A caregiver’s reflection on busyness, identity, and the fear that everything will fall apart if we stop.
I guess I was overdue for a round of the yucks. The flu or something like it swept through our apartment last weekend. My recovery was quick, except for the lingering cough. The last few times I’ve been sick, the cough stuck around for a couple of months. Hoping that won’t be the case this time.
While I was down, I started reading Paul David Tripp’s Journey to the Cross Lenten devotional. On Day 4, he said this, “God intends suffering to pry open our hands so we let go of the things of this earth and hold more tightly to Jesus.” That matches my theological understanding. But the far more important question is, does it match my practice?
Over the years, I’ve learned that when I’m sick, God often uses it to get my attention. But other times, I think he uses it to get me to slow down – yes, to listen for his voice, but also to rest, recharge, reconnect with those who are closest to me.
As I reflect on it, I ended up saying no to some activities I really enjoy, including worship on Sunday, meeting with a group of guys on Monday night. And it meant skipping a medical appointment.
Was God prying open my hands so I would hold more tightly to Jesus?
I don’t know.
I do know that, as a caregiver, I feel the need to be reliable. And that keeps me running from one activity to the next – doctor appointments, pharmacy runs, laundry, errands, taking care of meals, etc. It all has to be done. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
As I write that, I realize it makes me sound more like Martha – the responsible one from Luke 10 – than Mary, who chose to sit at the feet of Jesus. “Martha [overly occupied and too busy] was distracted with much serving” (Luke 10:40 AMPC).
Overly occupied. Check. Too busy. Check. Distracted with much serving. Check mate.
Jesus told Martha that a person only has need of a few things, and that Mary made a wise decision by opting for that which cannot be taken away from her. She trusted that what mattered most would not be undone by her stillness.
I can get caught up in production schedules (yes, I actually have one for my writing and editing business), fellowship schedules (yes, I meet with the same guys on the same days each week) and long, unrealistic checklists. None of them are bad, but they can all be taken away when the flu or other illness strikes.
Maybe this is the prying Tripp wrote about. It’s not a dramatic revelation but enforced stillness, with tissues on the nightstand and nowhere to be.
