My husband and I cared for his elderly mom for four years in our home. Over a two-week period during that time, several people we knew died. My husband’s cousin, a woman who lived next door to my parents for forty years, a neighbor’s son whom we’d watched grow up, a man who lived in our community for decades, and others. No one really close, but all people it seemed we’d known forever. So much loss over such a short time.
Then a young woman who lived near us—someone I didn’t even know—committed suicide. That was the last straw. I broke down and told God I couldn’t take any more.
What does this have to do with caregiving? Nothing. And everything. Whether death is sudden or lingering, we still feel the grief from that loss. With the exhaustion that comes with caregiving piled on top, it seems like too much. Even when we’ve been expecting to lose a loved one for a long time, we may still feel blindsided.
Something else I’ve noticed is that when we know someone who has passed away, we almost always think of something we regret. The call we should have made or the note we failed to write. The same holds true for our loved ones. Either we did something we shouldn’t, or we didn’t do something we should. No matter how well we cared for them, one perceived misdeed can overshadow everything else. While we think we’re ready for the cascade of conflicting emotions, we never are.
My mother-in-law passed away a year or so later. Each loss reminds me of the fragility of life. I can give in to the overwhelming loss, or I can give my sorrow to an all-powerful God who wipes away every tear. Life is fragile, but God is not.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning,
nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
Revelation 21:4 ESV
Tracy Crump dispenses hope in her award-winning book, Health, Healing, and Wholeness: Devotions of Hope in the Midst of Illness (CrossLink Publishing, 2021). A former intensive care nurse, she cared for her parents and her mother-in-law and understands both the burdens and joys of caregiving. Her devotions have been featured in Guideposts books, The Upper Room, and many other publications, and she has contributed 22 stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul® books. She also conducts writing workshops, freelance edits, and proofreads for Farmers’ Almanac. But her most important job is Grandma to five completely unspoiled grandchildren.
I’m so thankful that although “life is fragile, … God is not.” A great reminder, Tracy.
Tracy,
That was too much loss on top of what you were handling. Thank you for being so honest about how you approached God. I think that we are too afraid sometimes to admit our weakness or sense of feeling defeated under pressure. It could be physical pain, emotional blows, or other things such as service and work that overwhelm us.
Thank you for giving us (me) the permission to lay our sense of giving up before God.
Blessings,
Janis
Thank you for your sweet words, Janis. Some things are difficult to take to God, but that’s what we must do.
“I can give in to the overwhelming loss, or I can give my sorrow to an all-powerful God who wipes away every tear.” Truth. Thank you, Tracy.
God is so good. Thank you, Diana.
Tracy, this is so true, especially your insights about how receiving news someone has died can trigger regrets. This often happens to me, and it’s reassuring to know it’s a common experience. Thank you for the reminder of heaven, where all these emotions will pass away forever.
Thank you for your words, Rhonda. I’m glad it helps to know we share those same emotions.
Beautiful and needed. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Joy.
Beautiful and timely, Tracy. I loved the line, “Life is fragile. God is not.” I am going to use it for my meditation today.
Thank you.
Karen
Thank you, Karen.