“Matt, I want you to make sure that you take care of your mother. She’s getting older and is a bit feeble,” directed Aunt Mary, a slight wisp of a woman, herself in her 80’s. My Aunt Mary was always a vigorous active woman who traveled to Eastern Europe and Haiti on mission trips each summer, right up until she laid down and went to sleep one night, waking up in eternity. She gave me these instructions on her last visit shortly after my mother had broken her hip. She and a friend drove from Memphis, Tennessee to Lubbock, Texas. Aunt Mary was a steady, integral part of my life. As long as I could remember, we’d enjoyed visiting Uncle Tommy, Charles, Dale, and her during our annual summer treks to Memphis. They lived in a nice two-story home; Uncle Tommy had built on some property just outside Memphis. Aunt Mary was always patient with us, even when we came in muddy and smelling of creek water from an afternoon session of swinging over the creek on Muscadine vines. She’d simply hose us off in the backyard, tossing us a few old towels to dry off. Those pleasant, hot, humid summers complete with fried chicken suppers remain bright, vivid signposts in my mind. Aunt Mary was kind and trustworthy; when she spoke I paid attention. So when my bright-eyed Aunt Mary, by then the matriarch of the family gave me instruction, there was only one choice, compliance.
So, as my parents walk the path of their twilight years, my brother and I work to take care of them in a way that she and the rest of the family might recognize and approve. My great grandmother, Grama-Harkey, lost her husband during the Great Depression. My grandmother, her three sisters, one husband, and assorted children lived together, moving through a series of farms scattered across the American Deep South. During these times of economic deprivation, they pitched in together and made sure that everyone had clothes to wear, food to eat, and a roof over their heads. I cannot imagine the workload my Uncle Waffie bore in order to make all of this happen. Despite the privations of the time, my family was happy and got along well together. I do not ever remember a cross word. Oh, they kidded each other, but laughter and joy mark my memories of growing up amongst my relatives. Without ostentation or showy displays, they took care of each other. After her husband’s death, Grama Harkey lived with her daughters, rotating through the four households. And, they never seemed to resent her presence. In fact, the closest they ever came to true argument was over who got Grama Harkey next. They all wanted her. Though she died when I was young, I still remember her calm abiding presence at family functions…she could cook a mean fried chicken. But the example of how her daughters loved her, taking care of her for all those years has also remained, an example of how to love.
As a culture, we do not love our families well. Frequently when family members struggle with life problems we shunt them aside, especially the elders. In our self-centeredness, we consider any disruption of our plans anathema, justifying isolation, and abandonment. In our mad rush to satiate desires, we deprive ourselves of the rich experience springing out of close association with those we owe our existence to. My family profited from the presence of the patriarchs and matriarchs. Their accumulated wisdom passed down through casual conversation around the table, kitchen, garage, or back porch enriched our lives, building a reservoir of experiential knowledge and a sense of grounding and continuity. I happened to be around when my Grandmother decided that she did not want to use her cast-iron cookware any more. She gave all but a very small frying pan to me. I was able to spread them out between my brother and my children, everyone getting a piece and I still had some left over. Now, whenever I cook cornbread, my grandmother, aunts, and great-grandmother look on, making sure I get it just right. Without delving into metaphysical nonsense, I would not know many things without these familial ties.
I would not know simple things such as, how to make cornbread with that delicious golden crust, how to tie a fishing hook on monofilament line, or how to complete simple car maintenance. I would also be ignorant to the deeper more complex issues of life, loving and staying true to my spouse for decades, putting in a good days work even when feeling poorly, holding fast to your faith despite the chaos of modern life, and facing dwindling physical prowess with calm grace. Those strong family ties, forged over time through continual presence, have and continue to teach me many things. Even after loved ones have passed on, lessons still immerge from conversations long past. Their voices and examples speak loudly across the gulf of time. In Hebrews 12, the writer speaks of a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us as an encouragement to perseverance. So, when we keep those familial bonds strong we add to this great cloud, building a great reservoir as it were of endurance for those inevitable times of trouble and testing. Our performance during those periodic difficult times speaks volumes about our character and faith.
We proclaim our faith in how we care for our families. Of course, there are times when declining health saddles loved ones with care requirements that overwhelm our abilities, necessitating full-time professional care. My own grandmother spent a short time in a care facility before succumbing to the remorseless passage of time. Those decisions are convoluted and painful for all involved and necessitate grace. And, it takes great sensitivity to sense when assistance is needed and tease out a path that most honors individual independence. But all too frequently, we relegate family members to a dreary life in some sort of facility more out of convenience than necessity. In I Timothy 5:7-8, Paul reminds us of the importance of caring for family. As we pour out our lives for our loved ones, we loudly proclaim the worth of the individual and the sanctity and dignity of human life. Maintaining familial ties serves as an integral part of our gospel witness. After all, we are not designed to live alone.
As we consider familial relations, we should remember that we need each other, even when it is inconvenient. Our society may encourage us to make decisions based primarily on what we perceive as our personal good; however, we stand to lose much, individually and as a community, by shuffling loved ones off to care facilities needlessly. We function best as a community. We thrive in a place where the individual is honored, accepted, and valued. When we marginalize the aged, simply because they are aged and perhaps inconvenient, we introduce a corrosive element into our society. Instead, we should cherish the richness and strength they bring into our community, honoring their work and worth as part of our family.
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