Monday, March 13, 2017

A World Away

Last night I had the very special opportunity to eat dinner with four of my greatest treasures, 3 granddaughters and 1 grandson. It was the usual mix of requests for water, the normal turf battles over dining chairs, and the spill zone was larger than usual. Afterwards was the always exciting bath times, reading a book before bed and prayers. Oh, and the agonizingly slow getting pajamas on by a 2-year-old who insisted she could do it herself. Grandaddies drink these moments in like a thirsty plant in the desert.

Another part of my day was spent in a trustees meeting at Global Samaritan Resources where we discussed an event to be held in Abilene on March 25. It was the usual discussion of logistics and money and personnel. But running like a low current under it all was the urgency and passion of these men and women to help others that they did not know, nor would ever meet. But the goal is simple, feed those who are trapped in refugee camps who would rather go home, or as a second resort to go somewhere safe. But trapped and starving in extreme and dangerous situations.

The arguments for and against immigrants has been more than vetted. Even American Christianity can't seem to find any middle ground. Some oppose all immigration for security sake. Others promote full immigration status to all and work out the security later. And there seems to be someone spouting any point in between. In this sense we are a divided nation, and a divided Christian world view. It is not my intent or desire to argue any of these points. Everyone has a found an opinion that works for them and I haven't the skills to persuade otherwise.

But the Christian world view calls for us to help. I think James said that religion that God finds pure and faultless is to look after the orphans and widows. On that we can all agree. So Global Samaritan has found a way to help that does not alter the security of our loved ones.

Global Samaritan Resources acquires and supplies fortified food in boxes. Each holds 216 servings of life-sustaining meals. Or to put it in human terms,  enough food for a family of 6 for a month. A Month. This is the first level of Christian help by Global Samaritan. Instead of saying, "Be fed and filled, I'm praying for you." Global Samaritan is putting food on the plate, sent with prayer and hope.

The second level is genius. Local church kids, local school kids, local grandkids, local kids of all sorts and status are invited to come and decorate the boxes. To send a message around the world to other kids that they are loved and thought of and prayed for. The creativity is unleashed on these boxes by kids for kids. The lesson here is that there is another kid somewhere in the world who cares and loves these refugee kids. Do you see the teaching moment happening?

And the third level is just as vital as all the rest, but far more subtle. Scripture tells us that good overcomes evil, not the other way around. We will never be able to bomb ISIS into understanding our love for them or the world. But we can provide food and hope and prayer for the true victims in all this. The refugee kids did nothing to deserve this except to be born in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if we can provide a moment of compassion it will destroy the world of hate they have come to know. And we do it with a beautifully painted and created box that costs $50 to develop.

As I watched 4 of my 7 grandkids last night eating well, playing with their cousins, and sleeping safe I thought of another 63 year old grandfather. A grandfather who is perhaps watching his grandkids go without another meal, to see them try to sleep with no food, no warmth, no rescue. And the panic rises in me about what I would do and think. What ways could I help with no resources? It is at that moment that a box arrives, colorfully painted with food. And I would praise whatever God brought this salvation to my greatest treasures. Grandaddies everywhere know the gratitude when someone takes a moment and cares. And I would lift a silent Thank You to that other granddaddy who took a moment and few dollars to send a moment of peace.

Godspeed to all the kids who will decorate, the parents and grandparents who will donate, and to a God who fills us with compassion instead of self interest.
Don

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Caring for a Memory

Over the past couple of years I have been helping my dad with his finances (checkbook, making sure the bills are paid, advocating for him with the investment people, etc). Dad is still aware, but has experienced an emerging confusion about how to deal with all this. So once a month I go in and visit and balance his check book and ward off the "leaches" that attach themselves to seniors.
His emotional progression has been from being angry at himself about not being able to keep track. The most common phrase, "You don't know what it like to be stupid!" And all my assurances that he is not stupid, but is just entering another phase. He was aware of his lapses in memory and ability discern the changing world and it made him mad. Now he doesn't realize he has asked the same questions over and over in just the last few minutes. So our visits have become an endless conversation loop about the same concerns he seems to be focused on at the moment. The upside is that he no longer gets angry about forgetting, because he doesn't realize he has forgotten.

For those who don't know him or remember him from years ago, it is hard to realize the difference. Until the last few years he was a funny, accommodating, ACTIVE guy, with no deceit in him at all. To my chagrin I have fallen far short of this model. He always had something going and was looking for new things to do. His common directive to me as a kid was, "While you are resting, you need to...." and give me chore to do. I never realized I spent that much time "resting".

My emotional journey through this has been another matter. Over the past few years I have become the one "directing" and he was the one responding. The role shift was painful. There is something in me that still wants to be the good son, to be obedient, to emulate the best aspects of my dad. To have him proud of me. And to be the one who has to shift him away from what he wants to do and be feels is in direct conflict with the "good son" perception.

We are moving he and his wife to an assisted living facility. A move he has made clear he does not want to make. And for the first time in decades we are in direct conflict about the direction of his life. The decisions being made are for the first time for me a direct violation of the obedient son model. And it is painful for me as well as for him.

I have noticed in myself a very gradual slide after each visit towards depression about the decisions I am having to make. And after this last visit, while eating dinner with my bride, I broke down completely. Surprising us both. But it made me wonder why this was so difficult? Everyone goes through this at some point. Part of the answer seemed to be buried somewhere in the knowledge that I was struggling with the two versions of my dad. The version I have known for the first 60 years of my life would never have needed or tolerated this intrusion by me. But the last 2-3 years have shown me another version of my dad. The one I am helping is confused, he is less capable physically. He needed my help. But this is not the dad that I grew up with.

So I am caring for a memory. When he is finally gone, I will not reflect on this current version. My memories will swirl around the funny guy that always found chores for me, the guy who would be moving before my mother or his current wife could finish a request of him, the guy who was always working outside, The guy who believed that God wanted him to do something, the guy who never said anything negative about anyone. The decisions now being made are in honor of the first version, in honor of all he has meant to me. Realizing this has lifted the depression a bit.
So to honor the first version, I care for the current one.

Godspeed to all out there who have gone through this. You have my respect. Growing up is not very much fun.
Don