An Investment in Grace

This will be my first Christmas without my mother. She died last May, just a few weeks after celebrating her 100th birthday. Reaching the century mark was a huge goal for Mom – it was important to her. And God blessed her with fairly good physical health and mental awareness until the week she died.

During my months-long recovery from back surgery and a stroke, I missed visiting Mom in her assisted living complex. I always enjoyed seeing the other seniors there. I would chuckle at hearing the residents’ loud whispered comments in my wake as I walked by. “That’s Connie’s son!” they’d say, believing I couldn’t hear them. There was something reassuring being known as “Connie’s son” for the first time since elementary school. There’s another comment, though, that left me quite uncomfortable. And that comment was, “He’s such a good son!”

Now you’d think I’d be glad to hear that. But context is everything. Our Italian culture darkly frowns on farming out an aged parent to an old-folks home run by strangers. The realities of 21st century America forced that decision on us and, even though Mom understood and even welcomed living with other seniors, there was always that nagging disconnect in the back of my head.

In my experience, Mom was the rare parent who ended up in a facility. Parents of nearly all my friends and relatives have been able to stay in their own homes, or live with an adult child. So hearing someone call me a “good son” was less a compliment than an indictment. Context provides an explanation here, too. And it’s a sad one.

Last Christmas, when my wife Helen and I picked up Mom for a late afternoon holiday dinner with friends from the church choir, the facility was all but deserted. I greeted the aide on duty with a cheery “Merry Christmas,” and noted that most of the residents must have already been picked up to celebrate with their families. The aide’s eyes blazed with contempt.

“No,” she spit with disgust. “Hardly any families showed up.”

Please close your eyes for a minute to let that sink in.

 No one ever expects to be old and infirm. The sunny, smiling, twenty-something Connie that I see in old pictures never thought about being 100-years-old and confined to a wheelchair. But that’s where most of us will be – if we’re lucky.

While ageing is a reality we can’t change, we can make it easier for the aged. Make a friend at a nursing home and visit every so often. Maybe read to them. Ask about their younger selves. Or if you really want to see their faces light up, ask them to pull out old family pictures. You’ll end up wondering whose heart warms the most – theirs or yours.

Caregiving is part of God’s commandment to love our neighbor. Consider it an investment in grace. God’s grace.