So much material, so little written…
It’s almost embarrassing. A blogger who has strong opinions and is often asked what he thinks about matters has just come through a whirlwind of subjects worthy of attention—lots of attention. The blogger, of course, is me.
An election has come and gone with all sorts of cliffhanging drama and claims of fraud and stolen votes.
The Capitol was ransacked by a mob after the President had called for an event where his supporters could show their support of him and their displeasure at what was was happening with the election. The imagery of the desecration of the Capitol was stunning and shocking to us all.
Evangelicals have had another high profile leader’s duplicitous lifestyle revealed and experienced all the sadness that comes with such news.
Tensions heightened along “racial” lines (I use that term advisedly and only as it is commonly used—someday I’ll write on why I don’t like that language). This time it was over whether the treatment of white rioters inside the Capitol was different than the treatment of minority rioters generally, and if they had been the actors in this situation.
Another evangelical controversy came at the same time. A group of seminary presidents (who are all white) denounced “Critical Race Theory” (which encompasses a mass of debated propositions and ideas related to race and society) as antithetical to the Gospel. A number of prominent black evangelical pastors disagreed strongly and then withdrew from the historically white denomination of which they had become a part.
These issues have inflamed passions and provided fertile ground for analysis and teaching. So, why have I been silent? Those who know me recognize that this is not “how I roll!” And it certainly makes little sense in the middle of launching a new and improved web space!
The answers are pretty straightforward, but their net effect has been unique in my life. So, let me tell you a bit of what lies beneath the lack of posts here.
Figuring out what’s next.
It is no surprise to readers of this blog that some pretty big decisions have had to be made in the last six months or so—I’ve written about them, and the Ministry Update page gives a clear record of that process and where we are in it—a very good place, I might add. But the decision to pursue our new ministry in global training has led to all sorts of other activities, including praying, support team building, thinking, and planning the steps I will be taking within our new ministry structure. This work will also involve travel, but travel that, right now, must be planned, canceled, and replanned due to the changing challenges of the pandemic.
Of course, what we do was only one aspect of what had to be figured out—another is where we would live as we do it. We have been enjoying Flower Mound as we have stayed with my parents. That provision for us was always going to be temporary, but it has turned out to be shorter than we anticipated (see below). So we have had to enter the world of house-hunting. Too bad HGTV wasn’t available to give us three choices. Timing had to change due to circumstances, and so we have had to look first for a new home, and then sell our previous one afterward—we have leases with tenants to honor there through the first of May. You do the math. Suffice to say, God’s graciousness to us didn’t end with a temporary home but in helping us secure a permanent one. We are scheduled to move into a new townhome in the middle of March, and then hope to see our Cedarville house sold soon after.
What I didn’t realize was that these decisions and the work involved in following through left me with less time and energy to spend thinking great thoughts or writing normal ones. And as I considered what we’ve been through personally and what those who were speaking out were experiencing in terms of attack and criticism from various corners, I wasn’t sure that I was ready to enter into the fray. Did I really want to express opinions and be vulnerable to attack? Did I want to risk the possibility that something I would say might reflect badly on my new ministry? Was I afraid? Perhaps.
But these were not the only diversions.
Helping my parents in tough transitions.
God’s providence in taking us from Ohio to Texas in June was never clearer than in the months following as we cared for my Mom and Dad in their home. They moved into this house shortly after we moved to Ohio, and have been here longer than any other house they’ve owned. My sister had lived here for a year before we moved in, and our coming and our circumstances meant we had more time than she did to devote to their needs. And those needs have only continued to grow. Mom has advancing Parkinson’s and was using a walker very slowly and unsteadily. Dad has been suffering from significant and progressive memory loss—more than we realized when we arrived. Since June, both conditions have deteriorated, and mental confusion has also arrived with Mom’s other Parkinson’s symptoms. While we took them to appointments, administered medications, prepared meals, and sought to take care of their other needs, we also recognized that we could not continue to take care of them at the level of need they were reaching. And their ability to live unsupervised and alone was gone.
