Advocacy and Affirmation

The world around us lurches from crisis to crisis, which is a condition many family caregivers would call “the usual.”

We find ourselves doing a bit of advocacy for our son, Joey. I need to stay away from TMI out of respect for his housemates, staff and service agency. Long story short, the long quarantine without their day programs and social visits is creating anxiety among the residents. One of them is having meltdowns, and our son is sometimes a target of these.

The staff floated some solutions, including moving Joey to a different room to allow greater staff control of the situation. We (Melissa and me, mom & dad, GUARDIANS) looked at each other and were in immediate agreement that this would only increase Joey’s anxiety and, in plain talk, wouldn’t be fair.

So we’ve dug in our heels and are arguing for other solutions. It’s not pleasant. We know that the housemate who is melting down is NOT a bully, but a person unable to process and express his frustration in more socially appropriate ways.

It’s weird to be in this place again. We thought that we were done with advocacy stuff once Joey was out of the school system. And, to be honest, we’re a bit spoiled as our experience of his service agency has been overwhelmingly positive.

But, as we said in our letter, We do not want Joey to have to leave his current room downstairs.  We are confident that this view is an accurate reflection of Joey’s desire. That is, even with great people caring for him, we know him best. We are still his parents by blood (and sweat and tears) and his guardians by law. So advocate we will.

The title of this piece mentions affirmation, and there’s been some sweet stuff on that front. During the quarantine, we’ve been making and delivering dinner to the group home every Friday. Here’s a big pan of spaghetti and meatballs, plus some sides, on the way last Friday.

The house staff put together a thank you, to which all of the residents affixed their signature or mark:

Gestures like this are solid gold. Care giving can feel fruitless and thankless, and this bit of affirmation lifted our spirits. And they topped it with a special card from Joey recognizing our 30th wedding anniversary:

Joey’s not that lyrical or loquacious, so we know the staff put some heart into the message. But that’s a real live Joey signature endorsing it, and no doubt he affixed the stickers.

Affirmation sneaks up sometimes. I’m a daily Bible reader. We all need sources of inspiration and encouragement, and as a Christian I find mine there. But it doesn’t always tell me just what I want to hear – many days I read right into a discovery of my worst self in action and that hurts. However…

…in the days just before delivering that spaghetti dinner to the group home, my reading schedule took me to Ecclesiastes 11:1-2,

Cast your bread upon the waters,
for you will find it after many days.
Give a portion to seven, or even to eight,
for you know not what disaster may happen on earth.

That is, what you give away comes back to you in some way, and those who care for the needs of others are under God’s care in the crises that come again and again. I really perked up at “a portion for eight,” since that’s our planning number for the Friday dinners.

I also bumped into Jesus’ words in Luke 14:13-14,

But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.

It hit me as an affirmation and made me misty eyed. We started doing these Friday dinners just as a way to stay connected. Our motive was not all generosity – we wanted an excuse to at least see and wave to Joey. Yet in Jesus’ words I recognized that care giving, by its nature, can make us the hands and feet of the divine Lord, doing the things that please God as we serve others for Him, not for what we can get out of it.

For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just... caregivers know that the rewards are not always here and now; if we expected that, we would go mad. Heck, many of us are already about half past crazy. But it is a profound affirmation to hear that the Creator of all things notices us and can make a glorious future for us, whatever crises, failures and let downs we lurch through here and now.

Memorial Day: Autism Among the Fallen?

A few years ago the media picked up on Israel’s active recruitment of people on the autism spectrum to serve in certain specialized military roles.

While the Armed Forces here in the U.S. automatically disqualify applicants with autism, there are waiver provisions allowing people with the diagnosis to serve. The standards vary from branch to branch.

Historically, it is very likely that people with autism served in our Armed Forces. For one thing, autism is a recent diagnosis and many generations of autistic Americans would have been seen as little more than “a bit different.”

In wartime, all kinds of standards go by the wayside. Plenty of Americans, due to patriotic fervor or financial desperation, lied about their age, medical condition or immigration status to sign up for combat – and the government, desperate to fill the ranks, didn’t give them too hard a screening. Such was the case with one of our most decorated soldiers of WWII, Audie Murphy.

So it’s likely that autistic Americans have gone in harm’s way for the rest of us.

Identifying them is not easy. Through the middle of WWII, autism wasn’t even a known diagnosis.

Which means that those autistic Americans who gave the last full measure of devotion are like those in The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which is inscribed

Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God

For families with autism, this Memorial Day might be more of a blur, as so many have been locked in at home and locked out of schools and other programs for months. A holiday is like any other day under Covid-19 measures.

