Seriously, God...my mother can't wait in the car, so I can give someone their Triple Dipper?
We can pause our lives for others and see how we can experience God.
When I can, on a Monday or Tuesday, I help out my sister by picking up my mom from her house, firing up the Korean hymnal playlist on Spotify, and driving her towards the nearest Doordash zone to find an order to deliver. Since her dementia started, my mom loves riding in the car to just cruise—no aim or destination necessary. Belting out Korean gospel songs is a bonus for her, but the drive is enough. For my own sanity, I need some kind of task so I feel like we aren’t just burning gas. Starting to Doordash when I drive her around seemed like a sensible solution.
On a recent mission, I picked up an order at Chili’s and navigated an unknown part of downtown to drop off someone’s Triple Dipper with boneless wings, mozzarella sticks, sliders and a large Dr. Pepper. The twist to this order was I’d never delivered to someone in a multistory apartment complex, and I didn’t have instructions on how to get into the building.
After parking my car in a nearby private church parking lot with abundant signage that I would be towed if I parked there, I told mom not to leave the car as I went to drop off the food for just a few minutes. She understood, but I locked the door so if she left I could at least hear the car horn blare if she opened the door. With a bag of food and drink in hand, I scurried a half block toward what I could make out as the front door of the lobby. The weather was decently warm, and I was impressed with this new building I’d never seen before. When I arrived at the door it was locked. Again, I had no access code, and I began to look for some kind of intercom. Seeing none, I stepped back wondering what I’d do next.
Then I heard my car horn—mom had decided to leave the car.
I ran back the half block I came down, making sure I had enough pace to intercept mom, but not so fast to spill this person’s Dr. Pepper. When I got there, my mom was sitting there calmly with the passenger side door open.
“Why did you get out of the car?”
“I was bored.”
“Really? Are we serious?”
Unsure what to do next, I got in the car and began slowly driving down the street I walked down. Calling this person would make sense, but I felt shame in having to bother the patron. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t have instructions, but it wasn’t this person’s fault that I had an elderly woman with me who didn’t want to cooperate and stay in the car. Slowly approaching the door I found previously locked, I made eye contact with a woman through the glass, and then I knew this Triple Dipper had to be hers. I stopped the car, we smiled at each other, and I handed her the food and drink intact. Back in the driver seat I let out a long breath, thankful to God I hadn’t fumbled the order or lost my mom in the process.
“Mom, do you want to go home now?”
“Whatever is good for you. I am just here for the ride.”
“All right, let’s try another.”
For young parents they often talk about the hardships of having to raise young kids, but there is the circle of life—some day our kids may be taking care of us. It is the bookends of a long season of life as parents. Most of us hope that we will not be a burden to our kids. My mother isn’t a burden to my sister or me, but she needs someone to take care of her in these last chapters of her life. I only have a few hours of Doordash shenanigans with her, but my sister has all day, every hour. Those who take primary care of someone who can’t fully take care of oneself—a child, a sibling, a parent—often have something they are trying to accomplish for themselves that makes the entire situation that much more complicated. I finished my order that day and went back to my life, but how many others have to pause their course of life to give themselves to care for another?
For work, I conducted a research interview with a woman who had left her executive level bank job to take care of her mother for a handful of years. I thought she would say it was the best decision she made, but there was a bittersweetness to her story. No longer on her executive track and her mother being difficult to handle, this woman wasn’t sure what she was doing anymore. Her path forward murky and her feelings in the moment conflicted, she felt stuck and unsure of what this was all leading towards.
For me driving my mother around is a small act to help my sister, but it feels like a small pause in my life. Most of my life, I have always felt what I was experiencing in my current state—school, raising kids, advancing in work—were all leading to something grander. They still may be, but they were stepping stones to be rushed though to get to that next mountain top. Driving my mom, almost failed Doordash deliverys… they don’t feel like they are heading anywhere. I’m beginning to wonder if it has to lead me to any specific destination. I get to see my mom, help my family, experience something I can laugh about, and reflect on God through it all. Perhaps that’s being in God’s presence for me. It’s not a task to finish or an unwanted pause, but a time to experience God again.
Beautiful thank you for sharing