Wasting

This week will mark fifteen months since we all moved in together and brought Mom home. It’s been almost five months since I have posted anything. That’s because pretty much nothing different has happened.

When we first began, there was stuff to move and information to be acquired. There were decisions to be made, precedents to be set. We worked out the big bugs, and little ones still appear from time to time and need to be quashed.

Now we have a routine. Senna, Lexapro, methadone, colon cleanse. The caregivers come at regular intervals, and we dispense food and drugs. The bather comes, the nurse comes. People deliver gloves, briefs, wipes, unguents, and we collapse the boxes and put them into the recycling bin. The man from the pharmacy stands restively in the doorway, awaiting a signature.

I am a relative newcomer to the world of caregiving. I was once a take-charge person, the one who makes things happen. Now, I follow behind, responding to each downward step and wondering what it’s all about. It all seems like such a waste.

Christian theology includes the concept of the kingdom of God, which was inaugurated by Jesus Christ, includes all those who follow Him, and will culminate in the resurrection of the dead and the remaking of the entire universe. This is the project I’d rather be working on: Bible studies, Sunday School classes, worship, prayer, exhortation and encouragement. These are the offerings I used to make to God.

Now I wait on Mom and work on my degree, hoping to finish well and graduate to other things. Feeling guilty for wanting to move on.

The ancient Israelites used to make drink offerings to God. The wine was poured out on the altar. If there is no God, it was wasted. If there is a God who required such an offering, the wine was not wasted, but put to the best use.

Believing their God had commanded this offering, the Levites, time and again, poured out the wine. I believe in this God.

Are my caregiving efforts wasted because my mother does not remember them? Or are my efforts put to the best use, poured out for God?

To an unbeliever, this type of worship must appear to be a great waste. But the thought of pleasing my Father in heaven keeps me going, as I make offerings, morning and evening.