Yet we should pause and be grateful for the sacrifices of those who’ve gone before, which surely included people like those in our care. And we should realize that those in our care might be tomorrow’s heroes. There’s a lot we just can’t know, so we soldier on in our various ways.

Featured image is of Black Hills National Cemetery in South Dakota.

Since You Can’t Take Mom Out To Dinner…

Not to discount the work of husbands, dads, brothers and other caregivers, but women are the historic majority of caregivers.

Mother’s Day is at hand in the U.S., and it’s shaping up to suck. Everybody’s been stuck at home together with school closures, work shut downs and furloughs and quarantines. Restaurants are closed, so mom doesn’t get a dinner out (and the restaurants lose another important date for staying profitable and keeping folks employed).

Now, I’m a decent cook and could whip up one of my wife’s favorites at home, but I’m at work most of this coming Mother’s Day AND she’s under the weather and talking about a menu just makes her queasy.

Adding insult to injury is our local son stuck in his quarantined group home. 3 miles away and we can’t get mom and him together. Henry the Golden Retriever better make extra effort to be a good boy this Sunday.

So,with all this woe duly wailed, I’ll at least offer this online tribute to care giving moms, in particular my Melissa. Enjoy some pics of her adding love and joy to our lives…

She brings a smile when Joey’s grumpy.
She goes to restaurants where she can’t eat most of what’s on the menu because it makes Joey smile.
She raised a Naval Officer!
She shares love with our friends’ kids, too!
She indulged me in a Sake Bomb after we moved Joey into his group home, even though she was feeling less festive than I.
Even though Joey doesn’t drink, she took him to a grown up venue for his 21st birthday burger!
She’s adopted a number of other family members over the years.
She married me and May 26th will be 30 years (that’s Pearl Anniversary if you’re sending presents).
Join me in wishing her a sweet Mother’s Day!

Reach out this weekend and show some love to some of the locked in moms and other caregivers. There are plenty of women out there who, by caring for those not their own flesh and blood, should be honored as moms just the same…

Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord; also his mother, who has been a mother to me as well. (Romans 16:13)

The weekend’s getting long

Holidays are seldom restful for caregivers.  Supports like schools and community centers are closed, the ones in our care can be upset by disrupted routines, and our instinctive savoring of “time off” crashes into extra hours of greater demand.

The need to pace ourselves and embrace our reality is acute.  Family care giving is not contained between punches of a workplace clock and seldom gives the satisfaction of “done.”

Memorial Day provides a long weekend.

The long Memorial Day weekend honors those who died in combat.  As one hears at funerals, they rest from their labors.

The long weekend indulges the living who have the freedom to travel, party or just be couch potatoes for a bit.

For family caregivers, it’s just long.

If you have a care giving family on your block, they might not be able to come to the park or even the party in the next yard.

But you might knock on the door just the same to drop off a plate of barbecued goodness and with your kindness make the weekend a little less long on their end.

 

“To The Other Mother”

Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord; also his mother, who has been a mother to me as well.  (Romans 16:13)

Joey 21 McNally

Mother’s Day is here  – let’s show some love for all the moms!  I want to honor Melissa, not only for giving birth to our two sons, but for the long term momming that went into raising a son with special needs to adulthood.  (re: the picture – no, he doesn’t drink.  It was just a milestone to celebrate his 21st birthday in a place that required him to reach 21.  Strictly a burger run).

I know from years of church experience that piling on the Mother’s Day sentiment can have unintended consequences.  Women who are not birth moms, or who can’t be, or who lost a child, or who are estranged from their kids might perceive a “second class female” label being slapped on them when church services set aside the Gospel and function more like a Hallmark holiday.

I don’t think that means we should eliminate Mothers Day but we should be aware of its limits.  Giving birth is not the only value to a woman’s existence and, frankly, there’s more to being a mom than giving birth and having a baby shower. We need to watch out for romanticizing and minimizing what should be serious, sacrificial and lifelong effort.  (Motherhood in this fullest sense is quite Christ-like).

The full expression of motherhood involves care giving.  I’ve watched Melissa’s role continually evolve as our boys age.  She’s always their care giver, even as they grow in adult independence.  She continues to be a source of “home” for them, even across distance.

I quoted Saint Paul at the top of these thoughts.  In an easy-to-skip ending to one of his letters, where he’s writing a lot of “Say ‘Hi’ to so-and-so” pleasantries, he mentions a fellow Christian named Rufus and then asks his readers to greet Rufus’ unnamed mother, who, Paul writes, has been a mother to me as well. 

