Caregiving and Concert-Binging November 2023

Julian and Sarah.

My peoples.

They’re both cherished and loved. 

They both live with physical challenges that require, not constant, but continual attention.

Yes, there is younger son and soon-to-be-daughter-in-law, Mom & Dad and all the other extended peeps, but they’re physically well enough on their own.

I am a caregiver to Julian and Sarah.

Anyone who is caring for a loved one will eventually admit, as honesty meets exhaustion, that the toll is extreme but they’d rather not regularly share the details publicly.

Julian’s challenges will be with him his whole life. He’s on the spectrum and has epilepsy. Overall, though, he’s strong, healthy, loves working at the farm, loves all animals, loves his tools & old fire extinguishers

and rocks out on his drum set nearly every night. He’s all about live concerts and his tour t-shirts. He really can’t carry a tune, but music matters to our guy.

Sarah’s challenges have been arriving in waves through her adult years. A number of challenges (this not being the place to list them) have culminated in our ultimate moment: 

awaiting a

kidney transplant. Interestingly, music and specific playlists help her nearly everyday get through a visit or treatment or procedure or even a single, heavy moment at the house. The Carpenters, Bon Jovi and Trisha Yearwood all get huge thank yous from us.

Julian loves music.

Sarah loves music.

I love music, too.

Sadly, in the whirlwind of caregiving, work and life overall, over the last couple of years, I let my guitars stay cased in the closet, often for weeks at a time. It went so long at one point that a lifetime’s worth of callouses left my left hand, replaced by skin far too smooth to be a guitar player.

But a turn in caregiving, music, guitar playing, soul care and sanity arrived earlier this year. At the end of ‘22, I purchased tickets for me, the younger son & his lady to catch Ben Rector’s Old Friends acoustic tour stop in Fort Worth in March ‘23. I wasn’t feeling physically spiffy that night, but we attended nonetheless.

The show was great (Ben always is)!

G & L were a good hang. I love those two.

It was worth the effort and miles.

While acquiring the Ben tickets in ‘22, I also purchased a solo ticket to catch the Alter Bridge concert the following night in Dallas. I attended, still feeling less than great (dang kidney stone!!) and realized again, for the first time in a long time: I love live music! It matters to my being.

After seeing Wolfgang and Tremonti play that night the thought started dawning that maybe I should pull the guitars out and pick a bit. Another thought soon followed—these shows were great, they helped me feel good, they helped me feel again, lifting my spirit; maybe there’s another concert to catch in the near future.

The most necessary turn in this grand-concert-going-plan happened when I mentioned to Sarah that there might be another show or two I’d like to catch. Her response was immediate, emphatic and loving: “I can’t go these days, but you should go to any concert you can, see anyone you want, I know you love concerts. It’ll be good for you.” 

And so my “Sarah blessed concert binge” began. 

Since that day, I have been playing guitar most days, maybe just for 5-10 minutes but playing, and I’ve attended bunches of concerts. Bunches!

I haven’t made it to every show I wanted to see. Sometimes work prevented attendance, like missing the Dave Matthews Band show in Dallas in May. Other times two or even three good choices fell on the same night requiring missing someone, somewhere. But this year I’ve been blessed and thrilled to be in many a club or theatre or church or stadium or even open field where memorable magical musical moments occurred. I’ve watched unrivaled international talent mesmerize 100s up to a 100,000 all at the same time. I’ve sung, danced and headbanged with family and with total strangers all across America. So far this year, I’ve seen shows in what I consider to be my general area (Dallas, Longview, Tyler, Texarkana and Shreveport) as well as concerts in Houston, Nashville, Albuquerque and Sacramento. 

Each time I return from another concert or even

series of concerts, I have smiles and videos and stories and often a tour t-shirt. It’s been a year of good, true, right experiences and memories. 

Music does not erase our challenges. 

Music does, however, soothe my soul.

Live music, lost in the moment, part of a community of people enjoying the same thing, being where we all are because of desire, all of it has been good for me. 

