I leant over the keyboard, head in hands, bowed down by frustration and disappointment that my dad’s care agency had let him down again and now I had to try and salvage the mess.
It felt like a week of failures I was unable to prevent: no promised callback about ordering his catheter supplies, missed lunchtime visits so he hadn’t eaten, carers not following his carefully drawn up care plan, and now an inexplicable rescheduling of his morning visit so he missed his precious day centre attendance again. And somehow I was supposed to sort all these problems in the middle of a busy working day, making me late visiting my own patients.
Was I wrong to hope for a simple sorry from the agency? And I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that Dad’s social worker wasn’t available to discuss the problems either. It was just turning out to be (another) one of those days.
On the edge of tears, I felt powerless to make things better and wondered how much longer I could keep trying.
Then I felt it. A gentle warmth on my back as a hand briefly rubbed up and down. Followed by a hug. Two colleagues, overhearing my telephone conversations and seeing my defeated posture, quietly moved closer to let me know that someone cared and that I was not alone. They gave no solutions, only listening ears, permission to feel, and understanding.
*****
Looking back, I remember another time when life felt overwhelming and I cried out to God to solve my problems. He didn’t. But He did reassure me with His promise of being right there with me as I went through it.
This time He did the same – but with friends.
thestufflifeismadeofblog 
How often that God doesn’t solve our problems when we ask! Right there with you. But He use people to bless us, and yes, in the silence and hugs, over coffee or a comforting smile. Somehow all this is our connection to God. Thanks for sharing. Not writing right now but don’t want to lose connection.
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Thanks Mary. Yes, it’s been a hard lesson to learn that God’s answer to my problems has not been to take them away but to say “I am with you”. I hope this fallow time from writing leads to great creativity for you.
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I wish I could hug you right now. You have so much to balance and I can feel your pain and frustration through your words (perhaps because I have been there to feel them myself in past years). Prayers that are answered in human flesh with hugs and warm smiles of understanding (and sometimes chocolate and coffee) are truly blessings. I hope you are blessed this week.
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Thank you. It’s a rollercoaster of emotion, some days and moments easy, others hard. I am trying to treasure the moments of blessing. God bless you too.
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So hard to go through those rough times. But so much better with friends! And of course, to feel the presence of God, whether through those friendships or alone with Him.
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And sometimes you don’t realise who those friends are until times like this. God turns up at unexpected moments and in unlooked for ways. Thank you.
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The pain and frustration of that experience is so alive in your post. I wish that those involved in elder care would catch a clue. Sorry. It just bugs me.
I am so glad that you felt the warmth and caring of others during this powerless moment.
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Thank you Kelly. It’s not deliberate unkindness, I don’t think, but a whole series of small errors that leave frustration with no focus. Thank God for those small moments of sympathy to counterbalance it.
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