What form this took we don’t know.  We know that Paul’s ministry kept him on the road; perhaps Rufus’ mom gave the Apostle a sense of home base and family when he visited Rome.  Paul mentions ailments in some of his letters; perhaps Rufus’ mom gave him respite and comfort.  And Paul’s life was full of hardships and hostile confrontations; perhaps the mothering he received from this unnamed woman was in simple hospitality, human warmth and affirming words when they crossed paths.  In a world that beat Paul physically and emotionally, this lady’s glad hug and smiling “Welcome back, stranger!” would have been the medicine of motherly love (I remember the days when our kids seemed to get better from bugs by just sitting on Melissa’s lap for a bit.)

In her book Teaching Diamonds in the Tough, Cleo Lampos includes a chapter entitled To The Other Mother.  She lauds those who step in to give care in ways that make them mothers to the world’s needy children of all ages,

DiamondsIn our family, my Aunt Lois served as our unofficial foster care system.  At one time or another, Aunt Lois took care of most of my cousins for varying lengths of time and for differing reasons.  Her frame house in mid-Iowa became a refuge for my sister and me for over a year as my mother battled with an alcoholic husband in another state.  Aunt Lois provided stability and protection at a time when my sister and I displayed emotional signs from abuse.  She infused us with hope because we had lost ours.  Aunt Lois became “our other mother.” 

To women like… Aunt Lois, a lot of adults owe debts of gratitude that can never be paid.  The “other mother” saved our lives.

So I take this Mother’s Day on the calendar to give thanks for all of the mothers on the job out there; those like Melissa who gave birth and continue to nurture those lives decades later,  and to all the “other mothers” who give care and bring forth new life when others have the blues…

 

 

Because

I’ve been whining about the sorting of post-care-giving issues, haven’t I?

OK, here comes a celebration of the freedom that seeps back into life.

Hatch 2018Today I’m roasting Hatch Chiles.  Most people are all about pumpkin products as summer turns to autumn.  But these beauties from New Mexico make the season for me.  Wish I could share the aroma with you.

It is not a fast process, but I can take my time on a blessedly slow Saturday morning.  Did I mention the aroma?

I’m not having to watch over my shoulder, or listen for booms and bangs, or make sure someone isn’t too close to the oven.

Because today I don’t have to.

Last night we had friends over for some prayer and Bible study, and we sat out on our recently cleaned deck because it was a lovely evening and because nobody had to stay in the house on safety patrol, or to administer meds, or clean up a bathroom, or or or or anything else.

Because we didn’t have to.

If you’re in the midst of care giving (as we were for more than two decades), savor your respite time.  It is a break from what you’re in all the time, but it is also a taste of something that is coming.

Because what you’re doing today will not be forever.

The Book of Common Prayer captures what I’m trying to say, albeit in the cosmic sense,

Almighty God, who after the creation of the world didst rest
from all thy works and sanctify a day of rest for all thy
creatures: Grant that we, putting away all earthly anxieties,
may be duly prepared for the service of thy sanctuary, and
that our rest here upon earth may be a preparation for the
eternal rest promised to thy people in heaven; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Recovery reversal

Our son with autism has Seizure Disorder in his overall diagnostic and safety data.  The seizures came on with puberty and were terrifying intrusions in his teen years.

Now he’s in his 20s and the seizures have faded but not gone away.  They show up now and again with much less intensity.  Well, for him.  Not for us.

It used to be that a seizure knocked him out for a good 24 hours.  He would sleep and snore or at least breathe heavily until a groggy reentry into our world.  ‘Twas up to us to stay alert and watch over him.

Last night he was here for dinner and a small seizure broke through.  He knew it was coming; he knelt on a big beanbag chair in our front room and hugged the dog, protecting himself from the risk of a fall.  (Confused the heck out of the dog, though, as our son seldom interacts with the pets).

We thought, Wow, that’s sweet!  He’s hugging the dog… Then we noticed his forearms were rigid and vibrating.

It ended quickly.  We rolled him on his side on the beanbag chair but he was up and talking in a few minutes.  He went on to have full dinner and a pleasant evening amusing himself and deflecting our efforts to engage him in anything that seems like work (that’s normal – a sign that he’s fine).

Today he was all smiles, had a big breakfast and is off to his day program.

We, in contrast, continue to recover.  Neither of us slept well, as we hovered on the edge of sleep listening for sounds of another seizure.  I took a sick day from work to recover.

