I Just Want 5 Minutes Alone With This Jerk

God told me something the other day, so I will pass it on today. I was putting groceries in the car and thinking about something unpleasant I had to deal with, and I heard, “I am tasting my own punishment.”

What this means is that I, myself, ordained the problem I was going through. I didn’t wave a scepter and say, “On May 1, 2018, because of this unrighteous act or thought I had on an earlier date, I will have to perform the following unpleasant duty and be inconvenienced.” I didn’t do that, but it was as though I had. I had failed God in various ways, of my own free will, and it was catching up to me.

I was dealing with one of my dad’s dental appointments, if you want to know. I had to drive him to the dentist, sit in the waiting room during a cleaning that took forever, listen to a boring report from the hygienist, receive burdensome instructions from her, take my dad to the grocery store, and then drive home. I was told to make sure my dad did certain things when he flossed, so now I have a new, perpetual duty which will not be easy to perform.

Telling my dad to do anything was nearly impossible when he had all his faculties. Now it’s worse. If he wants to cooperate, he may remember to do it. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, he will forget every day, over and over.

I realized my burdens would continue to increase as long as my dad lived. That’s daunting. Presumably, right now, things are better than they will ever be during his future. At least until he has to go to an assisted living home.

Where would I be, had I listened to God back in the 1980’s? I would have built a better foundation. I would have a wife to help me with my problems. I would have fewer problems to begin with. I would have better supernatural weapons to fight my problems. I would not be a caregiver for a person who hates Christianity and contemns God.

God blesses people who obey him, and he gives them lives of victory and peace. He doesn’t heap burdens on them. We heap them on ourselves.

Sometimes my dad says he’s sorry I have to deal with his problems. I’m not sure why he does that. Maybe it’s because he didn’t get involved with his mother’s care when she started to decline. It may be that he would be extremely resentful if he were in my position, so he assumes I am resentful, too. I do experience a certain amount of momentary resentment on occasion, because his attitude is often poor and because he put himself in his current situation through a lifetime of deliberate choices. Overall, however, I see what I do for him as necessary, and I never complain about anything except when he does things that make my job harder.

I don’t hate my situation, and I don’t think he should apologize when I have to do things for him.

His mother had a hereditary aorta deformity that resulted in an aneurysm. It ballooned up, and stagnant blood accumulated in it. Somehow this caused neurological problems in her lower body. They fixed the aneurysm, but she had to have her legs amputated, and not long after, she died. I don’t know too much about it. I didn’t go to her funeral. I suppose I should have, but I felt very detached from her. It was like hearing that a neighbor’s mother had died.

I just looked up the date, because I didn’t remember when she died. That shows how little she was involved with me. She didn’t send Christmas or birthday gifts to my sister or me.

I am not close to my dad’s family. They have had very little to do with us over the years, and my dad didn’t show much interest in reaching out. Later in life, he started to take them on occasional fishing trips, but in all honesty, I think that happened because they wanted things from him. He had a big boat in Miami, and he had done well for himself, so he provided the opportunity for free vacations. It may also be that they hoped for some recognition in his will. I believe that had he been less prosperous, we would heard almost nothing from them. We used to go multiple years without hearing a peep. I suspect that he invited them on trips partly to show off.

Here’s a story. My dad owned a beach house on the gulf. He invited his relatives to visit. They arrived before my parents did. When my parents showed up, the house was full of groceries.

My aunt and uncle gave my dad the grocery bill. They had saved it for him. My mother never got over that.

Another story. My grandmother was a widow when she died. She had a few possessions. My dad’s relatives went to her apartment and cleaned it out. We received two items chosen by the relatives: a crystal angel and a porcelain horse. These had been gifts from my dad. My mother put them in front of me, told me they were our inheritance, and told me to pick one. You can find the same angel on Ebay for under $35. I only keep it because I would feel guilty if I threw it out.

My dad paid for the funeral.

I like my dad’s family for the most part, but I am aware that his relationship with them is very bad. They would probably disagree, because the relationship is cordial, but anyone who has a healthy relationship with relatives should be able to tell the situation I’m describing is abnormal.

My dad has a married sister, and he had another sister who died following a period of dementia. I can’t name all of my first cousins from the second sister and her husband. I don’t know where they live. I don’t know how many kids they have or what their names are. At least one of the sons is dead. I didn’t go to the funeral. I know the other sister’s son died many years ago. I didn’t go to his funeral, either. He has a sister. I don’t know her married name. I don’t want to look her up or get to know her. It would be awkward.

I’m digressing.

My relationship with my mother’s family was good, so I have some notion of duty to kin. When your demented father has to go to the dentist, or his bathroom has to be cleaned, you don’t run off and hide in a strip club. You don’t berate him or expect him to grovel, either.

Would I do these things for my remaining aunt? No. She would not expect it, and I am no closer to her than a stranger who works at a nursing home.

I’m not a martyr. That’s where I’m going with this. Things aren’t that bad. At the same time, things are not what they should have been, and I am to blame. If I had been aligned with God at an earlier age, I would be somewhere else, doing different things, with different people around me.

A friend of mine didn’t get to know God until she was middle-aged. She doesn’t have any kids. That was a choice she made. She regrets it now. She says God told her, “You are not late.” That must be a nice thing to hear. I am late. I acknowledge it without reservation. I am very late. God doesn’t have an obligation to turn back the clock and give me another chance. I’m glad he’s willing to help me make the most of the leftovers that remain.