Today, my husband and I took his mother grocery shopping. She is well into her silver years, and does not move as quickly as one would hope. Every decision is deeply contemplated and often forgotten later, every movement is deliberate and cautious, and random items that catch her eye will be the subject of a thorough examination and discussion. She becomes easily confused and exhausted, both mentally and physically. Time and deadlines are simply gentle suggestions, shackles for other people who have full-time jobs and chores and hungry pets. She does try to move as quickly as she can, but debilitating pain and arthritis add layers of complexity… still, she tries to make do, and in good spirits (most days).
I find myself getting frustrated, exasperated, and weary when she joins us on outings and lingers far too long, and I’m deeply ashamed of this. The small, still voice inside me, the Light, is telling me to have patience and empathy, but still I falter. When she insists that her cell phone is “broken” because she didn’t hear it ring (and we discover that it was set to silent mode, once again) or she can’t get to her text messages (because she forgot which icon to touch), there is an urge to toss it in the dumpster and resort to messenger pigeons for communication. This is not my first experience with people of a certain age, and it certainly won’t be my last. So… why do I still feel so crabby?
As we assisted my mother-in-law in finding everything on her shopping list, it occurred to me that, for all the impatience and exasperation I was feeling, it must be even more painful for her. She once was able-bodied, mentally agile, and always on the go. She was a vital member of many circles, helping others that suffered from so many ailments and so much despondence. Now, she is hunched over in an electric shopping cart, unable to reach for the top shelf in the cereal aisle, and struggling to remember the name of the cereal she needs. I try to see this moment of her life through her eyes, and it deeply humbles me. If I’m lucky, I’ll be her age someday, and there will be some other person gritting their teeth and grumbling about my sluggishness and foggy brain. But for now, I have to remind myself that pure, heartfelt compassion builds a stronger bridge than passive annoyance and tacit servitude. For a person who is brave enough to ask for help, a genuinely kind response means so much.
Have you considered the moments when a little compassion could help you build a beautiful connection with someone who needs you?
