Caring for Parents

Nothing I write here will be new or original. I know that.

Caring about and for my parents is different than I expected, and I just want to get off this adult bus. I came to my hometown to check on my mom last night, and I'm staying tonight too. I realized they needed help with cleaning and I don't want to see my mom doing any of it, if I could help it, this week. So I stayed today, watched the football game and spent time with them. After the game, laundry, vacuuming, mopping ensued. Then heating up dinner and clean up.

This is what I do at home. And I'm doing it here. And I still have to do it at home. But I don't feel angry about it, I am just doing it. This is what adult children who are caring for their parents do. This is what Indian children do. My mom would be doing it for her mother if she were in India. It's a curious thing, caring for people that cared for you. It's sort of like I'm in that Benjamin Button movie and it doesn't feel real. However - what I know is that God gave me this family, appointed this time for this purpose, and this is what I'm doing.

Ailing Mom

I've been struggling this week with my mom's surgery. She had knee replacement surgery on her right knee. It plain took her out. When she awoke from surgery, I was there. She said, "Prathima, is that you?" I nodded. Then she said, "I like your shirt. It's nice." I smirked. She's kind of wacky like that. I left that day for home two hours away, but after I left, she apparently got less coherent in her comments, and she kept having trouble recognizing reality. She thought the milk needed to be put back in the refrigerator, and it turned out to be a jug of distilled water. My younger sister stayed with her the past three nights, making sure she was being taken care of, making sure she did the right things.

It's really hard to describe how much this woman did for me in my younger years in terms of serving me. That's the way she has always been to me and my sisters. She was our servant. She was our mom, sure, and she did exercise some discipline, but she didn't know how to lead us in this country. We were in uncharted territory. How to deal with the "popular" kids in school? No way would she guide us on that. How to be fashionable? We bought out of the bargain bin. How to get good grades? That was my dad's territory. How to flirt? She told us to look away when boys looked at us when we passed them. LOL.

Now, to see her so incapacitated, so unable to take care of herself, it's a bit difficult. I know she hates it. I know she wants to "do" everything. She cannot. Just like I'm learning. I can't either.

waiting, waiting, anticipating

Sometimes I feel like I am in a holding pattern. Which is sort of a misdirection, because I do believe God has me where He wants me. This is the best He has planned for me, and I am content to a certain extent. That is a trick, learning that contentment. Yet, I wonder, what's next? What's going to happen next? I've had a lot of "what's going to happen next" moments this year. Girls growing up, mainly - kind of a big deal. I can't underplay that. It's kind of huge. When I look back at their little baby pictures and their little girl pictures, it seems like a lifetime ago in some ways, and just yesterday in others.

Why are we never completely content? Why do we think about what's going to happen next? The thrill of newness is exciting, the paleness of the stale status quo is less so. I think forward to my 40s, my 50s, my 60s; will I stop caring about newness? Can you have anticipation, still? I am hoping it's anticipation in the eternal, and not just the vapid idea of change that we have sometimes. I have bated breath in hopes of this.

Getting my priorities straight

I've got an exciting weekend coming up, the annual debauchery that is Dragon*Con, and all I can think about is...sports. Seriously. K's got volleyball games this week, and I'm hoping I see her put some more oomph in her playing. I want to see her attack that freaking serve, reach higher for that play at the net, dive harder to make that return of serve. She's got it in her. No mercy. However, I'm missing her Monday games because I'm in Seattle. For work. Damn it.

The flipside of that is my own play in softball. And I can relate to K's unconscious hesitance because I can see it in myself. I'm missing our season opener this week and I'm kind of down about it. The fact of the matter is: I am not as physically able as I was ten years ago. I can't sprint like I used to. I get winded a lot faster. But I love it. I can sort of watch myself on the field, and I see myself hesitate when I'm playing in the outfield or at second base. For crying out loud, I am not comfortable playing second, but I'm going with what our coach says. No mercy.

Then...there's the smell of football. Every year, I've been looking forward to football season more and more. High school, college, even pro football. The tailgating. The large screen TVs. The beer. The potato skins, cheesy bread, chicken wings, and on and on and on. The college football opener is Saturday night. And while some of the geeks will be running amok getting wasted at DCon parties, Lori and I will be watching Boise St vs Georgia. Geeks with wine and pizza, watching football in our hotel room. Hot damn, I can't wait.

Sorrow

Sometimes I wonder at the fact that Jesus may have felt the heart-clenching emotion I occasionally feel. That kind you get when you feel physical pain in your heart area and you feel like you want to cry. And Jesus felt something like this? Times 1000?

Man of Sorrows, what a name!

This was an incredible post on running to things other than the gospel for rest and comfort.

Winsome

M moved out on Saturday. We had a great afternoon and evening on Friday. I took a half-day and we want to Nancy Taylor Day Spa and got mani-pedi treatments. Then we sort of killed time and went shopping for some things for the dorm, got some Sonic drinks, and went home. For dinner, M and I made breakfast. I can't tell you how many times over the years that I've made breakfast for dinner. We giggled all the way through the eats, kind of knowing it was the last time for a while. M had some great quotes. To K, "get a twitter account and follow me. I talk about bacon a lot and it's really interesting." About a general topic, M said, "Let's all say a swear word right now. Go!" Then she proceeded to say, "Breakfast for dinner is the SH**!" and I proceeded to gasp melodramatically. We also decided to have an avocado because M happens to love them. I made K eat a bite, after paying her three dollars. That kid has some great faces.

Saturday dawned sunny and hot, and M's dad arrived. We packed up the van and got to UA promptly at 9:10 am. Moving went fairly well, although M left half her stuff at the house (why would she leave a TV for later, is she nuts?). We met up with Beth and Jim and their daughter who is going to be M's roommate. Great day setting up rooms and just being silly together. Like Beth said, it wouldn't have been as much fun without each other.

And now she's there. And I want to see what she's doing, who she's with, and ask her if she's being safe. I am trying not to. I think it's ok to ask, but I want to try to play this right. So I'm trying to leave her alone. I miss her. I have a lot of memories of her with me. She's been part of me for almost 19 years. It's hard to let that go. But it's right.

What we deserve and what we get

Strife in the soul, tearing at me,
Guilt, shame, failure; repeated offenses committed.
Dark vales, frustrated stinging moments,
Low points resulting from Sin and the Fall.

Inward promised light, renewing my faith,
Justified, sanctified, redeemed; saved in spite of myself.
Grace extended, unbidden and undeserved,
Beauty in the generously offered Word and Sacrament.

This yin and yang between what we deserve and what we get amazes me every Sunday. Its simplicity humbles me. Still, I often don't get it.