Faith Forward with Jason McKnight: Giving back to the ones who gave us life
My grandmother died at 102 years young. She lived on her own until the final week when she moved to hospice. My mom died at 82 years old. Amazingly, she only outlived her mom by 7 months.
The last three years of Mom’s life were spent in a declining state of mental cognition. It was hard for my grandmother to watch. It was hard for my siblings and me to change our paradigm, from “Mom’s just getting older” to “something’s not right.”
In the end, my brother brought her to live with his family. After about a year and a half there, she moved into a memory care unit. Her next move was to heaven.
Those several years, I got to be part of the Sandwich Generation—the folks raising their children and also caring for aging parents. We were sandwiched. I learned several rich truths through this unwanted season.
First, “Honor your Father and Mother” still matters. The Fifth Commandment is not only aimed at kids. When Mom was widowed for a second time 10 years ago, my siblings and I got to be involved in her daily life and affairs more than we had ever been. We were the fence between her and a cruel world. She no longer had the partnership with her husband… she relied on us. We each invested in ways that we could—more frequent visits, helping with practical things like finances & house upkeep, calling and checking on her often. Why? Because the Lord says to honor our parents.
Anything you do to invest in, help, enrich and benefit your parents is honoring them. Some will have lunch with them every Thursday, others will bring them into your home. Some will mow the lawn, fix the toilet, or get the groceries. When motivated by the heart to help them out—this is honoring our parents. “How can I help?” is the question.
Second, Siblings can become an action team. My five siblings all grew up together, but we’d never been on the “same team” on a project. In fact, we live in 3 different countries. But, once “Project Mom” was moved to the top priority in our lives, all of us stepped up our energy. And our Zoom calls to check in and report on updates were crucial. I realized that my siblings are very good at what they do—each of us took different responsibilities to share the load. Even so, a few of us stepped up far more than others (those in closest proximity).
Third, Siblings on an action team mean we need to learn how to communicate. Family communication patterns are not automatically healthy. We carry decades of baggage into any conversation. But, through some missteps, some offline coaching, some apologies, and lots of goodwill, we leaned into generative communication amongst ourselves for Mom’s benefit. Through this, we also grew together as friends.
Fourth, Scammers are real and mercilessly prey on old people. Sadly, my mom was scammed. Phone calls, online banking, “great opportunity--act now!”, verbal threats. So sad. Grievous. We worked hard to limit the losses, and we did what we could to protect her, but while she lived alone, scammers could overcome all the safeguards we set up. Though there was financial loss, far worse were the fear, confusion and shame that invaded her daily life.
I’m not sure if hell has levels of anguish, but I know where I’d put unrepentant scammers who make seniors’ lives hell. One of the great mercies of moving her out of her home was we changed her phone number and email address, and she never lost another hour of sleep to these folks.
Mom’s final 3 years were inexorable decline. From walking to walker to wheelchair. From chatting to whispered mumbles to no real words. From my brother’s family dinner table to her food cut up by the help in the Memory Care unit. This journey is all too familiar to so many! Here are the last two truths I learned:
Fifth, Each life has value simply because it’s a life. We moved her to Grace Village, in Lennoxville, Quebec—close to my brother. The folks in the Memory Wing treasured Mom’s life. They treated her, and her 15 fellow residents, with the utmost of dignity and care. They always called her by name. They were gentle in changing & bathing her. One helper—with a gorgeous Jamaican accent—showed me the cycle of games/activities she used with Mom, a different activity each day, to stimulate her darkening mind as much as possible.
Though Mom couldn’t talk, walk, sing, work, be productive or contribute in any active way, she was shown her value by the top-notch care she received. She was not a commodity, but a daughter of the King. She was not a trouble, but a treasure. Every single person I meet has that same dignity and worth as my mom. It took this experience to drive that truth from my head to my heart.
Finally, I journeyed from frustration to compassion. As with all parent-child relationships, we had our share of frustration. Often the frustrations were mine. Directed at her. Because she didn’t do what I thought she should. Yes, I know, very mature of me!
As the disease took her personality, it didn’t take her life. Her hands were the same hands that rocked me as a baby. Her tender cheek the same that hugged me ten thousand times. I had no cause to be frustrated about her decisions, life-style, collateral damage. When I came to visit, all that was left was Mom—her weakening smile, her tender cheek, her frail and failing body. All that was left in my range of interactions with her was to show compassion.
What a gift God gave us: that Mom lasted long enough so that our relationship wasn’t characterized by the frustrations of missteps, but the compassions of helplessness. God invited me to love her like he does: compassionately, tenderly, with kindness and mercy (not judgmentalism or condescension).
I was with my dear Mom when she breathed her last. It was around 2:30 on a snowy January morning. I had read with her from Psalm 100—“Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.” Little did I know these were the last words of Scripture she would hear in this life. Within just moments, she entered His courts with praise!
And with that, I was no longer part of the sandwich generation. I am thankful that I got to honor her. And I’m grateful for the truths God gave me along the way.
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