We have the most special 95 year old neuro-patient with us. He was on his way to the office when, like Zimbabweans would say, he was attacked by a stroke. He is busy making a lightning-fast recovery and plans to go back to an incredible business he built up. On Tuesday morning during our staff meeting, I thought I would get all deep and philosophical (usually my staff see through this kind of gaslighting quickly… yet I rise) and talk about this inspiration of a man. I asked the the team, “Why do you think Mr Grové is doing so well?” The answer I expected was without a doubt something like:
“He has a purpose in life” or “He is motivated as he has a business to run,” or “He gets up in the morning and knows his life has meaning”. You can imagine, there are many scenarios of this that can play out. But as always, Kundai rained on my parade and said: “Well Ann, Mr Grové does not have a wife, so I reckon his life is easier and more worth living.”
I love my staff. Full stop. They are nuts.
Every time I am with Mr Grové, I am aware that I stand in the presence of great wisdom. He humbly shares his stories with me. He is incredibly successful and wealthy (this I know, not because he told me but because I am a master Googler). What he boasts about is not what usually impresses people, like cars, homes and holidays. He brags about his little granddaughter in her pigtails and pink party dress who comes daily to sit at his feet and play with her pink unicorn. He speaks about his son, who also visits daily and who makes him belly-laugh. He tells about a wife, whom he misses every minute of the day. He is always kind and polite to all of us, whether we are there to help him shower or to take him his tea tray. He is the kind of person I want to be, yet I still fall desperately short of him.
I suppose we cannot chat about the meaning of life without mentioning one of my favourite shrinks of all time, Viktor Frankl. (Frankl survived three different concentration camps and witnessed the deaths of his young bride, both parents and his brother. In his masterpiece Man’s search for meaning, he uses his experiences during the holocaust to explain why certain prisoners who had purpose or meaning had a better chance of survival than others.
This theory goes against the way Westerners understand “happiness” and I love when he writes: “When a person can’t find a deep sense of meaning, they distract themselves with pleasure.” There is a huge difference between having a well-deserved holiday and being on holiday all the time. It is wonderful to enjoy being spoiled and pampered and served, but we also have to serve. If our lives become just about ourselves, we get lonelier, are more prone to depression, have a greater need for constant recognition and material objects and although you might aspire to self-actualisation it often backfires in to self-destruction.
This morning I saw Talent (yes, imagine the fun I have with this gem of a name!) come out of a certain room for the umpteenth time. I know the chemo-patient is having a myriad of symptoms from the latest poison pumped into her veins. None of the symptoms are pleasant and I can only describe it as messy. When Talent walked past me again with a pile of freshly tumble-dried linen and a cup to take a urine sample, I asked her to come back and rather to let Nthabiseng go. She just looked at me with her big quiet eyes and said, “No, Mrs B will be embarrassed. If I go it is easier for her”. It is not easier for Talent, but serving is not about that is it? Later on in the day, I sat with Mrs B and she was wearing a soft beanie where before she boasted beautiful curly black hair. She is cuddled up in the recliner and tells me that she has asked her family not to come today. She wants to be alone, where life is simple, and she can just be. I went to hug Talent and told her that I am grateful for what she does. These incredibly sacrificial tasks she keeps on performing without accolades and recognition really matter. By doing this, she has created a safe space for someone fighting one of the most frightening battles a person can fight.
Perhaps this is not so impressive to most readers. After all, a carer HAS to care. It is a given in the name, right? But I am lucky enough to see it in other spheres of my life. I have a friend, Bridgette, who has more money than she or a few generations after her can spend, but she chooses to serve, quietly and consistently. She always shows up. She goes to orphanages and physically helps, gets her hands dirty and hold babies to her chest that no one else wants. She’s the one mixing the batter and flipping the pancakes when funds need to be raised. Bridgey will get up early to make her entire family and their legions of friends cooked breakfasts and clean up the kitchen because the domestic needed a day off. Recently her husband had a frightening diagnosis and needed surgery, but she still somehow managed to bake brownies for a friend’s twins and brought dinner and flowers to another friend whilst her mom was staying with me for end-of-life care. When I look at Bridgey, I do think that she is rich, not because of her bank balance, but because of a life lived generously.
Recently her mom got extremely ill and ended up in ICU. It was as if the people Bridgette had been serving for years stood up like an army around her. She could call on any of us, at any time, because we wanted a chance to serve her. In these situations, nothing else matters… only relationships, and thank God she made wonderful investments over many years. Our mutual friend was away for the weekend but phoned me and said; “I am relying on you to let me know. I am only two hours away, but if Bridgette needs us, I will come back.” Friends came to help and she did not leave her mom’s side for a week. During the very last night, when we knew her mom would die, two friends guarded with her, throughout the winter night, ensuring she was never alone. (One friend almost succumbed to hunger and ended up in ICU herself according to the rumours, but she stayed she stayed). Throughout this time, her tribe rose to every occasion because this is what we do. These friendships are sacred and built on service.
In his best-seller The Purpose Driven Life: What on earth am I here for?, Rick Warren writes: “Time is your most precious gift because you only have a set amount of it. You can make more money, but you can’t make more time. When you give someone your time, you are giving them a portion of your life that you’ll never get back. Your time is your life. That is why the greatest gift you can give someone is your time. It is not enough to just say relationships are important; we must prove it by investing time in them. Words alone are worthless. ‘My children, our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love, which shows itself in action.’ Relationships take time and effort, and the best way to spell love is “T-I-M-E.”
(The quote within the quote is a quote from Jesus Christ – this is for my atheist friends who love it when I sneak in these snippets to annoy them).
At the moment, we have a guest from Denver Colorado. A day after she arrived, her friend from Geneva came to be with her. She cannot reduce the pain or make the physio more bearable, but she is shouldering the burden with her. Her presence is her gift. Another guest from Canada’s husband flew in. He is huge and squeamish, but he promised to be there in sickness and in health. When your loved one is down, you show up and serve. Logically it makes no sense because we think that in these times we need doctors, carers and physios, but our souls need each other.
Right now, we even have a politician staying with us, and despite me wondering whether they have souls, his needs are the same as everyone else’s. He needs to be served and it is our great privilege and purpose to do just that.