Caring for the Widows
One thing that has always struck me about the Old Testament (one among about 50 million other remarkable things) is the Lord's oft repeated call to care for the disadvantaged, typically expressed as "the widows" and the "fatherless" (e.g., Dt.14:29; c.f., Ps. 68:5). This is culturally remarkable in that the laws of other ANE cultures largely disregarded anybody save the wealthy. The same string runs through the New Testament (e.g., Jas. 2:27).
The notion of caring for widows hit home with me this Sunday when I went to pay a visit to my grandmother (a.k.a., NaNa). NaNa is 94 years old now, her mind is well afflicted now with age related dementia, and she needs full-time care to make it through her day to day. My wife and I paid her a visit yesterday, which is always very hard.
For sure, it's difficult to see the grandmother whom I love in such a different state. She's so quiet, and the conversations are naught but a few exchanges of simple thoughts. From time to time she'll wreck me by holding my face (in the way only an Italian grandmother can) and tell me that I'm a good boy. Since we can't talk much, the visit is mostly me and my wife sitting by her, holding her hand, and just letting time pass by. The way she holds my hand leads me to believe that this is all the visit she needs or wants.
Thinking of my grandmother always brings verses like James 2:27 into my head, and I question my obediance thereto. Is my grandmother being cared for? How do you know for sure, when the person in question cannot express their own needs? Is she suffering? Is she in pain? I don't suppose I'll ever know. And how do I care for her? I can pray and I can visit, but thus ends the list, so far as I know.
I think with it all comes a double dose of helplessness: On the one hand, I see and experience a woman who is three times my age yet helpless as an infant. On the other, I experience my own helplessness to do anything about it; my own inability to do anything but sit next to her holding her hand and looking out the window, or watching the second hand on the clock.
The notion of caring for widows hit home with me this Sunday when I went to pay a visit to my grandmother (a.k.a., NaNa). NaNa is 94 years old now, her mind is well afflicted now with age related dementia, and she needs full-time care to make it through her day to day. My wife and I paid her a visit yesterday, which is always very hard.
For sure, it's difficult to see the grandmother whom I love in such a different state. She's so quiet, and the conversations are naught but a few exchanges of simple thoughts. From time to time she'll wreck me by holding my face (in the way only an Italian grandmother can) and tell me that I'm a good boy. Since we can't talk much, the visit is mostly me and my wife sitting by her, holding her hand, and just letting time pass by. The way she holds my hand leads me to believe that this is all the visit she needs or wants.
Thinking of my grandmother always brings verses like James 2:27 into my head, and I question my obediance thereto. Is my grandmother being cared for? How do you know for sure, when the person in question cannot express their own needs? Is she suffering? Is she in pain? I don't suppose I'll ever know. And how do I care for her? I can pray and I can visit, but thus ends the list, so far as I know.
I think with it all comes a double dose of helplessness: On the one hand, I see and experience a woman who is three times my age yet helpless as an infant. On the other, I experience my own helplessness to do anything about it; my own inability to do anything but sit next to her holding her hand and looking out the window, or watching the second hand on the clock.
posted by bmarchio at 7:46 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home