I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy...

 I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy...

If you grew up in church or spent your summers at Vacation Bible School, you might

already be humming the title of this article. (If not, you can hear it here.) 

There’s something heartwarming about watching children sing that song with all their

might — voices high, arms waving, faces glowing. Their innocence allows them to find

pure joy in the simplest things: a bug that tickles their hand, a firefly flickering in a jar,

the first lick of an ice cream cone, or spotting Santa at a Christmas parade.

But somewhere along the way, that easy, unfiltered joy becomes harder to access.

Why Does Joy Fade with Age?

As adults, the little things that once delighted us can lose their sparkle. Bugs become

pests. Ice cream triggers lactose intolerance. And Santa? Well, let’s just say he can

bring more emotional complexity than cheer these days.

We may still experience happiness, but it often feels fleeting — momentary blips rather

than a steady undercurrent. Illness, exhaustion, trauma, and responsibility all build walls

around the part of us that once sang “joy down in my heart” without hesitation.

So, how do some people manage to radiate joy, even in difficult circumstances, while

others fall into despair?

A Lesson in Joy from a Home Health Patient

I once had a home health client who taught me more about joy than any book or sermon

ever could. She was in the early stages of dementia, and her husband was walking that

difficult journey alongside her. Married nearly 50 years, they moved through each day

as a team — with tenderness, humor, and deep respect for one another.

Their home was filled with love. Their children were supportive, their interactions sweet

and steady. And this patient? She glowed. Not in a metaphorical way — she truly

radiated joy. Every time I visited, I left feeling lighter.

Yes, I was there to assess her cognitive function and review medications. But what I

gained in return was something deeper: a glimpse into the powerful role of gratitude.

The Secret to Lasting Joy: Gratitude and Contentment

Her joy wasn’t performative. It wasn’t about pretending everything was okay. It was

rooted in something much stronger — thankfulness.

They didn’t just say “thank you” at the end of each visit (though they always did). Their

gratitude was expressed in smiles, in small touches, in the way her husband would lean

in to remind her how much he loved being her partner.

Watching them, I realized something vital: joy grows in the soil of gratitude. And

gratitude is a choice — not always an easy one, but a powerful one.

Why This Matters in Case Management

As case managers, we often see patients when their lives feel most fragile — during

illness, recovery, uncertainty, or loss. And while we can’t remove their burdens, we can

help them carry them.

Depression, especially in patients with chronic illness, is a well-documented barrier to

healing. Bautovich et al. (2014) conducted a meta-analysis on chronic kidney disease

(CKD) and depression, finding a strong correlation between depressive symptoms and

poor treatment outcomes, including lower compliance and reduced quality of life.

Patients in despair are less likely to follow care plans. They become inwardly focused,

hopeless, disconnected from the very things that could support their recovery —

including joy.

Helping Patients Reignite Joy

So how do we help patients rediscover joy?

We can start with their story.

• Look at the photos in their home.

• Ask about the people they love.

• Watch their interactions with visitors.

• Notice what makes them smile, even briefly.

Help them name what they’re thankful for — even if it’s just a warm blanket or a call

from a grandchild. For some, faith is their anchor. For others, it’s music, nature, or

cherished memories.

You can support this process by integrating tools like:

• Mindfulness or guided imagery to quiet anxiety and center their thoughts.

• Narrative therapy to explore and reframe their life story.

• Spiritual practices for those who find strength in their faith tradition.

When we give patients permission and space to seek joy again — even in small doses

— we open a door to healing that medical treatment alone cannot provide.

Final Thoughts: Where Does Joy Live?

The kids’ song says it’s “down in my heart.” And maybe, just maybe, that’s true. But joy

doesn’t just appear. It’s nurtured through perspective, connection, and an intentional

choice to focus on the good — even when life is hard.

Whether you're a case manager, caregiver, or just someone trying to make sense of

life’s ups and downs, remember: Gratitude is a practice, and joy is its fruit.

You may not feel it every day. But if you keep watering the soil, it will grow again.

Works Cited

Bautovich, A., Katz, I., Smith, M., Loo, C. K., & Harvey, S. B. (2014).

Depression and chronic kidney disease: A review for clinicians.

Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry. https://doi.org/

10.1177/0004867414528589

Wikipedia Contributors. (2022, June 14). I’ve Got the Joy Joy Joy Joy.

