Only slowly am I learning to embrace these days as privilege
I have lived a privileged life.
Not only because I’m Caucasian in a culture with so much history of bias against people of color.
Not only because my family valued higher education, and that education laid the foundation for my life’s most fulfilling experiences.
Not only because my folks, flawed as they were, nevertheless created in me a habit of churchgoing and a love for being with other followers of Jesus who ended up accepting me when I had trouble accepting myself.
Not only because I married a woman I was always proud of, one who stood by me when she wasn’t proud of me.
And all that is not all. Now, in this late chapter of my life, I am coming to terms with a new dimension of my privilege. I am privileged with the opportunity to make life as pleasant as possible for my wife. I am privileged to be her caretaker.
Testimonies, examples
Others are helping me understand how this is so.
I think back to David Corts’s words in this space several weeks ago. “I thank God in the morning and the last thing at night for letting us have this time together,” he wrote. This, in spite of the fact that his wife spends most of each day in bed. She barely speaks. He does virtually everything for her. And he’s grateful for the opportunity.
And he’s not my only caregiver example. I remember my helpful talk with Joan Miracle, who said, “I wouldn’t change a thing!” Her husband never left her alone, didn’t remember marrying her, and insisted she go with him to check on his barn, sometimes repeatedly through the night.
I pushed Joan to explain. She really wouldn’t change anything about this struggle? Why? “Because I grew closer to the Lord,” she answered.
I can relate. When we see that none of our ingenuity or experience or effort is enough, when we realize we have nothing to reverse the deterioration at our doorstep, we’re forced to look beyond ourselves. I wouldn’t claim to be close to the Lord. But I know I am getting closer.
Experiences, love
David Corts said, “I am privileged to walk the valley of the shadow of death with one who gave her life for our family and the ministry of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
My wife lived as his wife did.
One night last week I thought of Evelyn’s years of service as I walked with her, taking slow steps to the bathroom. She gripped my hand with one of hers while leaning on her cane with the other for each halting move forward. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with wondering what so many who have known her would think about the scene.
What would they conclude about my efforts to help Evelyn cope? Certainly, some would label them simply as duty. Indeed, often I have thought of all I’m doing as little more.
But that night, concentrating with her on each unsteady step, for one wonderful moment a hundred faces flashed before me, each of them looking on with concern at this person they loved because she touched their lives: A host of former students and colleagues from her college teaching decades. A couple dozen or more grateful parents of preschoolers she taught in our Sunday school. Rooms full of friends who ate her cooking and laughed at her humor and admired her hard work.
And I thought, I get to be the one to express their gratitude to her for a life lived well. I get to help her reach each day’s goals, tiresome but vital. She not only needs the help, she deserves it. And I am the one with the privilege of extending the stronger arm and the better mind to make today OK for her.
I’ll call that spark of insight a gift from God. And, frankly, I’ll ask God to bring it to my mind again. I’m coming to see that when I view my caregiving as privilege, I gain a perspective that helps me carry on. It’s a point-of-view I know I need to nurture.
Photos by Ava W. Burton on Unsplash and iStockPhotos