In November, the decision was made (with their input and approval) for them to move into a facility where they would have their own apartment, but also have meals provided, cleaning services taken care of, and morning to evening assistance available. This took. place in early December. We are grateful for the team of people there.
But Mom took a couple of falls, and wound up in the hospital twice. Two weeks of in-patient rehab followed the second visit, but we still are waiting to see how much she regains of what strength she had. She has transitioned into a wheelchair at the advice of her medical team. We are trying to help both of them get into new “normal” routines.
This also meant that the house would need to be prepared for sale. First, everything that they didn’t take needed to be dispersed to family, sold, or disposed of. That became our job, with Kathy taking the lead and becoming a Facebook Marketplace “Master Marketer.” Weeks were spent listing and selling everything, and it is unfortunate that there is no video available of her helping a delightful (and petite) Burmese Christian couple carry a full-size china hutch out of the house and into a church van. We also lifted a piano into the bed of a pickup for a soldier who failed to bring his platoon! I write these words as I sit in a nearly empty house.
The house also had to be painted, which meant we had to move out of it for a week—repacking what we had unpacked six months previously for a week before moving back in until our new home is available.
In all of this, we are honored to serve my parents in these ways, but to say it is time-consuming would be an understatement.
It’s also thought-consuming and emotion-draining work. Dealing with parental “emergencies” that turn out to be mainly due to confusion rather than actual events is something you can prepare for but are reminders of both their frailty and your inability to help. Everyone talks about the role-reversal that takes place when children must care for their parents, but I’ve found it to be particularly challenging when it comes to carrying on with much of what I used to consider my “normal life.” I’m not talking about working—until recently I haven’t had other work to do. I’m talking about writing and reading, about engaging with people (yes, there’s COVID, but still…). I’m watching the people who brought me into this world and shaped so much of who I am as their lives deteriorate into a holding action against diseases that will inevitably take them. And as I see it happen on a daily basis, trying to be encouraging and helpful along the way, questions about ‘how,” and then “why,” and finally “what” come along,
How did this happen? How can it be helped, or fixed, or made a bit more bearable?
Why can’t something be done? Why are they both failing at the same time? Why do they have so few people that I know of who are reaching out?
What do I do next? What is going to happen next?
These are some of my questions for which answers are not easily apparent. There are many others.
Grieving and Healing
We can’t look back on the first half of 2020, or the middle, or the end as it bleeds into 2021 without considering the number of losses and sorrows we have experienced. Privately we have recounted them numerous times and marveled at their sheer number. To recount them here isn’t necessary, but it’s been a year made for my favorite quote from The Princess Bride— ”Get used to disappointment.“ It hasn’t been just disappointment, but death and loss and pain and uncertainty and…well, you know.
You cannot go through all of those things and not grieve. Yes, you can power through—the two of us are both driven to accomplish and check off our lists. But you have to grieve. You can’t lose loved ones—through death or departures—and not grieve. You can’t move away from home and work and home town and not grieve. You can’t watch loved ones suffer and not grieve.
And grief takes time, and thought, and energy that you don’t realize. So does healing. You know you haven’t “gotten there” when conversations either trail off or switch abruptly to subjects that are a part of your pain. Insisting a little too often or with too much certainty that you are “doing great” or even “better” is another indicator you aren’t there.
Thankfully, in the midst of all of this, we have had time on our hands to grieve and to heal. We’ve both benefited from alone time, time together, and insightful counselors in these months. I think grieving has been taking place in increasingly healthy ways and making less frequent appearances. Healing has come with that, and I am hopeful that its work will continue to yield good fruit.
And so, now, I take up my metaphorical pen once again (it’s actually a portable keyboard and much more legible than my penmanship). Is the past truly “in the past?” Not really. The past is what contributes to who we are in the present, and is God’s providential preparation for our future. But it feels like time to write again.
I’m glad.
