For the time being, since I find myself on the fence about posting to the blog I think maybe I shall just clean out innumerable drafts and finish up snippets of things...
There is no escape.
I have to go up and see the EYOC on the holiday, it’s only right. So, when I got up there earlier today and walked into his room I found him sprawled across the bed, perpendicular to the head of the bed. Whether he was trying to get in or out of it, I couldn’t really tell.
So, without him even turning around I asked him if he wanted me to help him.
Muscles from hand to foot
Completely covered in uninterrupted skin
My man
Signals command the leg
To follow orders coming down from headquarters
Why then am I in bed?
I guess my man's fallen out with my head
May I direct your attention to the following simile
You’re like the coasts of an ocean
Buried beneath is a submarine cable
Connecting the opposite shores that surround it
My man
How can he stand?
Your fingers could encircle clear around the ankle
My man won’t walk again
In conflict with express instructions given by the brain
Why can’t the message be sent?
I guess my man’s fallen out with my head
When something happens to drag on the floor of the ocean
For instance an anchor or mooring
The cable can be disrupted and even be severed
Which halts the transmission across it
There is no way to repair the break
My man
Muscles from hand to foot
Completely covered in uninterrupted skin
My man
Signals command the leg
To follow orders coming down from headquarters
My man
How can he stand?
My man
Muscles from hand to foot
Completely covered in uninterrupted skin
My man
Won’t walk again
[and that’s where I stopped]
There were many moments like that, many moments over the last years of his life where I found myself in the unlikely role of helper to my tormentor.
What does a statement like that mean though?
Well, I was talking to a friend last weekend. She finds herself trodding a similar path to the one I took several years back. Over the course of our long conversation that day, she lamented what a tortuous road she is on.
She finds herself taking care of an aging parent.
Beyond that, she finds it often to be the most thankless of jobs. I know what that’s like. Responsibility isn’t asked for, it is often thrust on a person and how they act when the onus is placed upon them is the measure of their character.
Is it possible to show mercy to someone when they are at their weakest? Certainly a display of mercy is appropriate when someone has proven themselves to be kind but, what about when they have a history of behaving like a petty despot?
Being part of a generation raised by the television, there was a seemingly endless parade of perfect nuclear families on display each and every day of my life. Perfect and there to provide an endless yardstick with which to measure the dysfunction of one’s own family.
What fun.
Anyway, if you have been crushed under the heel of a tyrant, the question is whether or not you can be merciful when your roles are reversed and if you can, is this the truest test of what is called a Christian ideal?
Let’s go a step further...
Does it matter? Are we beholden to some kind of retribution at the end of our lives? Let’s say we’re not, then what is the motivation to be merciful?
Well, this is what I was talking about with my friend.
She found herself in a pit of despair. It wasn’t so much she was doing a bad job overseeing her charge. Actually, it was anything but, she has done an incredible job. However, throughout she has been challenged and tested by the very person whose care she is overseeing. She has been berated, insulted, belittled, cursed... you name it. Still she’s hanging in there for some reason and while she’s hanging in there she questions her sanity for doing so.
I know these feelings well.
And I told her clearly, in as encouraging a way as I could: You are doing an incredible job and your parent is lucky to have you.
She has siblings and while they aren’t bad people, they have made themselves scarce if you get my drift. It doesn’t mean they’re evil, just not up to the challenge. It’s a test, one of life’s toughest tests. She is coming through it with flying colors and I told her there will come a day when she recognizes just how good a job she did and she will be able to look at herself in a mirror and be proud, maybe not proud even so much as knowing she did the right thing.
Many moments, I found myself in a position where I had to step up. Deep down inside, for whatever reason, there was this overwhelming sense of responsibility I could never escape, even if I wanted to. It was a matter not just of seeing something through but also doing a good job. I paid a high price for that, higher than many people might realize but I know I did the right thing.
When I walked into that room many months back and saw a small, bitter man trying to right himself, fighting with all his might against the insurmountable enemy that is time, I could not help but feel mercy and compassion. The words to that song rang in my head and I could feel myself tearing up. I could feel sad over one who at once seemed so powerful being struck down and weaker and more helpless than a baby.
This is what I tried to convey to my friend. The simple fact sometimes, you have to do the right thing if for no one other than yourself.
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