Any of us might seek a calling to something grand and important. But I’ve decided my calling today is the person right in front of me.

Today’s shared story is curated from several pieces of correspondence with Paul Boatman, retired professor, chaplain, and counselor in Lincoln, Illinois.

Many have told me “you must take care of yourself.” I’ve never disagreed, but I’m still figuring out how to do what they’re suggesting.

Her condition was what it was. She didn’t have the capacity to respond to it differently or change anything. Only I could make changes. And how she was doing was significantly affected by how I was doing.

Do you cry? I know I’m not the only one who puddles up often. And now that I’m a caregiver, I’m coming to understand what’s behind some of those tears.

Today’s Shared Story comes from Valerie Reed, Mason, Ohio. Her husband, Dave, suffers from physical injuries as traumatic as any outcome from an Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

“I don’t know if I’m a companion or a caregiver.” “Why choose? Why can’t you be both?” There’s hope and joy for me in that answer.

I was a caretaker two years before I was willing publicly to wear the label. Today I’m thinking about what taking that step has accomplished for me.

Of everything added to my growing list of caregiver duties, to remember feels the most urgent.