My Thorn In The Flesh

In 2018, I wrote on subjects related to my Dad's journey through dementia, and eventual deliverance from it. I reached the end of that privilege and put down my pen, or my computer, in this case. I left the blog online for people to search and find consolation in their days of need and grief; the persistent ongoing readership tells me that some people find the content useful, and I am grateful that these words matter to others in caregivers' crisis. I also sensed that on some future day another idea would come to mind that would be a good topic to address and attach to the articles saved here. Well, I was right, and it's time to write again.

I now realize that my 4 years with Dad will be my thorn in the flesh for the rest of my life in this world. Let me explain. From Scripture, Paul wrote about his thorn (II Cor 12), demonically-motivated false teachers had infiltrated the church, gained favor, and were relentlessly attacking him. He understood that God was in ultimate control of his circumstances, and that in spite of the motives of his adversaries, God intended good to come from it, to keep Paul humbled and dependent on the Lord.

I feel the same about my years with Dad. People have often complimented me for the decision I made to pause life, and move in with Dad to become his primary caregiver. Sometimes those expressions of admiration come with confessions of regret about choices they made regarding the care of their loved ones. Guilt is a relentless enemy; it is no "respecter of persons". I have trouble communicating this truth to others, but guilt does not care about the choices we make, nor our intentions, motives, mistakes, our best moments, or our worst moments. Guilt will ruthlessly exploit anything and everything; whether you made the best choices available to you, or whether you settled for something you now regard as less than your best. You regret it; you wish you could go back; you would give anything for a do-over.

I made the best choices available to me, at my level of spiritual maturity and walk with the Lord, but do you think guilt cares about any of that? No, it does not. Guilt humbles me from time to time to re-live certain moments, to wish I had made different choices, or handled some events with more patience, respect, and love for my Dad. So what guilt intends for my ruin, God intends for good. To humble me, to keep me there, to remind me that I have not arrived yet, and to avoid the potential puffery from those who admire, perhaps overly, the "sacrifices" I made for Dad. Be clear about this: by God's grace, I'm not broken because of this, nor am I paralyzed or controlled by it, but it will be the thorn in my flesh for the rest of my life. So like Paul, "lest I be exalted from the abundance of the revelations," or in my case, the praise of "doing right and good," I thank the Lord that He cares to keep my eyes fixed on Him and my heart trusting in Him.

Knowing that we cannot undo the past, we can certainly learn from it, absolutely repent of it, make restitution when possible, but be clear about this: guilt doesn't care about your choices; it will force you to re-litigate all of them in your mind. So we must look to the Lord, listen to Him, keep following Him when it hurts and doesn't make sense, accept the hurt or the thorn as a gift from God, and thank Him for the lessons He still lovingly teaches us.

7/21/2020