Apparently, I have reached the age where everybody around me is thinking about old age.
It comes, I suspect, mostly from watching our own parents die and seeing the helplessness and dependence that precedes death. Those of us fortunate enough to have parents who live into old age also, to some extent, have the experience of witnessing their gradual (or steep) decline, of caring for them, of making difficult decisions, of wondering if we made the right decisions.
I’m not going to lie — it’s not necessarily an easy phase of life.
And so, we naturally think about what will happen when our own time comes. What will my decline look like? Will I suffer? Who will look out for me when I can’t look out for myself? Who will make decisions for me?
In the midst of this, I hear from more and more of my peers that they don’t want to “burden” their kids. They don’t want them to have to take time and energy out of the lives they are building to worry about Grandma and Grandpa.
Some deal with their concern by being proactive. They put away money for the day they will need more care. They buy long term care insurance. Others just worry about it, with no real plan.
And then there are those who take more drastic measures — who decide that they don’t plan to stick around to be a “burden.” They establish a threshold — when they are unable to care for themselves, or when they can no longer think clearly, or whatever point they determine is “too much” — and they announce that, when that threshold occurs, they will simply check out. They will kill themselves, via assisted or unassisted suicide.
I find this very problematic, on a number of levels.
First, the obvious: Our lives are not our own. And the God who gave them to us has made it clear that he and he alone determines when they will end. If we believe that he loves us, that he wants what is absolutely best for us, and he sees a much bigger picture than we do, then “bailing out” of his plan when the going gets rough is clearly not an option he endorses.
Jesus himself faced excruciating suffering. And he knew it was coming. If “offing” ourselves to avoid pain were an option, he would have modeled that for us. He was God. He could have just willed himself off the cross and out of this painful world. But he did not. He modeled perseverance, courageously facing every moment of his agony. And the Father brought eternal good out of it. Likewise, when we imitate him by taking up our crosses and uniting them to his, we believe that the God who loves us will use our suffering — for our own sanctification, for the people we love, and for his own beautiful purposes that we can’t even begin to comprehend.
This is important to mention — as is the caveat that this is in no way a commentary on those who have gone before us via suicide, which in a vast majority of cases happens to people whose pain has drastically distorted their thinking. We commend them, and all the departed, to the mercy of God.
But none of this is my main point.
I want to talk about the “burden” of caring for our aged and infirm loved ones. And I want to discuss it from the perspective of the “burdened.”
I cared for my parents, in varying degrees, for the last fifteen or so years of their lives. It started with moving closer so I could “keep an eye on them.” Gradually they needed more help with doctor’s appointments. Over time, my siblings and I reached the point of having to make significant decisions — where they should live, what care they should receive, almost completely on our own. With the onset of my mother’s dementia came completely uncharted territory — trying (often unsuccessfully) to calm her and ease her fears, and trying (also unsuccessfully, in the end) to keep her safe. And finally, around the time of my mother’s passing, taking my father into my home.
I deserve no medals for what I did. It was a small drop in the bucket compared to the sacrifices they made for me over the course of my life. And I have known so many others who have done so much more, with so much more grace.
I didn’t always do it well. I certainly didn’t always do it with a smile. It was difficult at times. Scary. Frustrating. Overwhelming.
And yet, I wouldn’t trade a single minute of it.
Of course I wish my parents — my mother, in particular — hadn’t had to suffer so awfully. But given that reality, I am grateful beyond measure that I could be there, in whatever capacity, to help ease that suffering. I am grateful that I could offer my parents, in their twilight years, the same unconditional love they extended to me throughout my own life.
The word compassion means “to suffer with.” When we extend compassion, we lift some of the burden of the one who suffers and take it on ourselves. And great graces flow from that not only for the suffering one but also for the compassionate one. To be able to lift the burdens of those who brought us into this world, those who lifted so many of our own burdens, is a great privilege.
It was never lost on me that the fourth commandment, “Honor thy father and thy mother,” is the only commandment with a promise attached: “That it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” (Eph 6:2-3) God knew that what he was asking of us could be difficult. So, he put a carrot on that stick. I don’t know exactly what that reward is, or if it happens primarily in this life or the next. But I do know this: Caring for our parents with the help of God’s grace changes us for the better. I know it changed me. It touched my heart, made me more compassionate, opened my eyes to the plight of the vulnerable elderly. It gave me a new vision, and a new mission. And, probably most important of all, it drew me closer to God.
Caring for my parents did far more for me than any self-focused “life building” I might have otherwise done with that time.
Of course I’m not saying you should try to make it difficult for them. I am grateful that my parents, although far from wealthy, had sufficient resources to cover their needs. And that my father was healthy into his late 90s. So yes, plan ahead. Buy long term care insurance if you can. Put money aside. Take good care of your health.
But once you have done that, leave the rest to God. Face what life has in store for you with his help.
And don’t be afraid to “burden” your kids. Because I believe that the blessing — for you and for them — will be far greater than the burden.
Bonacci is a syndicated columnist based in Denver.