Wikipedia; Wikimedia Foundation. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/

I%27ve_Got_the_Joy_Joy_Joy_Joy

Take a deeper dive: Brene Brown on joy and gratitude

https://YouTube.com/watch?v=2IjSHUc7TXM

Kindness and Power - When Kindness Doesn't Work

"Be kind to one another."

Right? I love Ellen Degeneres, she has a heart of gold it seems. This saying is her signature closing to each episode of her talk show. And I agree with her - being kind to others makes the world a better place, and is a perfect way to share the love God gave us with others. But what do you do when your kind acts are met with disdain, or worse - rejection? How do you continue to be kind?

Caregivers give. It's in the name. We like to take care of people. We enjoy being kind and helpful. We thrive on it. As a nurse, I always found that kindness could break down walls. Underneath the walls that people put up were usually feelings of fear, loss of control, or shame. By offering kindness, I could also offer them peace (your needs will be met), worthiness (you are worthy of care), recognition (I see you and what you need), and humility on my part. This was true not only with patients, but also co-workers, doctors and managers.

Growing up, kindness was never guaranteed at my house. My mother and I have not been friends since I developed a sense of self at 13 years old. I didn't understand then about narcissism, or how it could damage a relationship and psyche. I did realize as a teenager that I did not feel heard, loved, or respected for who I was. I had all those feelings that my patients had: fear, loss of control, and shame. Acts of kindness on my mother's part were often veiled attempts to control something, or an acknowledgement of compliance. They were given freely to people she valued - friends, coworkers, people who acknowledged her as successful or special - until behind their back, she complained about them for some reason. I knew this wasn't right, but I was at a loss to figure out why.

What my mother considered to be kindness and care for her child, felt more like control and disrespect to me. And so we entered into a relationship that was no longer centered on common goals, shared experiences, or love. Instead it was about power, and kindness fell away in the rubble. In its place was animosity, resentment, and disdain. I tried to put a hedge around my heart to protect me from the words that cut so deep, exuding disappointment while verbalizing gratitude. Who knew a "thank you" in the wrong tone could send you reeling?! I learned to do what she asked in order to avoid major battles, while hiding my true self. At the same time, I found blessed acts of kindness at my friends' homes, which served as a model for my own parenting practices. Words of affirmation from other people, and affection, led me farther away from "home" both physically and emotionally, so I could find safer places with kindness, peace, and love. Not all of those choices were good ones, but God seems to protect fools.

I have come to believe that offering genuine acts of kindness is actually powerful, but has powerlessness and vulnerability at its core. It requires relinquishing control: I am giving up doing something for me so I can do something for you. Or, I am asking for something, knowing my request may not be met, hoping and trusting that you will help me out of kindness. That is a place of vulnerability. By accepting a random act of kindness, you are relinquishing control of the situation. If my granddaughter offers me a dandelion, I take it, every time, even though I'm allergic, because she's offering it to me from a place of kindness and vulnerability. Same goes for the yucky McDonald's food my grandson shares. If you reject the gift, the gift-giver feels rejected. And it's actually a power play so you can maintain control of what you have (or do not have.) I'm learning this myself, because this caregiving thing is a pretty powerful mirror sometimes.

An example: My mother has never been good about asking for help. If she needs a glass of water, she says, "Do you want to get me some water?" I didn't realize until recently how odd this was. My instinct is to stop what I'm doing and get if for her, and say, "Sure." Aannndd then feel resentful. But recently, I've come to see that this is really a "question" with an underlying power grab. She isn't asking for water, she's telling me what I want to do. (Not "I'd like some water," but "You want to get me water.") That's why I feel resentful - I'm being used. When she says, "Do you want to [do this for me]", I've started saying, "No, I don't really want to do that right now. But I will if you need me to." This infuriates her! Of course I'll get her the water, or whatever, and I'm happy to do it. But that's not the point. David and I are trying to get her to re-word her requests into actual questions, ending in "please." By doing this I've encouraged her to consider how she asked for something she needed, and to accept an act of kindness as an actual act of caring, versus a demand veiled in a request for kindness. (In another blog I'll address her inability to ask for help, because that's another whole big issue for narcissists.) She showed her vulnerability by asking for something she cannot get for herself, and allowed her caregiver to feel powerful by offering an act of kindness in fulfilling her request. BOOM!! Everyone wins!

