My 89 year old father-in-law has been a widower for the last 40 years, and lived by himself. He was slowly losing mobility and one day he could not get up after a fall. So we took him in our home ready for a long haul. When he started getting medical care close to our home, we were told he has a terminal condition and that he qualifies for a hospice care. My husband Graham made an unequivocal plea and decision that he should move in with us. When Tom came home after a week at the hospital, we were told he probably would last only a month or two.

Tom outlived the nurses’ predictions and was downing multiple energy drinks a day.  It was right in my living room that my father-in-law was suffering from heart failure and limited oxygen flow in his brain.  His condition changed his mild demeanor that I grew accustomed to for over twenty years that I had known him.  Tom spit out his pills every which way, used language I don’t want to repeat, and became physical around the clock. He refused to cover up. Tom was in denial over his medical condition, and insisted that he be taken home soon. We joked that the caretakers are in “Hunger Game” because so many came and went. The only two remaining were Christian professional.  They became irreplaceable.

My teacher mindset told me that this scene looks out of control and my children should not be exposed to it. I craved the usual routine, relative peace, and predictability in my home. There are plenty of nursing homes around, aren’t there? Yet my husband who is an only child and a dutiful son was not comfortable with that solution. Tom always connected with his own son, and Graham was not aware of the extent of his father’s behavioral issues. It felt wrong to nag Graham further, so I resorted to prayer.

I had no words to pray so I took the Bible and opened it randomly. The page read “support the weak, be patient with all.  See that no one returns evil for evil: rather, always seek what is good for each other and for all” (1Thessalonians 5:14b-15) Really? I was subjected to cursing, yelling, and demeaning behavior while I care for this man who no longer recognized me. After I got over the shock, I realized I could show Christ’s love in action.  My children must know by now I don’t condone cussing or violence. If I don’t flinch by the behaviors and act lovingly towards their grandfather, maybe that can teach a lesson on compassion and forgiveness that no lecture could ever muster. It also dawned on me that Jesus himself went through misunderstanding, physical abuse, and agonizing pain beyond comparison.

After I decided to accept the Word of God, I felt a renewed vigor and a buffer that keeps me from wallowing in emotions.  I made the resolve to do everything I can for this poor man and no matter the behavior or indifference, and my decision was to trudge forward. one day at a time. Since then it became easier to be proactive in caring for Tom both physically and emotionally.

Tom’s challenging behaviors led my teens to rise to the occasion and branch out to a new territory of care-taking, because Graham and I could not manage on our own. Josh literally jumped to help out and even canceled plans with friends whenever there was a need for lifting and moving his two-hundred pounder grandfather.  My evasive Kaitlyn kept her distance, but spoke kindly to Tom whenever she was called.  I gave her small manageable tasks like feeding and fixing his blanket, so she will remember someday that she was involved in the family business of caretaking. The outgoing and talkative Patrick was quite a trooper.  He would carry on a conversation with Tom when he was most incoherent or unreasonable. Patrick intervened on multiple occasions when Tom started falsely accusing his caretaker of mistreatment.

A few months rolled by since Tom’s arrival and the nurses were amazed that he was still around.  However Tom slowly seemed to lose interest in the world around him.  He talked less, and could no longer carry on a conversation over the phone.  His eyes seemed glazed, and his mind was elsewhere. He no longer said he was hungry or thirsty, and slept for long stretches of time.  Because Tom was not as needy, we decided that Graham sleep downstairs and forego the overnight caretakers.

It was one of these nights, that Tom expressed a desire to be buried next to his late wife in the double plot where she rests. Graham could hardly believe his ears because of Tom’s longstanding denial of his illness.  A few nights later while drifting in and out of sleep, Tom appeared lucid. With no context, he abruptly complimented Graham that he has been a great son to him. Tom rarely expressed fond feelings verbally so the words of acknowledgement touched Graham like a gentle spring rain in the desert.  Graham quickly reciprocated and the two went to sleep. Next day Tom stopped drinking water.

Within a few days, the nurse made it clear that Tom is “transitioning”.  While the oxygen tank was going full throttle, Tom had not spoken in days. We played choir music because Tom used to sing in the choir.  We were told hospice patients can still hear the world around them even if they don’t say much. Soon the morphine dosage was doubled per nurse’s advice because Tom appeared to be in distress. That night Graham went over to his bed and told him “it is time to go home” as he mentioned all the people who have gone before him. Graham sang his favorite song and stroked his hair. My father-in-law passed within an hour.

I look back and think, if I had dug my heels on keeping Tom in my home and insisted on sending him away because I wanted my version of peace, we would have missed out on that connection, reconciliation, and closure at the end of Tom’s life.  Sometimes things are not clear-cut as they seem.  The right thing to do may be difficult and messy.

After Tom passed, I noticed there was more open communication and a renewed sense of unity in my family. Tom was the glue that brought us together. I had no idea that my trial would be so short and God was only asking for so little of me: open my heart and my home to this sick man who raised my husband. Prayer, discernment, and commitment to my family have paved the way for God’s wondrous works.

The most welcome change was that my teens were acting less guarded and more natural. Our relationship has gone from solid sheet of ice that shunned life from growing to sunlight peeking through the dark cloud and new life waiting to spring up. Watching their frail grandfather being cared by their parents, caretakers, and medical professionals seemed to have given my teens a different perspective in life. When my children took part in caretaking, they most likely knew in their hearts it is the right and loving thing to do.

A new atmosphere has filled our home, as we are joined by team effort and mutual respect because everyone pitched in. Tom became the glue that held us together, and that bond is still here as our eldest have left home for college 6 months later. Spring has come after a dreary miserable winter in my parenting journey. The Lord led me to a fruitful ministry right in my home!