Hope for the Caregiver Truth Network

Dr. Dan Scott joins me for a special conversation about the Church and caring for the mentally ill - and their families. 
PastorDanScott.com 
Dan Scott was born in Southern West Virginia in 1953. As the son of foreign missionaries, from his mid-teens, he lived in various places throughout South and Central America. After his marriage to Trish, he lived in Montreal, Quebec until 1983. In 1984, they moved to Nashville, Tennessee, where, except for a ten-year period in Phoenix, Arizona, they have lived since. He and Trish have two daughters and six grandchildren.
Dan has a Masters in Humanities from California State, a Masters in Psychology from Ottawa University, and a Doctor of Ministry from Lipscomb University. He is the author of several books, including the critically acclaimed The Emerging American Church and has pastored two Evangelical megachurches. He is an ordained Anglican priest and now works part time as a spiritual director for a mental health facility in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.
 
 

From HOPE FOR THE CAREGIVER 06/08/2024

Gracie was invited to sing for the President of the United States years ago. While the event was certainly memorable and exciting, what happened a few weeks later provided a seminal moment for me as a caregiver. 

Ever been on a cattle drive in Montana? 
I got to do this last week, and it was awesome. As caregivers, not every day will be filled with excitement and joy, but that doesn't mean we won't ever have days that lift our hearts, make us grin, and even make us feel exuberant. 
See more at peterrosenberger.com

One only has to see the news for five minutes, and the all too easy trap of enabling reveals its ugly head - a trap many caregivers understand. 
What can be done - what's our responsibility?
I discuss that and more in this Hope for the Caregiver episode. 
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There’s nothing quite like caring for someone with challenges or impairments to expose the gunk in one’s soul. Regardless of our best intentions, when selfishness rears its ugly head, our jaws can quickly tighten—and our fists clench.
As a pianist, my hands must always remain open to make beautiful music. As caregivers, what kind of music do we forfeit when resentment curls our hands into fists?
Try pushing a wheelchair with clenched fists. (Not with your loved one in it—use an empty one!) It’s challenging to do so. Clenched fists accomplish few tasks; it seems fighting is the only suitable task for them.
Caregiving will push all our buttons. People who tell you differently haven’t done it long enough. Yet, in those moments when seeing our character defects, we can remind ourselves to unclench our fists—and hearts—and allow beautiful music to flow from our souls.      
Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. And let it go. —Unknown