Walk With Us

Elizabeth and I were two 25-year-olds in a church full of people listening to the pastor.

“Do you take this woman? Sickness and health? Richer or poorer? Better or worse? Until

death do you part?”

The right response was practiced at the rehearsal, and I knew it would be I do. A vow

before God and the State of South Carolina is not to be taken lightly, but I must confess, I spent little to no time considering the what ifs involved.

I wonder: What if I knew then what was to happen in sickness and health until one of us

died? Would I have said I don’t instead? Would I have turned my back on the future God had

prepared for us or would I have swallowed hard and asked Him to carry me through it?

Our merciful God doesn’t torture us with a window into our future. He only asks us to put

our future in His hands and let Him lead us into a new life l together, the three of us, even to

places we don’t want to be. Over the past 50-plus years God has led Elizabeth and me to places we don’t want to be, to places of sorrow, suffering and pain. She is shackled to an illness with no cure and depends on me for her care. I’m bound by love and promise to care for her. I do what she cannot do for herself, and she does all she is able for me. We’ve discovered there is blessing in both giving and receiving God designs our path to draw us closer to Himself. That process, to succeed efficiently, requires a submissive cooperation with God and a desire to know Him and understand His ways. It also requires a caregiver-care receiver understanding of each other’s perspective.

As Elizabeth’s caregiver, I’m humbled by much of what I must do. But what humbles me

humiliates her. Without that understanding, I could become resentful when I must place her

wants and needs ahead of mine. Likewise, she could blame me for her loss of dignity and self-esteem. We have come to realize that neither of us is the other’s enemy. The enemy is the disease. For Elizabeth, it’s multiple sclerosis. For others the enemy could be another chronic disease, an accident-related disability, or even an intolerable situation that needs a gentle and lowly Savior to be endured.

Come walk with us on our path, most of which has been traveled, yet more remains. As I

express my thoughts, emotions, and prayers as Elizabeth’s caregiver, she in turn responds with her own perspective as my care receiver. We discover things we never knew about each other and expand our sense of God’s magnificent love for both of us.

We pray the same for you, our readers.