The Sandwich Generation

I didn’t come up with that name. I just discovered it on Facebook once and immediately joined.

I love sandwiches - turkey and cheese with mayo, pickles, tomato slices (salted and peppered) with a little mustard, on sourdough is my classic favorite. But unfortunately, that was not the type of group this was and I knew that going in. (Although now that I think about it, I'd be okay joining a Facebook group that was all about literal sandwiches...)

You see, the sandwich generation is that group of us who are raising children and have also been taking care of parents who are ill and/or aging. We are the generation sandwiched right in the middle of two pieces of generational bread, caring for both.

My Dad passed away shortly after we had our first kiddo (17 years ago). She knew him all of 18 months. She only has the memories that I have told her about or what she has seen in pictures. They aren’t exactly her memories, but they are real nonetheless. My Dad was pretty great. If you knew him at all, you would wholeheartedly agree.

After my Dad passed, my mom was on her own. We thought she would be this strong independent woman… and in many ways she was! But there were times when she had to rely on us kids. Sprinklers needed fixing, trees needed trimming, there were times when she needed some encouragement and to be reminded that she had a purpose here on this earth. And there were numerous times when her health made her rely heavily on us.

One time she tripped on a bump that came out of nowhere and broke her elbow. Surgery was required. A car trunk fell onto her back while she was putting groceries inside - fractured vertebrae. She’s fallen a couple times, also resulting in broken vertebrae. She was diagnosed with pulmonary embolisms (after a prolonged hospital stay). She was diagnosed with colon cancer, had surgery and then started up with chemotherapy. She got covid once…maybe twice with one time resulting in a hospital stay. She’s had cataract surgery and eyelid lift surgery. She’s had a myriad of neuro symptoms that sent her to Stanford with not much of a diagnosis. And I know I’m missing some of her medical history because when she walks into a new doctor’s office and she has to fill out paperwork, when she comes to the section about surgeries, she just pulls out her little handwritten note that has all of the surgeries on it so they can make a copy.

And as of recently she was hospitalized with extreme pain, underwent a number of scans and biopsies, had way too much medication at times and not enough medication to handle the pain at other times, had good caregivers and not-so-good caregivers and we had to advocate for her through all of it. She has been moved from the hospital to a local rehabilitation facility because of that extreme pain which cannot currently be explained by any number of scans that have been done.

(Also, did I mention that the gift of caregiving skipped me? I feel like that is neccesary to mention. I would have made a terrible nurse, a horrible, no-good nurse. The idea of it all actually causes me a lot of anxiety.)

During all of this time of my mom's difficult healthy journey, I have had young children. This comes with being the youngest in the family - I’ve got the youngest set of grandkids on my mom’s side. Every one of my kids is younger than any other grandkid in the family. I’ve got a 19 year old, 16 year old, and two future sons who are 13 and 11 (still waiting on adoption). I am pulled in so many different directions - I feel like the waistband on a pregnant lady’s favorite maternity pants: stretched and worn out.

On the fortunate side of things, I have 3 brothers with wonderful wives. I am never alone in anything in regards to my mom. We are a team with multiple roles with the same goal: taking care of Mom the best we can while trying to maintain a healthy home life and maintain a good relationship with Mom. A delicate balance, sometimes.

In the middle of all of this is still me, with all of my own life things going on... which don't bear mentioning in this blog, but they are there nonetheless, adding to the chaos.

To say that God and I have had a few conversations about my position in life over the past few years would be an understatement. We talk constantly. It's probably more ME doing the talking and not enough listening, if I was to be honest. But I have been trying to listen and to work through all my personal overthinking to try to find His purpose.

Here's my jumbled mess of thoughts as I write today:

I've asked God to use me and to allow me to be His vessel.

I've asked Him to help me be more obedient to His call on my life.

I'm very well aware of my weaknesses.

Very well aware.

And that's where He decided to use me.

In my weakness.

Ugh.

Goodness, now that I write that out, it makes sense. It doesn't make it one bit easier, but I'll tell you what - the things that I have been doing over the past few weeks are beyond my mental strength and emotional capabilities. Just ask my husband - he listens as I dump the emotional mess on his lap and then he gives me a much-needed hug. But if you were on the outside looking in, you'd think that I'm handling it all very well. People have actually said that to me! Which makes me want to laugh and also cry.

I'm doing my best, but what I've realized is that my best is actually not that great. But the fact is that I haven't been doing it alone. Besides the teamwork from my siblings, we have a great big God who has also been handling it all a lot better than we have.

I can't speak for my siblings, but I guess I should be careful what I ask for. If I'm going to be a vessel, it isn't going to be the size and shape that I pick out. And I can't be the one to fill it. If I say, "God, use me," then I can't tell Him where or how. I mean in my mind it makes sense for Him to use my strengths, right? Because those are the things I'm good at and I could do a lot of good with those things. But then again, would I give Him glory if I thought I was doing it out of my own strength? Probably not as quickly as I give Him glory for doing it out of my weaknesses...

I guess the moral of the story is for me to STOP ASKING GOD FOR THINGS!!

"Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work." 2 Timothy 2:21