The Boy, the Man, and the Donkey (or how to not make anyone happy by trying to make everyone happy)

I loved Aesop's Fables growing up...for those of you who just do FaceBook and iPhones, there were these things called books. You would read them. Many of them had morals to the story. Even before Google. Anyway, I compare a lot of my life at times to various Aesop's Fables...there's one about the Fox and the Grape, The Lion and the Mouse, the Ant and the Grasshopper, and one of my all time favorites is the one about the boy, the man, and the donkey. There are various versions, but the basic situation in this fable is of a man and his son who are accompanied by their donkey and meet constant criticism from passers by of the way it is used or treated by them. When both walk beside the donkey they are criticised for not riding it. When the father rides, he is blamed for making his young son walk; when the son rides, he is blamed for leaving his elderly father on foot. When both ride, they are berated for overburdening their beast. Then the father then exclaims that the only option left is to carry the donkey on his back; in others he does so, or father and son tie the donkey to a pole which they carry on their shoulders. The pole breaks, and the donkey falls into a river and nearly drowns. The grain the donkey is carrying to the market dissolves when he falls in the water. Moral to the story: You cannot make anyone happy if you try to make everyone happy.

Enter Barbara--no, I am not the donkey!--who is having her children and grandchildren all together in North Carolina for the first time ever over the fourth of July. She wants, as always, for all her children to be happy and to get along. One of those children is leaving for overseas (with their daughters) a week after the North Carolina visit. The other lives in Missouri and is bringing their little four-month old baby, and has invited her new baby's godfather to join the family. Mom says "sure, he can come!" because she likes this young man, and he really is almost part of the family anyway. But then Mom is worried there will be different dynamics, that her two daughters won't get quality time together, that the young man will feel awkward and left out. So, she tries to fix it. To make one daughter happy, she said "yes!"  Thinking she will make the other daughter happy, she retracts the invitation, but of course that hurts feelings, and makes a huge mess. Now no one is happy...not me, the daughters, or the young man. Everyone is upset. My husband is fit to be tied.  And wanting to throw me in the river. What a huge mess. So, I swallow my pride, and talk to my daughters. And to the godfather. Who is probably the donkey in this story. I fix it. Since I broke it. I feel like an idiot. I am wishing I could just dissolve in the river. I am so angry at myself for always wanting everyone to be happy, for everything to be perfect, for everyone to get along.

Then I realized I am not perfect. That life is not perfect. Or perfectly planned. That I do not control anything--not feelings, events, or outcomes. That in trying to react to everyone's wishes, I was ending up being completely un-Christlike. I reacted badly, and nearly hurt a very near and dear friend, someone who is almost like a son to us. I hurt my daughter, who wants to (also) try to make everyone happy. And I confused my husband, who had no idea I was doing this.The more I try to gain control, I lose control, and I find no rest. And the more I let go of control, and let God be in control, then, and only then, can I rest. "Cease striving and know that I am God." In original Hebrew it means giving up by putting our hands down. Let God have the wheel. Let Him drive and only then will I experience rest and peace.   

Every day I discover how weak I am and how strong God is; how small I am and  how huge is God. I think I will just listen to what He is telling me, what He has planted in my heart, and find peace in Him doing the driving. 

Even if it is a donkey.

  

Coming to grips

come to grips - to deal with (a problem or a subject); to handle, manage, care, deal - be in charge of, act on, or dispose of

A week ago the doctors at the Oaks put in a referral for my mom to get some inpatient treatment at Park Ridge Geropsychiatric Unit.  Today she was transferred there.  While I know it is necessary, and that they are probably the only ones who can help her adjust to living out the rest of her days in a nursing home, I have ambivalent feelings all jumbled up in my head.   Guilt.  Validation.  Betrayal. Sadness. Relief. Uncertainty.  Anticipation.  Fear.  

I am coming to grips with having a mom who has mental health challenges AND dementia AND physical problems. Coming to grips with not apologizing for admitting these facts to myself and others; with being the one who has to make unpopular and unsavory decisions; with not being able to discuss mom's care with my sisters; with having to put on a front when I talk to or visit mom.  

Yes, I handle, manage, care, deal, am in charge of, act on, and dispose of.  And strangely, I enjoy doing it.  I delight in this duty of honoring my parent.  I have no delusions that she will be cured, or fixed, or pain free, or even happy. She will be angry with me, and my sisters will accuse me of exaggerating, controlling, fabricating, and manipulating. I do know, though, that she will be safe and cared for and this new phase will help the caregiving team understand her needs, and deal with her behavior. It is not easy. Or fun. But I enjoy this duty. I actually delight in this duty. I can, as James, brother of Jesus, said:  "Count it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, when you meet trials of various kinds." (James 1:2). And the more I love, the more I pursue the JOY of fulfilling God's purpose in my life.  

This has become even clearer to me as I read John Piper's The Dangerous Duty of Delight.  (I started out reading Piper's Desiring God, but my son-in-law wisely suggested I read the smaller book first...good advice!)  "Funny" how reading these books just "happened" to coincide with caregiving decisions for my mom, with my internal emotional struggle with those decisions.  

Such a journey I am on.  Such an opportunity to grow and glorify God and pursue him in joy.  For, as Piper puts it, "Love is the overflow and expansion of joy in God, which gladly meets the need of others."  

Quips

Kids say the darnedest things.  And our granddaughters say the CUTEST things EVER!  (Or "evuh" if you are Molly)
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"Bye girls.  We are driving down to see Pop Pop's parents."

Lydia:  "Pop Pop has parrots!?"

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"Molly, lay down on your pillow and go to sleep, sweetie."

"I can't.  I'm a grasshopper.  Grasshoppers don't use pillows."

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Isabella:  "Love you, stinky face!"

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Lydia and Molly:  "Hey that car has one of those "wee-o, wee-o" things on it"

(the light on top of emergency vehicles...you know, the vehicles that have a siren that goes, "WEE-O, WEE-O, WEE-O")

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And then there is the "spicy meatball" craze, started by Pop Pop....here are a couple clips

Humor in the ER

Watching parents get old, more infirm, sick, and suffering from the effects of aging, dementia, and arthritis, is not, to put it mildly, fun.  Lots of serious stuff, hard questions to answer, and even harder decisions to make.  So when something happens that makes me laugh out loud, well, it's a memorable moment that brightens my day, that makes me realize to not take myself (or my situation) so seriously.

I had one of those precious moments two days ago, when, for the second time in less than a week, I accompanied Mom from the Oaks to the local emergency room.  She'd fallen again and bumped her head pretty good, and needed stitches.  With her history of dizziness, confusion, and worsening dementia, it's normal for emergency medical workers to ask several questions to assess her state of mind. 

"Hi, ma'am.  How are you doing today?"
     "What?"
"HI MA'AM...HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY?"
      "Well how do you think I am doing? I have a gash in my head"
"Do you know where we are?"
     "The ER"
"Which ER?"
            "Transylvania!"
"What year and month is it?"
         "2016, April,May,whatever"
"Can you tell me who the president is?"
         "Shit-head knucklehead"
"Yup, that'll do"

The rest of the visit was boring after that.