Transformation by service

Last November my mother was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Over a period of a few short months she deteriorated from very tired and mildly forgetful to being almost incapable of looking after herself. In the early days before a care plan was established things became a little fraught at home. To help my father I spent some time looking after mum. Part way through this I found myself washing her (very dirty) feet. It was not a task that I would have naturally chosen.

It was not an easy few days. I had very little sleep and was emotionally and physically exhausted. Yet those moments stick out in my memory as immensely special times. In caring for someone I loved, I found myself able to do jobs which under any other circumstance I would have found distasteful and looked back on in horror. On reflection it was not really my mother who benefited. Certainly her feet were cleaner and her toenails cut. She would have been more comfortable for a few days at least. I doubt that she has any recollection of it now. The impact on me runs far deeper. I learned things about myself I never knew. It made me think in new ways about what it really means to love my neighbour.

Each evening after I had settled my mother to sleep I read a bit from The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancey. One chapter talks of an encounter with Henri Nouwen. Yancey was staggered to find that Nouwen had given up a high-profile job to look after mentally handicapped patients.

Nouwen told me it took him nearly two hours to prepare Adam each day. Bathing and shaving him, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, guiding his hand as he tried to eat breakfast - these simple, repetitive acts had become for him almost like an hour of meditation.

I must admit I had a fleeting doubt as to whether this was the best use of the busy priest's time. Could not someone else take over the manual chores? When I cautiously broached the subject with Nouwen himself, he informed me that I had completely misinterpreted him. "I am not giving up anything," he insisted. "It is I, not Adam, who gets the main benefit from our friendship."

Now, nearly six months later I am still absorbing this. Nouwen was a well-known author and theologian. He had earned world-wide respect for the insight of his books, and yet he dedicated the last ten years of his life to the direct care of others. This takes me back to the idea of living sacrifice I started with. And yet losing his life to serve others Nouwen gained so much. Yancy goes on to write "He had learned to love Adam, truly to love him. In the process he had learned what it must be like for God to love us."