I’ve approached this year of ticket purchases with a very open hand—I knew I may not be able to attend a given ticketed show and if that was to be the case, it was okay. It’s not a waste; it was just a plan with a few bucks attached. The caregiving challenges could always break into the plans with an unexpected sickness, surgery or situation. So far, all but one ticketed concert have been attended.

Current count is 30 concerts seen.

I have a few more shows to see yet this year and some concert plans in ‘24, just not quite the pace of ‘23, but a few things to look forward to down the road. And that’s part of the soul care ritual here: expectation of a simple pleasure. 

If you’re a caregiver, especially one with a long term forecast, any break you can take, any goodness you can bestow on yourself, do it.

It is not selfish. 

I repeat, it is not selfish. 

It’s kindness. 

Be kind to yourself.

True-Opposites-November 2023

Two seemingly opposite things can be simultaneously true. There are some folks who might possibly dispute that, the more didactic among us. Yet, the harshness of life on this side of glory has been bringing the tension of the true-opposites into sharper contrast for me lately.

God heals. I believe that.

I also believe we have lifelong disabilities and chronic loss-of-health.

Opposites, so it seems.

To relentlessly chase to embrace the first truth can lead to an almost comical fanaticism.

To cling solely to the second truth will grind faith, hope and charity to dust.

To only have the perspective of the first seems to disclaim we all have an enemy always looking to destroy us.

To stay locked in the second denies the truth that God is exactly who He says He is: Healer and the One making all things new.

The prayer approach and faith balance between the two is…I’d at first say difficult, but it’s more that it’s ever-presently tense in me.

Our longtime Nashville pastor Scotty Smith regularly reminded us from the pulpit that we live in the Now and the Not Yet. 

Another couplet of true-opposites.

Over the past few weeks I’ve repeatedly encountered Scriptures, songs, posts, podcasts and comments about the focus of Not Yet: Jesus’ return. Some hear the phrase “Jesus is coming back” and all the apocalyptic Hollywood-ness floods their mind. For some it’s a fear-filled, convicting and horrifying thought. It is true, He will return and it will be stunning.

But in my/our true-opppsites life, it’s a lot more comfort than concern, a lot more hope than horror. St Paul wrote that on this side (Now) we see through a glass dimly, but THEN we shall see face to face (Not Yet).

Yes.

Come quickly, Lord.

I know then there will be ultimate healing.

Still, today, the prayer is for healing, restoration, rightness N-O-W, NOW!

Mercy.

The Gospels are full of varied healing accounts. In St Mark’s Gospel there’s a recounting of a father whose son has seizures due to an impure spirit. 

It’s really bad, like hopelessly 

bad for the dad. The man wasn’t faith-less, but he was absolutely faith-depleted. 

At wit’s end.

The dad was reduced to “IF you can help us”. Jesus looked into that man’s eyes and assured him it would be done and the man honestly prayed directly to Jesus’ face, “Lord, help my unbelief”.

Some kernel of belief, trust and hope for healing led him to Jesus. Then the healing moment finally arrived, but (the ever-presently tense thought)…it was many years into the struggle with the dad admitting he was spent. While reading that portion of Mark’s Gospel, I also noticed the very one needing healing, the son, has nothing at all to say in this account. There’s no mention of the son’s age, other than the father explaining his son has been this way “since childhood”. For all we know, he could have been an adult, like 27 years old. The dad has faith, barely, for his boy. He didn’t have the answers, but he came face to face with the one who did.

Many of us wrestle with this over a lifetime with children, spouses, extended family, friends, colleagues, all forming an endless list of needed healings.

One of the first portions of Scripture I memorized was Psalm 23. I repeat it often. David wrote “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Desperately desiring healing and restoration equates as that valley to me. Loss of health due to a chronic condition and/or a lifelong disability are on the death-loss-side of existence, not the life-vitality-side.

So I repeat the Psalm to remind myself: You are with me/us.  I breathe the prayer: Jesus, heal and restore the ones I love.

Today.

Today?

Today.

Then I pray: Help my unbelief and Come quickly, Lord.

Two apparently opposite desires, but simultaneously true.