When a father gives to his son, both laugh;
when a son gives to his father, both cry.
Jesus said those heart-tugging words to people who had missed the connection that when we serve others, it’s as if we’re serving Him. They were—like we often are—diligently engaged in impressive projects of study and speaking, talking about God’s Word, memorizing what God said, and giving generously.
But Jesus stopped their rehearsal of all they’d done for Him when He said this in Matthew 25:42–45 (CEB):
“I was hungry and you didn’t give me food to eat. I was thirsty and you didn’t give me anything to drink. I was a stranger and you didn’t welcome me. I was naked and you didn’t give me clothes to wear. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.
Then they will reply, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and didn’t do anything to help you?”
Then he will answer, “I assure you that when you haven’t done it for one of the least of these, you haven’t done it for me.”
I’m one of the people He was talking about two thousand years ago. I’m one who finds it much easier to let someone else do the hospital visitation, visit the nursing home, or stop by at the assisted-living facility to spend time with an aging friend or relative. And my excuses have included “I don’t know what to say”; “I don’t want to interrupt the patient’s sleep”; “I’m not comfortable.”
Those excuses fall away one by one in light of Christ’s viewpoint. Comfortable has nothing to do with it. I’m to wait on God if I don’t know what to say. Just sit there quietly. But show up.
It can be an especially difficult task when visiting the people most precious to us—our aging parents. We hate admitting it, but awkward or painful moments sometimes take center stage.
Their pain disturbs us. Their physical infirmities crush us. When they lose their ability to communicate freely, the effort exhausts us. Their illness-driven anger or hostility bruises us.
And that’s the problem. Us.
We approach visiting our parents with a completely natural focus on how it affects our personal barometric pressure. What does the visit do to us?
With our mouths, we say, “Anything for you, Jesus.” But when He asks, “Will you visit Me in the nursing home?” we retreat into, “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand the question.”
You may be one who finds it pure joy to visit with the elderly and infirm. You may be one who has never resisted Christ’s call or your parents’ need. God bless you. Sincerely. You’re to be commended for your gifts and how you use them, for your selflessness and your servant heart.
But others of us may need to remember that shoving the barriers of difficulty or uneasiness out of the way will allow us to respond to the need as Jesus would. This is not only an act of God-given courage; it ministers directly to Jesus as well. What a privilege to serve our parents and the King in one move!
On the practical side, experts on aging advise that where once conversation alone could carry the day during a family gathering, that may no longer be the case, as our parents age.
They suggest engaging both the mind and the spirit as the body declines, through shared crossword puzzles, Scrabble, riddles, trivia, brainteasers, Bible stories, and the like, when appropriate. Try crafting projects. Create memory albums together. Listen to your parents’ favorite music. Read to your parent. Invite grandchildren to read to their grandparent.
When memory loss and mental acuity grow too weak for some of those activities, bringing coffee-table-style library books of garden scenes, landscapes, artwork, or fabric arts can help make the visit meaningful.
We falsely assume that visiting our parents should feel natural. We’re family. We’ve known each other all our lives. We’ve built a unique history together.
But we haven’t known our parents like this—with this cocktail of physical ailments and aging issues. And we bring to the visit a retooled, revised package of concerns and responsibilities. It’s new, unfamiliar territory. And it may require a level of creativity unnecessary in past stages of shared life.
Janet used to feel the tension rising as the minutes ticked by while she visited her father. Her visceral reaction happened even when she focused on staying calm, both when he still lived in his home and after he was transferred to a facility where he could get the specific medical attention he needed.
“I felt as if lapses in our conversation were my fault and that if I loved my father as I should, being with him wouldn’t cause stress. Which caused me more stress.”
She stumbled onto a partial solution accidentally, when she found Scotty, one of her dad’s coworkers from his railroading days, in the chair she usually occupied. Janet pulled another chair to the table where Scotty and her father were sitting and staring at a checkerboard, mid-game. The three-way conversation added a layer of ease Janet hadn’t known when she visited solo.
“Are one of you going to make a move?” she asked the men.
“Well,” Scotty said, “I’m already married, and he’s your father, so I guess your answer is no, young lady.”
Janet’s father smiled for the first time in a long time. At a snail’s pace, he slid a black checker one space forward, then turned and winked at his daughter.
“The moment of near normalcy did so much for my soul,” Janet said. “And I could tell it blessed Dad too. He seemed to enjoy listening to Scotty and me talk about our children, what was happening ‘out there’ in the world. It was as if he felt relieved to have the burden of carrying half the conversation lifted from his shoulders, since stringing words together in a way that made sense taxed him so heavily.”
From that day on, Janet often took one of their mutual friends, a grandchild, or a neighbor with her when she visited. “It made a difference for both of us. I started looking forward to seeing him again. I couldn’t be more grateful that Scotty showed up that day and taught me what was missing.”
When she talks about the experience with other children of aging parents, she often adds, “As hard as it can be to sit in a room with a stark reminder of what aging has done to your parents, you’ll never regret whatever effort it took for you to be there. Listening to my father’s friends interact with him taught me things about him I didn’t know.
“He was a good, good father. But hearing about the men he’d influenced when I thought he was spending his workdays punching a time clock and repairing railway tracks changed my perspective about my father. About the person my father was. What I discovered about him when he was beyond telling me made those visits more significant than I could have imagined.”
What are you learning about your aging parents that will become a treasured memory?
I live in a room that isn’t my own.
I eat at a table that’s foreign to me.
I room with a person I’m not sure I like.
They bring me black coffee; I’d rather have tea.
All that once was familiar is gone.
My earthly treasures, all stored or sold.
My family lives such busy lives,
While I’m supposed to be content to be old.
My days are the same, a hapless routine.
I’d choose to leave, but I have no say.
No control over where I go, what I do.
But you visited me and made my day!
You couldn’t stay long, and I understood.
It didn’t matter so much how long you could stay.
But you took the time, you went out of your way,
You visited me and made my day.
(Taken from a Heartbeat of the Home radio broadcast.)