Wisdom and Presence
Today marks my 100th Post for “Wednesday Wisdom With Wyndham.” This post is special to me because it represents a hundred weeks (of writing) that I have been blessed with Wyndham’s presence since his diagnosis of MSA. Each week is a blessing. Every day is a gift.
Over these past hundred weeks, God has been transforming my heart. The decline of Wyndham’s health to the point he can do nothing for himself, and my caring for him has transformed us both. This week I’ve been reflecting on lessons learned as a caregiver. I was not looking to learn so many lessons, as neither of us willingly signed up for this class. From my early teen days as a candy striper (volunteer nurses’ helper) at the hospital, I was confident caregiving was not my thing. My very first assignment was to fill the patients’ water pitchers with ice. Instead, I filled all their urinals. I had no idea until a man laughed and said to me, “This gives peeing on the rocks an entirely different meaning.” I was so embarrassed.
I don’t like to lean into pain and suffering. I prefer to run the other way—but caregiving forces me to “be there.” Really there. It’s a constant reminder that Wyndham and I are temporarily here, though permanently homed with God. To live life in the fear of death is suffocating. I’ve felt that; however, the resurrection allows us to overcome this fear, though it’s not easy. I’m not there yet, but making good progress.
I would much rather fix Wyndham’s suffering than enter it to stay; however, I can’t cure, but can certainly care. Through all the associated ups and downs, God has stayed with us. He has been present in our pain and participated in our joys. He hasn’t left us alone and promises He never will. I am humbled that Jesus came here to lean into my pain and suffering in every way—to give me hope. To be with me. To hurt with me. To rejoice with me. To be present with me during my short time on this stage, as life truly is a mist. A good mist, however…full of inexpressible joys and unimaginable sorrows. Full of the warmth of love and the beauty of a creation only God could imagine.
Wyndham, in complete weakness, is still strong. Of course, he doesn’t like being in his situation, but he graciously accepts it. He finds fullness in the presence of God and in the presence of those he dearly loves. This time has flushed out any pretense of identity. God’s love and acceptance must always be enough. Suddenly, things I once felt important take an appropriate place. What we do is nothing compared to who we are—God’s beloved. The important thing is to experience and to give that love.
As one who likes to stay busy, I can, at times, feel impatient with the slowness, repetitiveness, and tediousness of caregiving. Our home is our hospital, our restaurant, our theater, our vacation place, his church, my office, my schoolroom…but most importantly a place to give and receive love. It’s a haven, yet I can at times feel guilty when I miss the freedom to be outside of its borders.
In so many ways this chapter of life is a gift. It seems strange to say this, as it’s a gift I don’t really want, but find precious—sort of sacred. Above all, I am learning the importance of presence. I know how important my presence is to Wyndham, because he can’t do anything without me (or someone who is here caring for him). What a stark illustration this is to me of Jesus’ words in John 15:5: I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. I am completely helpless without the presence of Jesus in my life. Completely. But fortunately, I don’t have to be apart from him.
One of Wyndham’s favorite passages has been Exodus 33:14-15, when Moses is hesitant to do the job God called him to do:
The LORD replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”
Then Moses said to him, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.
What a great comfort. Often, I would hear Wyndham pray, “God, I don’t want to go unless your presence is with me.” His presence with us means everything. This is the biggest lesson I am learning. Nothing is better than to be in His presence. It really is enough.
I have sweet memories of my mother (before she became deaf) singing in our home. One of her most oft-sung songs contained the words: Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go, anywhere he leads me in this world below. Anywhere without him dearest joys would fade, anywhere with Jesus I am not afraid. Anywhere, anywhere, fear I will not know. Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go.
What a beautiful message of Jesus’ presence. His presence is everything. His presence is enough. Thank you, Jesus, for never leaving me alone.
LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.
I will praise the LORD, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me.
I keep my eyes always on the LORD. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. (Psalm 16:5-11, emphasis added)