The decision had been made but none of us were happy. It was a lose-lose scenario. There had been times when these decisions would come easily. But in this case, doubt lingered on for weeks as decision makers on all sides weighed the options. In the end, the person with the greatest potential to be happy with the decision would never know a decision had been made and the rest of us, those who knew about it, would have little about which to be happy. And yet, we were.
Audrey and I used to have one of those iconic, on-going marital disagreements. This was the one about how I always left stuff lay around for her to pick up. I can picture how she'll smile when she reads this. She wasn't smiling then.
There were two parts to my side of the argument. First, I would argue that if I did indeed leave stuff lay around for any reason, she could be assured it was not with the intent or expectation that she should pick it up. My argument would have been that I wasn't thinking about her at all. (Note to husbands: If you are reading this and wondering about using this as an argument, I would highly discourage it.)
However, whether or not I was thinking about her was a mute point because my salient argument - clearly I needed a better one considering the lameness of my first - would have been that I always picked up after myself. (Pause for the sound of crickets.) That was it! Strong argument, right guys?
Audrey thought not. As a matter of fact, the only thing she would agree to was that I was completely out of my mind.
As it turned out, we were both right. Whenever she found something I left behind, she picked it up. Whenever I realized I had left something behind, I picked it up. We both always picked up what we saw and we both never realized the other was doing part of the clean-up.
Later, when I finally got smart enough to realize it actually pleased her to know I was trying to ease her burden by putting stuff away, I would get frustrated. If I did put stuff away or clean-up after myself, she wouldn't know about it. I'd get no pat on the back or 'at-a-boy' for that work. If I left the stuff out, well, clearly no praise for that. As long as I was looking for a reward from her for 'helping' straighten up, I would be dissatisfied. I could easily displease her by neglecting to do right. But she would never know when I did do right.
Pathetic. I know.
Our situation with Dad this week had a similar feel to it. We were slated to go away for the week, another family tradition, taking part in the Youth Camp 2011, a four day extravaganza that is the highlight of our teen-aged daughter's Summer each year. A large contingent of parents go along to serve the kids, enjoy the festivities, and hang out while the kids partake in grueling and exhausting physical competitions, relationship building, and plenty of spiritual challenge. We couldn't afford the expense of twenty-four hour in-home care for Dad, so our plan was to use our final respite care option, placing him in a local nursing home for five days, a cost covered by hospice twice a year.
We used our first respite option back in May when we took our camping trip. It was three weeks after we returned home before Dad began to recover from the trauma. We don't think there is reason to believe the facility Dad visited was in anyway neglectful or abusive but Dad's response to the experience was dramatic. When we brought him home, he showed all the signs of a person deeply traumatized. He had turned in on himself, took no interest in food or conversation. He recognized no one and treated even his most loyal and trusted aides as if they were sadistic guards in the Gulag. Thankfully, after a few weeks he snapped out of it. Though he had grown weaker in physical and cognitive ability, he eventually recovered his trusting and gentle spirit, for which he is known and loved.
We can never be sure how many more hours, days, or months Dad will be with us - he now holds the record with his particular hospice organization as the patient longest in continuous care. I suppose we can't be blamed for thinking back in the Spring that he may not linger into August. But here was August and here was Dad and a decision needed to be made. Option 1, put him in respite care again where he's very likely to experience the same trauma. Option 2, pay dearly for someone to do private care in the home while we're gone. Option 3, sacrifice another family tradition to have one of us stay home with him. None of these options sat well with us so we prayed. Less than forty-eight hours before departure time, we pulled the plug on respite. Dad needed to stay home.
Whether Audrey would say one of us got the better end of the deal - spending the week with Dad or spending the week alone serving at Youth Camp - I can't say for sure. I would guess at this stage in our marriage and relationship, we both would prefer to be together no matter the location or activity. The decision came down to gender. Mom would go with daughter. Son-in-law would stay with father-in-law. Audrey reluctantly agreed to go on without me.
Meanwhile, for Dad's part, he stayed home, in his chair, watching the Western Channel, content and relatively happy. He is the person with the greatest potential to be thrilled by our decision but he'll never know that joy. He will never have to think about the disquiet and unease that settled over us as we contemplated enjoying time away at his emotional and perhaps physical expense. He will never know about the prayer and planning that went in to keeping his routine in tact. He will never realize how much we looked forward to spending those four days together and how hard it was to give it up for his sake. He will never know about the sacrifice that kept him from returning to captivity in the place he refers to as 'the prison.'
As I think about Dad in his earlier days, his days as a young father, I would bet there were days when he rolled the same thoughts around in his head about Audrey and her brother. "They will never know what it cost me. They will never know what I gave up. They will never be thankful for what I did to prevent their suffering." Children just have no idea what responsibility and sacrifice comes alongside adult privilege.
I guess we can be the same way toward the Lord and all of his provisions. I wonder at the burdens, sacrifices, and sufferings Jesus saw ahead, weights he would carry, that he would eventually be called to bear, as he agonized before his Father in the garden that night. Perhaps he had similar thoughts about what I would never know. Perhaps he thought about me and my weakness, my inability to bear up under that load. "No," he said, "I'll carry it for him." And he walked directly into sacrifice, suffering and pain, full well knowing the losses he would experience. He did it because he wanted to keep me ignorant of those awful weights, to keep them from becoming a reality for me. Because of him, I will never know the odious reality of what awaited me. That is astounding love!
If we choose to live our lives caring for needy human beings, there will certainly be many days that end with no tangible reward, especially when caring for someone as spent as Dad. Sometimes everything we do is overlooked, regarded as just part of care, so easily taken for granted. Sometimes all we have at the end of the day is the broad smile of God looking on saying, "Nice work, son. What you did today reminds me so much of my son, Jesus. He was like you, you know. He sacrificed, and gave himself away, and he went unnoticed most of the time. I was so pleased with everything he did. You need to know how very pleased I am with everything you did today. Well done! Well done!"
You know what? That is enough!
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