Many who have been around a Bible for any length of time have read about the mustard seed. It is the main character in a parable about planting faith in the world. Why the mustard seed? Because it is incredibly small:
Jesus Christ wanted us to believe that the same was possible with seeds of faith. No matter how little the seed, how futile the effort, how shut the door appears to be, spreading light around the world is supposed to have an impact, much like the mustard seed. This is a wonderful parable about a little bit of the right effort traveling far and wide.
Yet, so many times in my life, what I see from my vantage point is different. I see so much effort gone to waste. So much hope for so much change gone dashed. But, of course, that is where faith steps in once again. I have to count on a bigger picture that I cannot imagine, much less see.
While the mustard seed exemplifies the little bits of faith we are designed to plant wherever we go, I imagine a much bigger seed to represent something different but equally important: the seed of Care.
The seed of Care resonates particularly loudly during this time of my life. My grandmother Charlotte is 102 years old and has gradually declined over the years to the point that her quality of life is as close to zero as can be imagined. Over the past two months, in particular, she has alternated among --
speaking of how much she hurts, physically and emotionally,
and
begging me to take the hurt away,
and
pleading with God to take her home.
I can fix none of the hurt nor grant any of her wishes. How I wish I could. Yet, I can’t even make a dent in the problem, no matter how much I flail and wish to do so. Instead, with her compromised cognitive function making all communication uncertain at best and non-existent at worst, the only thing I seem to be able to do is hold her hand, rub her shoulders, and use my voice to offer some small (and often inadequate) comfort to her as she walks through these last days of her life.
My walk with Grandma Charlotte has been complicated by the fact that just three days ago, I had to leave her, mostly alone in her ALF in Dunedin, Florida. Although the staff at A Rose Garden take very good care of her despite the Medicaid tattoo she bears, there are no more family or friends in Florida to visit. Everyone has passed away or moved away. And, just three days ago, it was my turn to do that to her as well... leave Dunedin to come back to Washington State and my job at the University. A University which cannot survive if I were to take a day off (just ask them).
On the road now, traveling the many miles between the southeast corner of America to the northwest corner, I can only hope that God has a counterpart to the mustard seed. I can only hope that the days and hours spent by her side by not only me but my sister and the caring staff at A Rose Garden... have planted a seed of Care deep within Grandma Charlotte that will hold her close and safe through to the end of her stay here in this world.
Just two short days after I left for Washington State, Grandma Charlotte aspirated part of her dinner and immediately contracted pneumonia and a 103+ degree fever. She has been transferred to a hospice care facility, where nothing and no one are familiar to her.
She is alone and my hands are tied along the many miles of interstate between us.
We must have more than the mustard seed for Grandma Charlotte now, because her time is now so short.
Therefore, I demand the biggest seed of Care in the world for her ….
please
no sooner did i ask than my prayer was granted ... by dear friends in Florida, carrying the seed of Care along to the end of this journey with Grandma Charlotte.
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