For months I wondered and worried. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, with my mother, but I didn’t know what. When the doctor finally diagnosed a dementia similar to Alzheimer’s, my first reaction was relief. At least now I knew what we were facing. But the more I learned about this illness, the more my relief turned to fear. How were we going to cope with an illness that destroys the ability to reason and remember—an illness where there is no hope outside a miracle?

"Why, God?" I wept. "Why my mother? She’s suffered so much already. These are supposed to be the good years, the golden years. Instead, You’ve seen fit to take her husband and now to allow her mind to be taken by this disease."

As the oldest child, it was my turn to care for my widowed mother the last four and a half years of her life. During those years, I wept, not just for her, but for myself. I agonized over the ways mother’s illness affected our relationship. The child in me who still needed parenting was now required to do the parenting.

"Why, God? Why me?" I wept and sometimes grumbled as I struggled to meet the needs of my growing children, the demands of my growing career, and my mother’s growing need for mothering. As much as I loved her, it was hard not to resent her. I didn’t have the patience of a saint, or the wings of an eagle to rise above the pain of watching her deteriorate.

When it became obvious Mother could no longer live alone, my husband and I did a lot of talking and praying. We sought counsel from others. Finally, along with our two teenagers, we concluded she needed to come live with us. Little did we know what we were getting into or just how much she would disrupt our lives.

Mother didn’t sleep at night. She rarely stopped complaining and lecturing during the day. My husband and son learned to tune her out or escape to another room, but my daughter got into arguments with her constantly. I was not a good referee!

As Mom’s illness progressed, she became increasingly difficult, demanding, and manipulative. She required twenty-four hour care. Exhausted, and torn between her needs and the needs of my family, I often felt I was failing everyone. And I felt angry—with my mother, with myself for not coping better, and even angry with God.

"Look for the hidden blessings, child," the Lord said to me more than once.

"Blessings?" I questioned. But they really were there when I chose to look for them. I caught glimpses of the mother I once knew. I began to see ways God was at work in both our lives. I saw the Lord deepening my relationship with Him and with my husband. And I experienced God’s strength in a new way when I had to put Mom in a nursing home and several months later when I had to release her into His hands and allow Him to take her through the valley of the shadow.

God’s blessings will be different for each of us when it is our turn to care for an aging parent. Some may be clearly visible. Others we may see and understand only years later, perhaps not until we meet Him face-to-face. But this I know—even if we continue to badger Him with our "Why, God?" questions, even if we push Him aside when we most need Him, and even if "we are too weak to have any faith left" he will not abandon us (see 2 Timothy 2:13 TLB). He will minister to each of us, and to our loved one, in special and unique ways.

I pray God will use my experiences, and the experiences of those who have contributed to this book, to encourage you to look for His hidden blessings as you care for your aging parent. May you discover, as we have, that God is faithful and that He always keeps His promises.

© 1999 Marlene Bagnull

"I will be your God through all your lifetime, yes, even when your hair is white with age.
 I made you and I will care for you. I will carry you along and be your Savior."
—Isaiah 46:4 TLB

When I was a little girl, every Thursday night I went to choir practice with my mother. The director allowed me to sit next to Mother and encouraged me to sing along.

I beamed with pride. My mother was the best soloist in the choir! I leaned against her, trying to make my voice sound like hers. No matter how hard I tried, mine squeaked on the high notes she hit so clearly.

Mother held the music and turned the pages. When I got lost, she pointed to the right place. I didn’t grasp all the words or understand how to read the notes, but those weekly choir rehearsals nurtured my love for music and for the Lord.

Tonight I picked Mother up at her apartment and took her to choir with me. Her voice is no longer strong. It cracks on the high notes and slides off key. She no longer sings solos.

Mother’s hands get tired holding the music. She forgets to turn the pages and loses her place. I ask her if she wants to look on with me. She nods her head yes.

I think about the doctor’s prognosis. Mom isn’t going to get better, and it’s only a matter of time—no one knows how long—before she gets worse. I wonder and worry about what he means by "worse."

Suddenly the words we are singing interrupt my thoughts. I feel God’s presence. He reminds me that even though we grow old and weary, He never changes. He never stops loving us. He will be with us always.

I glance at Mother. She may no longer be able to grasp the words. She may not understand how to read the notes she’s trying to sing, but I know His Spirit is touching hers. He will allow neither death nor life to separate her from His love.

Thank You, Lord, for the way I know You will carry me and my mother during the days ahead.
 

© 1999 Marlene Bagnull

"I don’t like having Grandma live with us," my teenage daughter complained as we were rushing to get out the door. As usual, Grandma was making us late. My husband shot our daughter a you-had-better-shut-your-mouth look. I didn’t say anything as the knot in my stomach tightened.

Mom had been living with us for about a year, but it seemed like much longer. Some days I couldn’t help wonder if we had made the right decision. The idyllic picture I had painted of us living together as one big happy family was as far from reality as Mother’s ability to dress herself. And yet, we believed this was where she belonged—at least for now.

How can you find God’s strength to care for a live-in parent who demands more than you feel able to give?

Don’t put guilt trips on yourself or others. Living with someone who is losing his ability to do the simplest tasks is not easy. It’s natural, especially for children and teens, to resent the ways the older person’s presence disrupts family life. Don’t deny your feelings or give yourself or others a you-shouldn’t-feel-that-way lecture. Instead, encourage one another to rely on the strength the Lord will provide.

Get needed rest. It takes a lot of energy and patience to care for an aging parent. I found I was much better able to cope with what Mom said and did—with the dirty dishes she put in my cabinets, the clothes she stuffed in the china closet, and her insistence that a little boy was in her bed—when I’d gotten enough sleep at night. That was especially difficult in the beginning. Just as when my children were newborns, I heard every move she made. I felt compelled to go and check on her. But gradually I learned to tune out most of her night-time noises (after first parent-proofing the downstairs) and to trust I’d hear her when she really needed me.

Make time for yourself and your family. I admit this wasn’t easy to do. Yet even Jesus periodically withdrew from the demands of His ministry. I tried to make it a priority to get away, both by myself and with my family. Sometimes just feeding Mom an early dinner so we could eat by ourselves was all it took to restore our sense of family and renew our perspective. Other times we needed a longer time away. The work of finding a caregiver was worth the effort.

Don’t be afraid to let others know you need help. The I-don’t-need-any-help mentality is self-defeating. Investigate the services of local day care and respite centers. Let your friends and church family know specific ways they can help. Even when you feel like no one is listening or cares, keep asking and trust that in God’s perfect timing you will receive exactly the help He knows you need.

Talk to and get support from other caregivers. Join a local support group. If one is not available, ask the Lord to help you form one. The strength that comes from knowing you’re not alone can often be a key factor in keeping on.

Keep looking for those hidden blessings. If Mom hadn’t lived with us, I would have missed those precious moments of tucking her in bed at night. I would have missed dressing her in frilly blouses and bringing her a bowl of her favorite ice cream. Most of all, I would have missed the opportunity God gave me to take care of her as she once took care of me.

Live-in parents are likely to be more demanding than infants, more exhausting than toddlers, and more unpredictable and moody than teens. There will be days when you question the wisdom of your decision—days when you feel drained physically, emotionally, and spiritually. But God is faithful. He will enable you to keep on for as long as having your parent live in is the best alternative for him and for you.

© 1999 Marlene Bagnull

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