo--born February 19, in Missouri, to our daughter Becky and her husband, Ben. Their first baby. We could have, no SHOULD have, gone to help them. But we had our parents to care for.  I finally went to visit when Sophie was two weeks old, and Alex flew out to join me the following week. But despite having a brand new baby girl and our wonderful daughter and son in law to visit, our thoughts, our conversations, our prayers, were always back with our parents. Calling care centers. Checking on benefit status.  Paying bills. Figuring out our next step. Family drama with my siblings.  Getting calls from hospitals, nurses, doctors, and bill collectors. Sophie is simply lovely, adorable, and a gift from God. We enjoy her immensely.  I love being totally exhausted from holding her, loving her, and feeding her through the night. We play with her and change diapers (lots of diapers). We sit and talk with her parents, play cards, eat dinner.  But always, right under the surface of all this joy, is a sense of guilt for not being with our parents. An urge to check on them, to follow up on something, to shake those who don't get it and make them understand.

Alex and his brother are frustrated with the red tape and bureaucracy of hospitals, Medicare, rehab centers, and computerized charting.  They are sick of explaining their parents' complicated medical history and prescription medicines to nurse after nurse after nurse, and doctor after doctor, only to find out the medical staff still manages to screw things up, to misdiagnose. They are tired of driving 4-5 hours a day to and from different care facilities, because their parents are in different hospitals--in the same city.  They are sick and tired of trying to navigate the asinine maze of rehab centers and their convoluted process for procuring a room and then keeping it.  Alex misses me, his dogs, his home, retirement, and I miss him and his help and his support.  Me? I am tired of my sisters harassing mom's nursing staff, and then bothering me constantly with phone calls and texts that only serve to reduce me to a crying, blubbering idiot, and to make me doubt my sanity and my decisions.  I am fed up with calling social services, the nursing home, and doctors and having to wait days for a call back.  I'm worried constantly that my mom will never adjust to life in a nursing home, that she will forever fight it and hate me for taking her there.  I am tired of explaining Mom's behavior, worsening mental state, her need for 24/7 care, and her idiosyncrasies.

My thoughts are consumed with questions of "what if...?"

But most of all, I am completely and totally frustrated for not being able to just relax, to just let God control it and trust Him to handle it out, to trust that His plan is in motion and He already knows the outcome.  We want to have our hands on the situation, to have some input, or at least some foresight or insight into what the future holds tomorrow, next week, next year, i.e. "How will it all end?"

And that makes me sad, and angry at myself.

For being such a weak Christian.

For not being able to let go of the controls.

For playing tug of war with the Creator..."here you go, God; no wait, gimme a minute; okay, take it back; oops, I forgot one thing."

For not having the proper focus.

And then I realize He is teaching me.  Patience.  Trust.  Faith.  Reliance.

In His perfect plan.

In His perfect timing.

And then I rejoice because through it all, I know we are growing more like Him, and it all will be worth it in the end. 

But I still have trouble focusing...