Think about the last time you did something kind for someone that was well received. What was in your heart? Are you smiling? Did you feel stronger, happier, and stand a little taller? That's the power of love and kindness. Professor David W Orr says,

“The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these qualities have little to do with success as we have defined it.”

As a nurse, assistant, and mom, I was told that I was pretty good at being kind, and that was something I was always proud of. I definitely felt more joy and power over my life when I was kind more often. And I strive to be that way with my mom. I just wish she would understand how much I like being kind to her, and receive my acts of kindness with true appreciation. If she did, I might not find myself struggling to be kind with her. Do you struggle with being kind? Do you recall a time you made a difference for someone just by being kind? Let's chat about it and encourage each other!

Tear Down the Wall - Losing My Boundaries

If you've read a little of my blog so far, you know a few things about me. But just in case, here's the quick, down, and dirty recap:

• I grew up Catholic in a home with 2 parents who had narcissistic tendencies (though not diagnosed or at a Narcissistic Personality Disorder level).
• I struggled with my relationship with my mother from the time I was 13 due to her inability to control my life when I wasn't meeting her expectations.
• My brother and I have spent years counseling and putting up boundaries to protect us from her hurtful words and deeds.
• My boundaries are down as my mom's full-time caregiver. And so are the ones I put in place to protect my children and husband.
• My parents were really into spanking, past the point of being effective (if it ever was.) But other than that, we were never abused physically. 
• Unlike my family, my husband and I are open, honest, and affectionate with our children. Not perfect, but not blind to who we (and they) are.

Growing up Catholic, with a mother who was very devout and a father who was a detached Lutheran, in a small industrial western Pennsylvania town, I had a few guaranteed experiences. We went to church a lot. I went to Catholic school. My dad worked for a well-known company that paid a good wage, benefits, and even a country club/pool membership. We had a house, 2 kids, a car, and a dog. We were never hungry or without shelter or without basic needs. I got to go sled riding beside my house and played in the field, and "crick" across the street. We participated in dance lessons, music lessons, and swim team. We went to concerts, movies, and festivals at local churches where the food was - well, homemade ethnic food is truly the best! But so much of our life was a lie. I did not understand that until I was a teenager and had the ability to see the way other people lived. From that point on, I knew - and told myself - that I would remember what it felt like to be my mother's daughter, and I would NOT inflict that pain on my own children. What I really wanted most, but didn't have, was love.

You're going to laugh at this, but I give much of the credit for my self-awareness to Pink Floyd. You know, the British rock group. Their rock opera The Wall was my go-to psych therapy during my teenage years. I must have listened to those albums (2 vinyl that had to be turned over and switched) 100 times. Follow the link if you aren't familiar with this masterpiece, and you want to get details. After, oh, the 10th time, somehow, the analogy of the over-protective and controlling mother hit me. My mom was building walls around me. And when I realized it, all I wanted to do was tear them down. She thought she was doing the right things - strict Catholic schools, choosing my friends, no sleepovers, choosing all my extra-curricular activities, etc. - but what she was really doing was controlling me. I was screaming, "We don't need no education!!!" At least the Catholic kind. I understood the themes of the songs - RUN, comfortably numb (I tried different ways to make that happen, but alcohol was the winner), tear down the wall, the horror of war (the Vietnam War had just ended, but the nightly news seared the images into my brain), an unavailable father, and the feeling of being disconnected from your life.

When I was 13, our picturesque little town suffered a devastating flood. The third in 90 years. It wiped out the downtown, again, and permanently scarred the residents and the mills that surrounded the town and provided its financial stability. Most of them closed shortly thereafter as the rise in Chinese steel, big corporations with bigger CEO salaries who ate up smaller companies and their pension plans, and a general loss of young residents, led my parents to retire to Myrtle Beach. I was a rising junior in high school, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I left behind the oppression of Catholic schools full of alcoholic administrators, abusive teachers, and priests who have since been charged and/or convicted of molesting my classmates. My new public high school might as well have been on Mars. But I thrived there, where it was OK to be smart; I had friends and learned to speak the local way to avoid a little teasing. At this point, I told my mother that her volunteering at the school would not be tolerated, and indeed, I would drop out if she tried to interject herself. My brother was a freshman at the time, and we paved our own way based on our own reputation. We thrived. I graduated with honors, civics awards, academic awards, and a promising path forward. I stopped the destructive behavior path I was on in PA (but still had fun on weekends.) I was voted, "Most Likely To Succeed." And so I created a doorway through the wall and ran through it. I went to college and then nursing school at the best medical university in SC. I met my husband (he's still my husband) and his very warm and loving family and never turned back. I didn't step foot in a Catholic church for years (but attended other services regularly with my husband and still do.) Each visit, especially the first summer at home from college when my brother's curfew of midnight was imposed upon me, reinforced my desire to get away from my family. I refused to come back to the small world of walls that my mother had created. Instead, I learned to create flexible boundaries that kept me safely outside the wall.

