The Good News of Vulnerability?

by Craig Wong

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  -2 Corinthians 12:9

A simple walk to the car with my dad, recently, was particularly poignant. I held my dad’s right hand while my brother-in-law, Greg, took hold of his left. My nephew Michael took the rear, ready to support from behind should wobbly knees prevail. My mom led the way, positioning herself squarely in her husband’s line of sight, issuing gentle encouragement forward, even if only baby steps. My brother Kevin pulled up the car to shorten the distance between start and finish.  Utterly dependent, this man - who used to leave me in the dust in foot races to establish his athletic superiority - now took over a half hour to travel a mere six yards.

As I write this, I am slowly losing my father to Alzheimer's Disease, a progressive form of dementia that compromises the brain's patchwork of cells needed to retain information and perform cognitive functions. The long march downward likely began a decade ago, but the past year has seen the greatest decline.  Today, a harsh and painful reality has prevailed: my Dad’s needs have exceeded that which even my mother's unquestionably heroic care-giving could meet.

Seeing my dad in such a helpless state has caused my mind to wander to more youthful days. I remember the Marlboro-smoking man who taught us always to “take the bull by the horns” the way he (and John Wayne) did. Indeed, returning from the Korean War, he worked his way through one of the nation’s most prestigious art schools, becoming a gifted and industrious designer. He fashioned the interior spaces of countless buildings ranging from big department stores to high-rise corporate offices and even nuclear power plants.  Beyond aesthetics, however, my dad's craft was about optimizing physical environments for human collaboration, creating the spaces where people worked interdependently to solve problems and execute shared objectives. 

For my 50s generation “self-made” dad, the glaring reality of dependence, and inter-dependence, had become graciously inescapable. In caring for my dad, I’ve become more keenly aware of my own vulnerability, seeing in his physical frailty what will one day be mine.  I’ve felt vulnerable in other ways as well. What do we do? Are we making the right decisions? Do we have all the right information? How is Mom doing, and are we doing what’s best for her? Are we putting our relationships at risk? What are the long-term implications?

But, with such vulnerability came grace. It came from all sides. The rallying together of my siblings. The senior care specialists that helped us navigate the landscape of institutional support. The nurses, physicians, social workers, janitors and food service providers during his hospitalization. The in-home providers, physical therapists, ambulance drivers, and medical equipment suppliers. The restaurant manager who came to my Dad’s aid. The police officers who joined the search when he wandered astray. My fellow congregation members who watched my kids so I could watch my dad. The prayer group that prayed for my family regularly. Sister Beverly, who got my mom out the house for conversation, laughter and perspective.  The wisdom of the saints who’ve gone before us in the care of aging parents.

Through it all, I have come to more deeply appreciate the gift of each other.  We learn this best, I’m coming to realize, in those places of deep vulnerability. To be reconnected to each other, that is, to be restored to life as God originally intended for humankind, is the very power of the gospel. Realizing that Christ, His own body broken for us, graciously exposes our brokenness to draw us back to Himself and to one another is indeed good news.