Of Careers, Calling and Parental Pride

Earlier this year, I blogged about having pride in our kids - pride that comes naturally for parents. 

I remember my dad being proud of his daughters, making it known that he could farm with his two daughters just as well as any man with sons (maybe his biases skewed his perception just a bit...). We have a number of friends whose kids have worked in the family business, which must be a good feeling - sharing knowledge, goals, looking at ways to move the company into the next phase or change, building together. We are naturally pleased when our kids follow in our footsteps, choosing to emulate us in their job or profession.
 
Growing up, I knew a large family whose kids all became either pastors, doctors, nurses or professors, most of them taking on a missionary stint in Africa or other developing country. To the last one, they were kind and compassionate, displaying none of the arrogance we often associate with highly successful people. I wondered what conversations around their supper table must have been like.  While we were talking about the best way to avoid scours (diarrhea) in newborn calves, they were likely discussing the latest medical breakthrough and the impact it would have on those who might benefit - or perhaps debating a difficult theological problem.  As years passed, my respect for this family only grew - parallel to their accomplishments which truly benefited people in countless ways. It's enough to make most of us just a bit envious.

What constitutes success? Is it our education?  Our accomplishments?  Our status?  Our wealth? Our health? Our fame?

Throughout history, people who lived what we call a 'full' life - who made a difference somewhere, were people who listened to their heart. They leaned in to their potential. (What is our potential, if not who we were created to be?) Instead of emulating someone else, they discovered who they really were, and developed that person. They responded to their own specific calling. Isn't that a worthy task for each of us? To find and follow the passion and gifts that lie inside of us?

I recall walking through the Alexander Graham Bell Museum in Baddeck, Nova Scotia some years ago. Meandering through the displays, reading about this extraordinary man completely mesmerized me. This was a man whose greatest passion lay in compassion for people and discovering new ways of communicating, especially related to the hearing impaired. He was too busy working out his new ideas to worry about the financial rewards of his labor. He handed his telephone company, Ma Bell, over to his wife, which made her a very wealthy woman. He didn't work for fame; he cared deeply about people and used his inquisitive and creative mind to follow his heart. You can almost imagine the neighbors shaking their heads and saying things like, "Why isn't that man out making a decent living? Imagine just staying in that workshop every day! What will all his experimentation get him?" Still he forged ahead. His calling was greater than his desire for approval.

None of our kids have followed in our footsteps in terms of education or career. None of our kids has remained in the family business. None of our kids has status or wealth. None of our kids have achieved fame. What they have done is followed their hearts, and let God guide them to their best life...in an ongoing journey.  Each is being true to his/her own calling (each very different from their siblings) - and yet each one exerts positive influence in the lives of others; of that I have no doubt.  I know this, in part, because they influence me.

I don't expect, or even desire that our kids be like us. My hope and joy comes in seeing them find and follow their specific passion, working to develop their talents and gifts, even when it's hard and demands sacrifice. That they do so with integrity - continuing always to follow God's best for them - not for someone else. Envying someone else's place in life is a sure path to failure and defeat.

Accepting who we are, discovering our potential and then striving to be our best is one of the key ingredients to wholeness. When our children (and grandchildren) learn through success and through failure - in the confidence they are unique individuals who have a unique place in this world, I'm in their corner.  My heart is instilled with respect and yes, even pride.

A New Life

The conflict I wrote about in my previous blog has been resolved.
My mom passed away on November 1st.

As I indicated in my previous post, I had struggled - not insignificantly - with end of life decisions.  I was glad for the one-mindedness that my sister and I felt, and the validation by her physician.

Mom struggled against her oxygen mask and her IV in her final days.  Because of her memory loss, she didn't remember - more than a few seconds - when we told her the oxygen was to make her better. Mom was usually a pretty upbeat person, but it was clear that she felt almost claustrophobic. She wanted freedom.  A few times, she mumbled to me, "I can't anymore."
She hated having the mask on, and even the nasal tube when her meals came.  At one point, she just kept trying to pull it off and was becoming very agitated.  I found it painful to watch her discomfort and angst. I said, to her (in Dutch), "That rotten thing, hey?"
"Ya!" she exclaimed. 
I took it off and asked, "Is that better?"

For the first time, she actually laughed, and said, "Ya!" with a big, beaming smile.
As she continued to deteriorate, we consulted with the physician about the reality of her condition.  It was clear that if she was to get better, it would be a long road of fighting with oxygen and IV.

Then, overnight, she became unresponsive. My sister and I went in to speak with her doctor.  We asked him whether the most compassionate thing would be to remove all the tubes, allowing her to die in comfort and with dignity.  He concurred with our thoughts.
We asked how long she might last.  He said it would be anywhere from 2 hours to a few days.
As it turned out, she went within the hour.