This all worked great for me until I decided it was time to actually tear the wall down instead of just going out the door. Now that I was married and living in California, my mother came to visit. I took her to San Francisco. On the way, she told me about some people at her church and the trouble they were having with their children. She said something like, "I'm glad you never did any of those things!" I laughed out loud. She stared. I proceeded to tear down the wall, telling her all the things I had done - deprived, disobedient, dishonorable things - as a teenager, right under her nose. She didn't believe me. I gave her details. She said I was LYING. And then she said something I will never forget: "I don't know why you would LIE like that - are you trying to hurt me on purpose??" Yes, mom, this is all about you and your feelings.

So that, in a nutshell, is what it's like to have a narcissistic mom. I pour my heart out, explaining the troubles I had as a teen growing up in a home where I couldn't be myself, protected THANK GOD by a loving heavenly Father from having any severe consequences from my attempts to feel good about myself. To feel love. To feel affection. To feel acceptance. And in response, I don't get acknowledgment, concern, apology, understanding, kindness, or anything else that says, "I hear you, and I'm sorry I didn't see what you were going through." Instead, I got an admonishment for hurting HER. She refused to let the walls come down.

Over the years, my brother and I have had many discussions about the scars of our upbringing. He went through years of counseling, and I benefited from those discussions. I acted as his emotional memory. There were things he blocked that I remembered. My mom knows this and has said on a couple of occasions as we were discussing our insecurities and neuroses, "Surely that doesn't have anything to do with the way you were raised." Um, yes. Yes, it does, mom.

So what is a caregiver supposed to do when the boundaries you create to protect yourself have to come down? This has been the hardest part of taking care of my mom. She did not change. She just forgot. And now that she has some cognitive impairment, it's amazing how selective her long-term memory is. Ask her about her leadership roles in the symphony or memories from college; she can tell you lots of details. Ask her if she remembers forcing me to take piano lessons for 7 years, despite my lack of aptitude, and she is a blank (although she did admit one time a while back that she kept me taking piano so long because she enjoyed her weekly visit with my teacher, Aunt Char.) The opportunity for me to be acknowledged, or for her to offer forgiveness, seems to have passed because she doesn't remember the things I do. And even if she did, let's be real, it's unlikely she would apologize or acknowledge that she did anything wrong. I've tried, and she doesn't. We don't really talk; the apartment is quiet. Thank God my son is here, or I'd lose my mind. And still, she does not acknowledge when we have to sacrifice something to help her. When I talked to her about where she would go when she got out of rehab, she stated emphatically that she would not go back to Columbia, where I live. Never again. I offered to move to a handicap-accessible house. Still no. So I said, "So you expect me to leave my job and everything and move here?" And she quickly said, "OK." No acknowledgment of what that would mean for me, my husband, or my own children. Simply accepting that I would do that to meet her needs. Despite the years of boundaries, this was still her expectation - that I would conform. And given no other choice, I did.

In the song, "Don't Leave Me Now," the lyric focuses on the main character of the opera (Pink) as he calls out to whoever is listening, with desperation, to not be left alone. He is begging for his wife/mother/anyone to come back and love him. I get that. In an interview about the song he wrote, Roger Waters stated this about the fundamental truths found in the song:

"...if you're interested in writing songs or books or poems or writing anything, then those are the things that you try and write down, because those are the things that are interesting, and those are the things that will touch other people, which is what writing is all about, you know. Some people have a need to write down their own feelings in the hope that other people will recognize them, and derive some worth from them, whether it's a feeling of kinship or whether it makes them happy, or whatever, they will derive something from it."

