God, help me understand
the difference between honoring my parents
and taking over.
Neighbors at the cancer-care house where Xochitl’s mother resided shared a small feast with Xochitl and her mom on a day they desperately needed a break. In return, her mother insisted on creating a thank-you dinner for them.
“As my mom gathered the ingredients for that meal, her humming bounced off the gray walls of the community kitchen,” Xochitl reports. “I pressed my lips together as I diced onions, chopped bell peppers, and minced cilantro, but eventually I spoke up. ‘You’re not supposed to cook, Mom. Doctor’s orders.’ ”
Her mother’s hands, weakened by her treatments, trembled as she lifted the lid of the slow cooker. “Finish cutting those vegetables and stop nagging,” she said.
When her mother reached to open the cupboard next to the stove, Xochitl dropped her knife, wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, and rushed to her mother’s side. “Let me help you.”
“I can do this.” She let her hand rest on her daughter’s shoulder. “I need to.”
Xochitl loosened her grip and set the frying pan from the cupboard onto the stove. “I’m sorry.”
“You know you miss my cooking.”
“I do.” She missed allowing herself to need her mom’s comfort too.
“Placing my hand over hers,” Xochitl wrote, “I rubbed her soft skin and swallowed an all-too-familiar longing for the simpler times before Mom’s bone-marrow transplant. ‘You’d better get busy sautéing those veggies, then.’ ”
Her mother’s eyes glistened. “And you can check the pork. This time.”
As our parents age, it’s inevitable that we’ll face moments when our desire to protect them interferes with their need to be who they are, to maintain their grip on their skills and interests, to be alive, vital, adventuresome, clever—and to prove it.
You may have heard the term “helicopter parenting” in a news report about hovering parents. It refers to “a style of parents who are overfocused on their children,” says Carolyn Daitch, PhD, director of the Center for the Treatment of Anxiety Disorders near Detroit. “They typically take too much responsibility for their children’s experiences and, specifically, their successes or failures,” Dr. Daitch says.
It doesn’t take much imagination to translate that into the realm of aging parents. Our caring about them and our desire to protect them can press us into overdrive. We cringe at the endless list of concerns for our aging parents’ safety, protection from predatory financial advisors or relatives or both, dangers that sound similar to our warnings to toddlers. “Don’t touch that. You’ll get burned!” “Be careful with that.” “Watch your step.” “You need to eat more.” “Here, let me do that for you.”
Will we helicopter parent our aging parents? An occupational or physical therapist might watch our attempts to do things for our parents and advise, “Please don’t let your desire to help turn into taking over for your parent. Stand by while they try. The length of time it takes will threaten your efficiency-expert mind-set. But the success will accomplish much more than the mere task itself. Serve as a spotter, not as a substitute, unless their health or safety is at stake.”
Few children would learn to ride bicycles if Dad never stopped hanging on, providing an artificial source of balance.
Few of us would have learned how to use chopsticks if someone consistently ripped them from our hands and said, “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Here’s a fork.”
Few of us would have gained a sense of accomplishment in any task if we hadn’t been afforded the opportunity to try.
Even professional gymnasts use protective mats and spotters. But they’re allowed to attempt the back flip. They’re allowed to fail, over and over, always with help nearby and a watchful eye on their progress.
There’s no denying that it’s different with aging parents. They’re not young and agile. Their bones don’t heal easily if they slip and fall. But are there times when we need to sit down and ask our parents what level of help they’d like from us.
“Do you want me to open this box for you, Dad?” (Do you want me to serve as your spotter?)
“Would it help if I made it a point to water your plants each week, Mom? Or do you want to do that? And if you do, I have an idea for a system that will mean you don’t have to carry that heavy watering can around the house.”
A neighbor lady is housebound and in need of a great deal of physical help, but she wants to remain in her home for as long as possible. So her children have installed tools and aids throughout the house to help her retain her independence. Her children’s help didn’t come through helicoptering, but by equipping her to do as much as she can on her own.
Frequently, she’ll report something new they discovered that will make her life easier but allow her the freedom she appreciates. An electric jar opener. A cupholder and basket that attach to her walker so she can carry her dinner to the porch on nice evenings. A longer chain for the fan over her kitchen table so she doesn’t have to reach up.
Her children think creatively, protecting and aiding, but helping her most by enabling her to remain as independent as possible.
Love compels us—a good thing. But we still need wisdom to guide us. Our protective instincts can backfire and either scar the very ones we’re trying to protect physically and emotionally or accelerate their decline.
How will we know? How will we ever know we’re getting it right—loving, caring, and shielding without overcontrolling or hurting more than we’re helping?
Those answers may come in part from the professional caregivers or medical staff who advise us about what our parents need most from us. But ultimately, our strongest cues will come—on this subject as with all other decisions in life—from our connection to “the only wise God.”
“Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen,” says 1 Timothy 1:17 (KJV). “To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen”—Jude 1:25 (KJV). “To the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ! Amen!” Romans 16:27 (NIV).
His wisdom is an attribute we can’t live without in our season of second-guessing in caring for aging parents.
Are our decisions about our aging parents the best choices for them and for us? Those who follow tight on Jesus’s heels, who choose to stay tuned to what His Spirit is saying deep within us, find His wisdom rubbing off on us. It’s bound to happen when we follow anyone that closely.
The benefit of the counsel of the only wise God is beyond calculating when what’s at stake is our parents’ health, dignity, and comfort—and our peace of mind.
God of all
Only wise God
I’m feeling my humanness more acutely
As my parents increasingly need me
But I still need them.
You who sees what I can
And what I can’t
Help me listen for Your direction
Your whispered cues
So I don’t misstep
Trying to keep them from falling.