My mom was a woman of faith. Her hope and salvation was in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We cannot be devastated when we know the joy she now experiences. She has entered a new life where time is no more.  Her joy will never end.

I was blessed to be with her when she drew her last breath here on earth.  It's hard to express the deep mystery that envelopes the moment of death. I believe her movement into her eternal home was a gentle, good journey.  I feel privileged to have witnessed it.

End-of-life Care

The strides made in medical care over my lifetime are incredible.  We have been able to prolong life through ever evolving drug discoveries and medical technology.  Still, at some point, death takes us all.  So for children of aging parents, the question is, how much technology and medical care should be used in the name of prolonging life in someone well advanced in years - someone unable to make those decisions for themselves?  What comfort level should we aiming for?  Are we OK with our loved one struggling in anxiety and anger with the paraphernalia used to pump in life-giving substances and extract waste? 

What does it mean to allow a loved one to die with dignity?  Does the level of alertness give us the clues to follow?  Do we only make the hard decisions if someone is comatose? 

I have been spending the past few days at my mother's hospital bedside as she continually fights with her oxygen mask.  She has been incoherent and for the most part, unresponsive - we can't understand her - although she opens her eyes and nods to my questions. She has dementia, and her ability to speak has become much less recently.  Though she understands some things, she quickly forgets I've told her that she needs the oxygen to get better.

This morning, she's more alert.  Which makes her even more anxious about the oxygen mask, and now the intravenous as well.

Last night I spoke to a friend who has been visiting my mom for years...they had a close connection years ago, and she and her husband have been ever faithful to care for and about Mom.  We talked about Mom's constant irritability with the oxygen mask.  She said, "You know, your mom has the right to refuse the oxygen.  She has a right to be comfortable."  She said this with much love, as she referred to a visit they made with Mom at the nursing home, just before she entered hospital.  She spoke about the peaceful look on Mom's face as they visited, even though she was unable to speak.

Her words give me cause for thought.  How much do we fight with her to prolong her time in this, her 10th decade?  Will removing the oxygen and IV give her a certain peace, or will she struggle then, even more, against breath and dehydration?

Her increased alertness also makes for her desire to get up on her own, and want to 'go home' - back to the nursing home.  It's difficult to see your loved one tied down in a chair or bed - what's to be done?  What is the quality of life for someone requiring sedation to keep their anxiety level down? 

Is the struggle I feel more about appeasing my discomfort or hers?

My mother has always been a woman of faith - we are assured that when she takes leave of this life, she will be completely healed and living fully and joyfully in the next.  This is no justification for any decisions that we make, but certainly colors how we look at life and death.

We will see how today goes and speak with the physician tomorrow.  In the meantime, the dichotomy in my mind continues to churn, for there are no easy answers.

Faith and Fear - a daughter's view

I am reading Mary Gordon's Circling My Mother, a memoir set within a historical time frame that closely intersects the time period of my mother's life and mine.  Reading this book gives rise to the question of who my mother was and is.  Like her mother, mine, too, is afflicted with dementia.

As I read Gordon's probing evaluation of her relationship with her mother, it strikes me that much of my mother's actions may have been attributed to fear.  This has never really occurred to me before.  Perhaps I was always either too close to an emotionally charged situation or sadly, never had the inclination to discover what was behind her responses to certain situations.

She was afraid of horses, narrow mountain roads and my father's impatience with farm animals.  She was afraid that bears would come get her when she and my dad went camping. She overcame her fear of driving by getting her drivers' license when she was well into her 30's.  When we moved a province away, she was always afraid this was the last time she'd see us.  During my growing up years, her greatest fear expressed itself in frequent lectures (with much sighing and rolling of the eyes on my part) about 'what boys want' and how unbearable it would be for her if one of her girls came home pregnant.  She was determined that our family's reputation would always be untainted by that situation.

At the same time, she spoke of God's faithfulness, assuring us that he would always be with us - which was comforting - and that he always sees us (which was not always comforting).  From my perspective, her greatest fear also translated into lack of trust in my integrity.  At the time, it almost made me want to realize her greatest fear, to spite her.  But the faith she nurtured within me also prevented me from following through.  (I often wondered if she would have found it in her heart to be supportive in such a situation.)

This great fear of hers resulted in arguments about the length of my skirts, where I went and with whom (and when), and curfews.  Today, I can see the wisdom of some of these restrictions.  I was basically naive, and still tend to be blinded to the darker side of people.

Others would never have known she was fearful, since she was always full of jokes and trickery, and had a great sense of humor.  She was hospitable and extroverted.  School friends and neighborhood kids were welcome at our house. Another person at the table was never a problem.  Later, she always played games with her grand kids, as she had done with us and our friends - she loved cards - especially crib.

