J is for Juggling

If juggling were an Olympic sport, I wouldn’t win a gold, but I would at least qualify.

Two jobs Monday through Friday and every other Saturday, caring for my step father, Dave. Organizing Mike’s monthly calendar feels like a job in itself, coordinating rides for the to and from rides twice a week to dialysis, I do both ways every Saturday, but have to find fill ins if I have anything else going on. Sounds easy, but his regular drivers also have lives and things come up from time to time, they have to switch a shift, have their own appointment, are sick, on vacation, etc. Not complaining, we are so grateful for their sacrifice, just saying how it is sometimes.Then of course he has other doctor appointments which I try to find rides for (pain clinic, cardiologist, vascular surgeon, pcp to name a few).

Saturdays are their own special event. I enter what I call “my 4 hour Olympics”. I start by bringing Mike to dialysis, head to Walmart to fill up 8 gallons of water (our water at home isn’t drinkable), then I go to Market Basket to do out grocery shopping, drive home, haul it all in, put it away. Put Oscar (our dog) outside, usually start making Oscar’s food for the week. Try to squeeze in housework, maybe fold a load of laundry or start a load, or both. Some days I just stare at it for the few minutes I have to sit down to eat a sandwich. Then back to pick him up, unless it’s a week I have Dave, I go get him first, go get Mike, bring Mike home, bring Dave to his apartment, make him supper, sit with him while he eats, do the dishes and just visit with him, sometimes do a few things he asks me to do, sweep, restock his fridge with bottled water, help him with eye drops or feed the squirrels. 

I have Sundays off, but lately I’m so exhausted (I think my anemia is back), I just stay in my PJs. Many Sundays I visit some of the grandkids. I’ve planned to go visit my sister who had surgery weeks ago, but between the snow, illness and fatigue, it hasn’t happened and I feel like a jerk that I haven’t made it down there yet.

Somewhere in between, I try to fit in my own doctor appointments, it’s almost impossible to find the time. Sometimes I feel like I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Juggling is hard! 

Truth is, I don’t juggle because I love being busy, I juggle because this is what love and commitment looks like right now.

It looks like calendars and car rides, groceries and prescriptions. It looks like exhaustion mixed with devotion.

There are days I drop the ball, I forget something, I run late, I sigh too loudly, I feel like I have nothing left to give and there are days I cry in the shower where he won’t hear me. Then I suck it up, and continue the routine. God’s grace meets me in the chaos.

Maybe juggling isn’t about keeping everything perfectly in the air, maybe it’s about knowing who stands beside me (God) when my arms are tired. Because somedays I am not gracefully tossing responsibilities, I’m racing through the grocery store with one eye on my watch, the other on my phone and absolutely no idea why I am standing in aisle seven.

But even in the rush, even in the noise, I know this much: I am not alone in the juggling. The God that numbered my days already saw this one. He knew about the dialysis runs, the going to the second job after the first one ends, the Saturdays that feel like marathons, the dog food cooking in the crock pot and the calendar that looks like a game of Whack-a-Mole, just when one appointment & ride are settled, another pops up.

This life may look like constant motion, but at its center is love. Love for my husband, love for my family, love for the people who depend on me and thankfully, a God who never asks me to juggle alone.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7