I'm glad he wrote The Wall. It touched my life. I've been writing down my thoughts and feelings as a way of acknowledging them during this caregiving journey. The wall is high, but I made a door, and while the boundaries are down, I'm staring at the mirrors and learning the lessons that I have yet to learn. "Together we stand, Divided we fall." (Hey You, Pink Floyd.)

Meet Rita

Rita Miscoe 1948

Rita M Schloss 2018

I recently asked my mom (93yo) to complete a questionnaire that would help the people who will be caring for her at the Assisted Living to know more about her. Here are her answers. (She typed these herself in reply to an email I sent her.)

What was your job career?
Moved to Myrtle Beach from Johnstown, PA in 1980 at age 54. Managed a small motel until it was sold to the Caribbean Motel next door. Moved to that motel and served as Executive Secretary for Reservations, as well as all other phases of work there. Retired at age 80 due to a necessary moved to Columbia, SC during my husband's illness. (Note - She was not the Executive Secretary for Reservations. She was the Executive Secretary for the Arts Association in Johnstown, PA back in the 70's. At the motel she was a long-time and admired desk and reservation clerk.)

What do you love to see?
God's work with nature especially this year when everything is in full bloom. Happiness around me.

What do you like to talk about?
Working with friends in Bible Study make it possible to follow Jesus on His way with especially St. Paul at the head. Any subjects of value when with a group of friends such as things each is doing, where they had been and what they have plans to do.

Have you met anyone famous?
Both in Johnstown and Myrtle Beach I worked with and was Chairman for groups presenting concert series. I had the pleasure of having Arthur Fiedler from the Boston Pops to my home after the second time he came to Johnstown. Others, such as the Von Trapp Family Singers are to numerous to name but we held receptions for each after each concert. I got to know the Blues Brothers who were performers at a local Theater in Myrtle Beach. (Note - these were not the real Blues Brothers but a local cover band.)

What don't you like to do or talk about?
Politics, The outcome is determined through Congress and other governing bodies and we are at their mercy, be it good or bad. We can only pray that God will lead us on the right path, whatever it may be.

What do you think about the future?
I try to take "one day at a time" and thank God that I am able to be a part of life around me. We can only hope that God has us on the right track to keep us free from those who might have other than freedom in their itinerary.

What is your favorite way to relax?
Watching my many movies, doing jigsaw puzzles and doing word search and meeting with friends for fellowship.

What do you use every day?
My walker.

What is your most fundamental value in life?
Freedom and the ability to do volunteer work as much as possible.

What makes you happy?
The loving care I am receiving from my daughter and her family. Being among my many friends both sprirtually [sic] and for pleasure.

What do think happens when we die.
Depending upon our way of life we will either be in heaven or with the devil. Another case where prayer is most needed.

Taking Care of Rita - The Back Story

For the past 18 months, I have been the primary caregiver for my mother, Rita. She is currently 93, and in very good health, but her major joints are riddled with arthritis. She walks with a rollator, uses a wheelchair often, and cannot raise her arms above 90 degrees. She has just enough cognitive impairment to think she has nothing wrong with her reasoning, but also can't make competent decisions about her life. She had a severe tib/fib fracture from her arthritic knee and osteoporosis on December 29, 2017. Surgeons placed a rod and screws in her tibia to stabilize the leg. She recovered for 2 1/2 months in an excellent rehab in Myrtle Beach, and regained her ability to walk. However, it became obvious that she would not be able to live alone after discharge. So, on March 17, 2018, I became my mother's roommate and primary caregiver. On November 15th, my son (30) David became co-caregiver by giving up his life in Alaska to help me - not because the strain is physical, but because the emotional/mental strain on me concerned him so much.

This blog is the pouring out of what I've been holding on to for the past 18 months - and if I'm being honest, a lot longer than that.

My journey in full-time caregiving began after a warning from God that I needed to get ready for a change in my mom's life and needs. He began revealing this to me while I was serving in Rwanda in June 2017. He continued to make it clear on my trips back and forth to Myrtle Beach that Fall. He gave me a clear message that I needed to withdraw from my ministry obligations by December 31, because something was coming. I warned my boss when they asked for more time commitment that I actually needed them to prepare for my departure. So when I got the call about her fracture, I was not surprised. (God knows I don't do spontaneous well!! 😉.)