It is good that he’s moved on to his group home, because we are so absolutely aging out as caregivers.

Today I feel for the folks who care for (and age with) their spouses, who don’t have group homes or agencies to take over the work.  As one said,

They looked at my diet. They looked at my life style, my BMI and they are like “There is no reason for this!” I am almost diabetic and there is nothing to indicate WHY I should be – STRESS!!!!! That is one of the worst things on a body – my body can’t take much more STRESS! Despite the yoga, the chammomile, the meditation, the walking and support -being a caregiver is MONOTOMY PLUS and horribly stressful. There is no cure.

Pardon my language, but…

One of those days…

…on which I woke up at a mellow pace, had a fruitful time in prayer, went to the gym, and am now brewing some coffee with little on the agenda until a friend’s graduation party this afternoon.

In other words, the kind of dawning weekend most folks desire, but which is too often eclipsed.  This is especially true over the years of care giving.  Weekends?  Holidays?  Vacations?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

20180515_123848I read a novel for a library book club (yes, I can go to things like that if so inclined these days).  The title evokes some of my perception.  Care giving calls on us to bury a good chunk of life, especially our many preferences if we are true to the task.

Aspects of who I am are being excavated these days.  It’s uncomfortable rediscovering them.  Was I lazy or a failure to have let them get buried?  Shouldn’t I have kept life in better balance?

Or are such burials loving sacrifices?

These and questions like them exercise my heart today.  I am thankful that I have the time and space to ponder them.

 

The Dignity of Risk

Tim had a chance to speak to the staff of a non-profit community support provider.  Many of the attendees wore blue in support of Autism Awareness Month.

ABS Blue April 2018It was a chance to remind these care giving allies how much they mean to families like ours.

Tim shared a story from our book, recounting how we threw a little party to offer a personal goodbye to one of our son’s music therapists before we moved to another state. He noted that educators, medical providers, therapists and all kinds of other direct support folks don’t hear from families unless and until something is wrong.  Our interactions tend to be steeped in bad news. We need to find ways to say thank you and, as the New Testament puts it, encourage one another and build one another up (1 Thessalonians 5:11).

As we shared in an earlier post, community support agencies have the heart and vision to provide all kinds of help to people with special needs and their families, but are hindered by lack of staff.  When Tim asked his audience what things families, churches, community groups and other neighbors could do to enhance their work, responses included

  • Identify people suited to care giving and encourage them to consider it as a career
  • Help the public understand the work of service providers and why they do it
  • Provide meaningful interactions and opportunities in the community for the people receiving services
  • Express gratitude to caregivers
  • Engage in advocacy work on behalf of community support agencies

One of the people present spoke of care giving as possessing the dignity of risk.  Caring for people with special needs means going down unfamiliar paths, trying out the untested, sometimes trusting intuition in opposition to common sense, and learning to center efforts on the person in our care instead of our own expectations of “what’s best.”

Families have this risk, dignity and all, dropped upon us when our loved one is diagnosed.  We accept the risk out of love and duty.

We are blessed when folks who don’t have to accept it choose the dignity of risk as a way of life.  May their tribe increase.

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.  (Luke 10:2)

Not another list

I know, I know, you try to chill with some time surfing the internet and you are bombarded with the 5 Things You Must Do and the 10 Things You Should Never Do and the 3 Things You Absolutely Must Stop Doing.

So many experts available to overhaul and repair our lives.

Bumped into a list this morning, but it’s good.  It’s not loaded with absolute, must, always, never or any of that arrogance.  Just four good ideas, especially if you’re not a caregiver but care about someone who is.

This one most resonated with me:

Time is the greatest gift. Many caregivers have told me that caregiving locks them into whirlwind daily routines of attending to others’ needs. Above all else, they miss time for themselves — to go to the salon or bank, read a book, clean the house or catch up on sleep. The greatest comfort you may offer is the gift of time. Offer to sit with care receivers while caregivers take a break. Pick up supplies for caregivers so they can stay home and relax. Try to make yourself available to listen as often as they need to vent.

Tony Gaines Starz

Yes, me (on the right) doing stupid guy stuff with a friend makes me a better caregiver.

Things you might consider small favors are solid gold to a caregiver.  YOU just being around can be a gift.  Even in the midst of a tornado of chores, an adult friend with whom to joke, whine, opinionate or otherwise have a peer level, non-care-giving interaction is a blessing.

Go check out the list of four suggestions.  You’ll find you have a lot to give by just being you.  And in caring for us caregivers, you are improving our peace, strength and focus to help those in our care.