Sometimes love is not enough. But other things can be.

After the last post, one of my online friends had this response.

"I have a story (not my own) that has stuck with me for around 30 years. When I worked in our state's legislature, there were hearings about closing the state hospitals. Most of the patients were residents with handicaps their families just weren't equipped to manage, so some similarities and some differences from your situation. But these two women came to testify. One was the mother of a man who had become a resident. She broke down and couldn't finish her testimony. Her sister was allowed to finish it for her. She related that when the woman finally admitted her son and had a couple of weeks to adjust to that hard decision, a friend said, "How wonderful that they can do the lifting and the cleanup and the daily care, and you can visit and enjoy him!" The mother had quietly replied, 'I only wish they could have taken him while I still loved him.' I know you will not stop loving your father, but you must not ever let things progress to the point where any of you have to cope with that feeling even briefly. You are acting out of a deep and beautiful love. You must protect your family's ability to continue to love dear Akong. When the time comes to move his care to professionals so you all just love him and appreciate him, that is not a failure. It is still love."

This was a powerful testimony of one family's struggle. But it reminded me that people have different reasons for caring for their loved ones, and observers' perceptions of reasons may not always match up. In the months leading up to and since my parents have come to live with us, I've gotten various reactions when I've told them about our new living arrangement. I may have mentioned this before, but one woman went so far as to say, "well it's okay that it's your mom, cause you can be mean to her, right?" After a moment of stunned silence I realized she meant I wouldn't take conflict with my mother personally because after all, she is my mother! Other responses run the theme that I must love my parents so much, and my dad in particular, that I am so (insert virtue of choice here) because how else could I sign up for a future of uncertain length that only promises to get progressively challenging? 

Then I read my friend's response and I realized that many people in fact, do these things out of love. That there are very few limits to love, but unfortunately the mother in this story reached the end of her limits before her son went into nursing care. And my friend is concerned that we may one day reach our limits and Dad will still be here at home, and that would really be a pity. 

I should make it clear right now that I am not any more saintly or self-sacrificing than the next person, and that I don't love my parents any more than my siblings do. Yes, I love my parents, but my reasons for doing what I do have less to do with love and more with GRATITUDE. 

My dad came to the United States in the 60s, to continue grad school. My mom joined him a couple of years after, they married, and one by one, kids were born. My dad finished his degree, and from there went from one professorial job to another. By the time I was in 4th grade we had moved 6 times. The reasons for all these changes are probably complicated and I myself don't know them all, but it boils down to any number of reasons a person like my Dad had trouble sustaining a career in academia. He was an immigrant, and although his English was excellent he was also of a very particular nature, at times dogmatic, and uncompromising, and unaware of the need for "political correctness" for many years. Socially he was very conservative, and even in his native country he would never have been mistaken for one of the "good old boys." In spite of that he managed to carve a living for himself and his family until we moved to Chicago. A large city has a much higher cost of living, and at this time it was necessary for my mom to put my youngest brother in daycare and go to work fulltime. Not having the same academic advantages,  she had to start with an entry level position. Both of my parents toiled as only immigrant parents can toil, but very little of their earnings went into retirement savings. Almost all of it went into supporting their family, and to our education, which included music lessons. When after one year of college I decided to change majors, I was accepted into a more prestigious but also much more expensive university. I did not want to attend this university because of its cost, but my parents insisted because they felt that with a music major I needed all the brand name cachet I could attain. Even though this school gave me an extremely generous financial aid package, the total out of pocket financial cost for both my undergrad and undergrad degree were borne by my parents and what I could earn in the summers and part time during the year. My siblings can attest to the number of times our parents told us, "we are making sacrifices because we want you to have a better future than we did. We don't want you to suffer the same way." 

From late childhood on I've always been acutely aware of the sacrifices that my parents made, and how all of the privilege of my adult life to the present day is built on those sacrifices. As an adolescent I was resentful of those sacrifices because the sense of obligation was so loaded, and more than I wanted to face. As my parents have aged, that resentment has turned to gratitude for all I have received in life, and worry, as I know they were not as well provided for as is strongly recommended these days. 

In the Bible, prophets urge people to be aware of who God is, and how much love God has poured upon them. And to return that love with an expression of gratitude. In the Old Testament, expressions included obedience and material sacrifices and offerings. In the New Testament expressions of gratitude are a giving back of that love to the ones around us. It's a much higher scale example of what has been in my mind since I first became aware of my parents' situation. For years I've been mulling over what I could do to express my gratitude, to "return the favor," because words seemed trite, and actions at the time seemed insufficient. 

But now, my parents are in need. After a lifetime of giving to us, their children, they need to be given to, to be cared for. If I do anything for them, it's not out of the sentiment of love, which I see can have worldly limits, but out of thankfulness and obligation. Not the thankfulness that comes when you get a birthday gift, but thankfulness that comes when you realize you owe your very life to someone. Not the obligation that is written up in a contract, but the kind that includes what you do for family because they are a part of you, they have gone into the making of you and your life.