My husband, children, and grandchildren have had their lives turned upside-down by this journey. But in every case, they made sacrifices in order to take care of my mother, and me. I have been so incredibly proud of them!! But the loss of attention, care and time that we have experienced will be my greatest regret during this time. Not to mention the financial strain.

The pieces of the puzzle that have made this so difficult fall into a few categories:

• Power struggle: My mother and I have not gotten along since I was 13 and started becoming someone other than who she wanted and had imagined me to be. Her attempts to control my life led to me leaving home for college and not coming back. She refuses to recognize that she impacted my brother's or my mental health in any negative way. She said that she believes I am living with her now so I could take control of her life. Her desire to maintain independence and control of her own life, while expressing her disdain for my life choices, has shaped our relationship throughout my entire adulthood. 
• Narcissism: My mother is a narcissist, not to the extreme of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but definitely has the characteristics that make our relationship (and her relationship with our family) difficult. There was no affection, no affirmation (unless it was for compliance), and no willingness to listen to the point of view of others. It was a generational pattern. My father was also a narcissist, and they were co-dependent. My father ended his own life 10 years ago via voluntary dehydration. He had been bedridden by choice for 2 1/2 years prior to that, living a few blocks from me during that time, with my mother and I as his caregivers. It was while he was in rehab for 6 weeks of antibiotics for a foot ulcer that he chose to end his life at 84, clear-minded and healthy. Thanks to advanced directives, we were able to let him do things "his way" and pass peacefully. After 56 years of marriage, my mother considered herself "free" through his death. While she would love to have the freedom to end her own life now that she is not in control of everything, she would never do that because she is Catholic. However, she prays daily that God will take her home, soon.
• Boundaries: I had really good, hard-earned boundaries in place to protect myself and my family from my mother's tongue and attitude, and they have been torn to shreds. My brother (my only sibling) lives far from us and has some issues of his own. For the most part he has kept his boundaries in place and stayed out of the situation. 
• Lack of Resources: My mother and father did not practice good investing or purchase long-term care insurance, so all their care in the last years have been paid from savings. And she has outlived their savings. She cannot afford placement in an Assisted Living Facility. She refused to leave Myrtle Beach and move back to Columbia. Out of options, I was forced to move to Myrtle Beach to care for her, with the agreement that she would have 1 year in MB to be with her church and friends before we move our family to Clemson, with her in tow. She agreed to this, believing she would be dead before having to move. 
• Health concerns: My mother refuses to take responsibility for her own health. She defers to me to answer her doctors. She would not decide whether to have surgery for her broken leg, and in fact, she refused surgery that could have corrected her severe knee arthritis years ago that would have made her life completely different now. She had blocked me from being involved in her health until recently when her friends insisted she tell me about a fall and head injury. That was 4 years ago.
• Blessings: God is good. Sometimes I can see what He is doing. Other times I feel like I'm looking through clouds. It's like I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but I just can't see it because we're on a really long curve. There have been so many times God has stepped up to help - the warnings, the friends, the financial surprises (good and bad) that have not led to bankruptcy, being able to work out and care for my body, the education opportunities, clarity about priorities, opportunities to give and receive kindness, etc. The list can go on. So while this time has been difficult, in many ways I am healthier than I've been in a long time. 

I'm going to try to use this blog to explore what it's like to be a caregiver for someone who doesn't want to be cared for, while recognizing the blessings and challenges that offers. I've jokingly (and seriously) said I'm counting this time as a sabbatical - as an RN who is pursuing chaplaincy and is learning first-hand about the struggles of caregivers. 

HIdden Euthanasia

Note - this post was originally published in August 2017 on Kevin Bennett's excellent blog on Faith in Health Reform: https://faithinhealthreform.blogspot.com/

You know that feeling you get when something is just not right? For me, I get a weird shivery feeling on the back of my neck, and an uneasy feeling in my gut. Kind of like the horse in “Young Frankenstein” when Frau Blucher is mentioned. There are a lot of reasons I get this feeling; and I am going to catch flack for this one, but one of the main triggers is mentioning “pro-life.” 

In this case, it is the term “pro-life” being used to mean “anti-abortion.” And that is the problem for me: what does it mean to be “pro-life” in this world? I look around at our world with different lenses - mom, grandmother, daughter, nurse, military wife, public health advocate, Christ-follower - all of which help me see the world in different focus. 