It sometimes saddens me that my mother and I did not have the close mother/daughter relationship that would have allowed us to discuss any subject - openly and without judgement or defensiveness.

Like Gordon's mother, mine is more of the child now; she doesn't remember my name (although she recognizes me as someone dear to her), and she's unable to hold a conversation.  She doesn't always remember what to do with a fork or spoon, and doesn't remember family names or relationships.  On good days though, her sense of humor is still evident by the glint in her eyes as she does a 'happy dance' behind her walker.

I have long ago given over the tension that once existed between us and trust that a solid faith still resides deep with her - a faith that will not fail her in her last days.

 

Fitting Pride

 Pride - while not so much in our society at large - at least within the Christian community, is a word that holds negative connotations.  Christians believe that pride leads to all kinds of sin...envy, deception, greed, hatred, ... the list goes on.  If you want to read more, just check out the book of Proverbs on this subject.

 

But today I admit to being proud - and I believe my pride is both acceptable and fitting. It's a pride not unlike my pride of being Canadian.

Our oldest son, Jeff, returned this week from the Selkirk Mountain Range and a grueling 10-day full Ski Guide exam that will result in his accreditation with ACMG (Association of Canadian Mountain Guides).  He called just before the exam started to say that examiners were looking for white-out conditions to test applicants' skills.

Post-grad from a three-year Outdoor Program at Northwest Baptist College found Jeff living in his car and subsisting on Kraft Dinner as he was trying to find his way into the Whistler area as a guide.  Now an 'old timer' in the area, he has since worked with various guiding companies, and done free-lance work.  A few years ago, he successfully gained accreditation as Assistant Ski Guide with ACMG, and has gained valuable experience guiding heli-skiing.  Jeff has logged days and weeks of skiing and traversing experience in varying terrain to get to the point of being eligible for this exam.

I wondered if I should wait to post this until after he gets his results, but there's really no reason. As his mother and biggest fan, (OK, maybe his wife, Nina rivals me in this category)  I fully expect him to enter into this world-class accreditation with flying colors.  Were he required to re-do the exam, I'd be just as proud of him for his passion and standard of excellence in his field.  He will continue to work towards a full ACMG designation, which besides Ski Guide, includes Rock Guide and Alpine Guide categories. 

What got me onto this subject of pride was surfing through our oldest daughter's blog.  Kelly blogs regularly about the ordinary and not-so-ordinary moments that constitute family life.  When I read her stories and insights, I am constantly amazed at her parenting skills, how she demonstrates her love for her husband and kids in practical and sacrificial ways, and how she cares about those within her sphere of influence.  Her parenting style is loving and consistent, and it includes good humor and empathetic understanding.  As a matter of principle, she looks for the good in others, and looks to their best interests. She has true friendships because she is a good friend.  She's resourceful.  She's a volunteer, has her own photography business, blue melon photography, runs a guest house, Adagio Guest House, teaches piano, and continues to learn new things.  She and her husband are hospitable people.  Like the rest of us, Kelly is not perfect, but she is diligent and intentional about being a Godly woman. This makes me a very proud mom.

Our youngest daughter, Tara, has recently successfully completed her final exams at West Coast School of Massage Therapy.  For the past 2 1/2 years she's had her nose to the grindstone studying, while giving up the simple pleasures of leisure time and social interaction in order to meet her goals.  What she didn't give up, thankfully, was building a relationship with Dave, the man whom she will marry in just 8 weeks.  Although academic success has always required hard work from Tara, this time she outdid herself.  She measured the cost, made sacrifices, gritted her teeth and not only got through it, but did so with excellent results.

Tara's social and compassionate nature is well-suited to her chosen career.  She's told me over and over again about the satisfaction she feels from being able to assess and treat people with health issues.  Having been treated by several RMTs including Tara, I believe that Tara demonstrates a natural gift for this work, and that she will do well, quickly building a repeat clientele.  The emotion I felt when she stepped forward for her diploma formed a lump in my throat and gratitude in my heart.

I am so pleased to observe my grown children excel in characteristics that have never particularly been my strong suit.  I'm not nearly as focused as Jeff, as loving and consistent as Kelly or as determined as Tara.  Of course, there is my husband Don, from whom they may have inherited and learned some (if not all) of these traits.

In essence though, these accomplishments are because of God's grace - how he's made each of our children, how he's shaped them, and his care over them from the day of their birth.  These accomplishments are also about the gifts he's placed within them, and their desire to go with who they are. (More about this later).  This gives us immense reason to celebrate and be thankful!

Hmmm - I wonder if God ever feels pride in us, his children.  But again, another topic for another day.