The recent story of Charlie Gard in the UK reminded me again of what “life” is for many people. So many people were concerned about whether a child is allowed to “live” without considering what his life was really like, or could be. My current professional position takes me into the homes of people who are dealing with mental illness, many elderly and poor. Many have dementia, or depression. Most struggle with hopelessness, and most try to fit that into their own spiritual beliefs.  And their family struggles as well, with feelings of guilt for being inadequate (or worse, wishing for quietus,) and overwhelming responsibility. I see elderly people every day who are alone, poor, struggling, isolated, and feeling useless. Their lenses tell them that the best part of their life is over. They see that they are no longer contributing to the world in the way the world values, so they have no worth.  No one cares what they think (unless they’re a politician). No one cares about what they have or don’t have (unless they’re rich and there’s an inheritance coming.)  Their family sees them as a burden, and they know it’s true. 

This is not the case in every culture though. The elderly used to be held in high esteem, and still are in many other cultures. They are cared for lovingly until their death by their family.  This is changing not only in America, but also in places like Europe and Japan. Why? Oh man, that’s a can of worms question. I like what Pope Francis said: 

Look, at this moment, I think our world civilization has gone beyond its limits, it has gone beyond its limits because it has made money into such a god that we are now faced with a philosophy and a practice which exclude the two ends of life that are most full of promise for peoples. They exclude the elderly, obviously. You could easily think there is a kind of hidden euthanasia, that is, we don’t take care of the elderly; but there is also a cultural euthanasia, because we don’t allow them to speak, we don’t allow them to act. 

MEETING WITH YOUNG PEOPLE FROM ARGENTINA, ADDRESS OF HOLY FATHER FRANCIS, Thursday, 25 July 2013

I didn’t include the whole quote, but this part, in particular, applies to the question I’ve been ruminating about: At what point do we say that being “pro-life” includes caring for our elderly? 

One of the questions I hear a lot is, “Why won’t God just take me? I’m ready to go to heaven and be with Jesus and ______ !“(insert the name/names of their loved ones.)  If the person saying this is elderly, frail, lonely, unable to afford medicine and food, living in a place not of their choosing, no longer producing anything our society considers useful - is it wrong for them to yearn for death? Many Christians will say, “No, it’s not wrong. Jesus says heaven will be awesome! But don’t do it, or you’re not being grateful for everything you have.” They will tell their loved ones to fight for their life (that is, their earthly life) and then leave them alone in that fight while they go to work/school/soccer/vacation. They will say they must be depressed, so they just need a pill to make them feel better. True, that does help sometimes. But in our beloved country, we elevate usefulness above being, so we do not see value in the lives of those who cannot produce. This is true not only for the elderly, but also people with chronic illnesses and mental health issues. 

How is this in line with what Jesus teaches about loving each other? I mean, that’s what being pro-life is all about, right? You believe God creates each person, and therefore no life should be destroyed. If the pope is correct, we are destroying life every day through what he calls “hidden euthanasia.” Oh I agree, I’ve heard many Christians denounce euthanasia, so I believe this does outrage them - when euthanasia is a deliberate action that ends a life. Heaven help the person who chooses to stop eating or drinking, or taking their medicine, so their life can end. That’s suicide, and they’re going to hell. So are the doctors who enable them to do such an evil thing. Right? 

I can tell you that many of these hopeless people think they’re already in hell. No one is helping them experience life to the fullest, as Jesus promised. They hear the discussions on Fox News about how the poor are a burden on our health care economy, and how people who need government assistance are lazy and just want a handout. They live on social security because their promised pension and insurance benefits evaporated when their company’s CEO tapped their pension fund to ensure their profits for the investors. Is this representative of a Christian culture who is all about being “pro life?” 

If you think you don’t know anyone who has experienced this kind of slow death, take a walk. I visited with your neighbor last week. She is a widow, alone, and hungry, and scared at night. She didn’t get to her doctor’s appointment because she didn’t have a ride. She’s in the “donut hole” for Medicare so she can’t afford her medicine. No one took her to the store to buy groceries (she has $16 in SNAP benefits for the month to use.) She never gets to church anymore, so her christian friends have stopped calling. She really just wants to be with Jesus. Would you notice if she left the world? If no one notices, and she dies alone, is that euthanasia?

Got that feeling again...