Rayna Neises 0:02

Welcome to A Season of Caring podcast, where we share stories of hope for family caregivers, breaking through the busyness and loneliness of caregiving to find hope. I'm Rayna Neises, your host, and I am really glad that you are here today. Today, I wanna talk about one of the hardest places we come to in caregiving, the moment when we realize there might not be a fix. That is not where most of us start. Most of us begin caregiving with questions, energy, a desire to help. We call the doctor. We research the diagnosis. We learn about the medications, the therapies, the routines, safety tools, and resources. We talk with family. We gather information. We make plans. And we do everything that we know to do to make life better for the person that we love. And many times those things matter. The right resource, it can bring relief. The right support can reduce stress, and the right doctor with medication adjustments or change in routine, it can really make a real difference. And I don't want to minimize that because wise action is part of faithful caregiving. But there's also a season when no matter how much we love someone, no matter how hard we work, we come face to face with something we cannot change The diagnosis remains, the decline continues, the body does not respond the way that we hoped. The mind doesn't come back the way that we longed for. The family situation doesn't suddenly become simple, and the prayer that we prayed over and over and over again does not unfold the way we imagined. And when that happens, it can shake us. Caregivers are often problem solvers by necessity. We notice what needs to be done, and we do it. We become advocates and organizers, researchers, schedulers, medication managers, and sometimes even the emotional anchor for the whole family. So when we run into a situation that cannot be fixed, it can feel disorienting. It can even feel like a failure. But I don't believe it is failure. I believe it is one of the places where God begins to teach us the difference between fixing and faithfulness.

A Sudden Crisis With Mom

Rayna Neises 2:44

I learned that difference in very personal ways through both of my parents' journeys. When I think about my mom, I think about how quickly things changed near the end of her life. She passed away in late October. It'll be twenty-eight years ago now. And though a lot of years have gone by that season, it still has a tenderness to it. She'd been at home in what I would say her normal, and within a few days everything had shifted. She was in the hospital, and after what I would describe as a psychotic break she became stuck in a loop that continued for six weeks before her passing. There were many details in that season but the heart of it was this: We wanted someone to be able to help her. We wanted an explanation that would lead to a solution. We wanted a doctor to find the thing that would make a difference. We wanted the story to turn. And they couldn't fix it That is such a helpless feeling. When someone you love is suffering, every part of you wants to do something. You want to ask the right question or find the right specialist, try the right medication, or discover the missing piece that changes everything. But in that season, with my mom, we came to a place where there was nothing more anyone could do. And that kind of helplessness is just hard.

Dad’s Long Road And Pushing

Rayna Neises 4:23

Years later with my dad, the lesson came in a different way. His journey was long, and for much of it, my role with my sister and other caregivers had been to be the pusher. I was the one who kept looking for the next option, the next support, the next decision, the next way to help. And in that role, it fit me really well. I could advocate, I could organize the, options, I could just keep moving. But almost a year before my dad passed, there was a prayer that just settled into my heart. I kept asking the Lord to help me to know when it was time to stop pushing. That may sound simple for you, but it was not simple for me. I knew I could push long past the point where my dad or God even wanted me to. I knew I could keep going because I had done it before, because I also knew that my ability to keep pushing was not the same as God asking me to keep pushing. And I did not want to make the mistake of thinking that determination was discernment .That became a very important prayer in that season. Lord, help me to know when it's time to stop pushing. Help me to know when Dad is ready to stop pushing The Lord helped me know that faithfulness changes shape because it does. There are times when faithfulness looks like fighting for an answer. There are times when it looks like advocating firmly, asking another question, getting another opinion or making sure your loved one is not overlooked. I believe deeply definitely deeply in this kind of caregiving. But there are also times when faithfulness looks like accepting that the focus has changed. It may look like choosing comfort over more intervention. It may look like calling hospice. It may look like admitting that the current plan is no longer sustainable. It might also look like saying we've done what we can do and now we need to love well in a different way. It's not giving up to do it differently That's discernment And discernment is one of the greatest gifts that we need in caregiving. The hard part is that there is usually not a bright line that tells us when the shift has happened. It's rarely obvious in the moment. We're often making decisions with incomplete information, tired hearts, and the pressure of wanting to avoid regret. We want to know we did enough, we tried enough, we asked enough questions, we loved enough. And that's why this conversation matters so much because if we define faithfulness as fixing the situation, then many caregivers will feel like failures. But if we begin to understand faithfulness is walking with the Lord in truth, love, wisdom, and surrender, then even the hardest seasons can be lived with peace. Not easy peace not shallow peace but just the kind of peace that comes from knowing the outcome was never ours to control.

Sufficient Grace In Weakness

Rayna Neises 8:16

One passage that speaks to this for me is in 2 Corinthians 12 where Paul talks about the thorn in his flesh. He's asked the Lord three times to take it away. I imagine most of us can understand this kind of prayer. "Lord remove this heal this make it stop." But God's answer was not removal. His answer was, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power has been made perfect in peace." I've thought about that verse many times and caregiving has made me hear it differently. I used to focus mostly on the power and the weakness part and that is beautiful but I think caregivers also need to hear the word sufficient. God does not always give us the fix that we're asking for but He does promise sufficient grace; Grace for the conversation we don't want to have, grace for the decision that breaks our heart, grace for the day when the answer is not what we hoped, and Grace for the moment when we realize we cannot carry tomorrow yet. Grace for our limits, our grief, and our need for Him. That is not always the kind of answer we want. I'll be honest about that. Sometimes I just want the whole map. I want enough strength for the entire season. I want God to show me exactly how long it will last, what will happen next, and how all the pieces will fit together. Oh, but most of the time, that is now how He leads. He gives us daily bread, and I think that is mercy even when it feels frustrating.

Daily Bread For Today’s Needs

Rayna Neises 10:19

In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches us to ask for daily bread, not next year's bread, not even provision for every possible future scenario, right? Daily bread. And caregiving often has to be lived this way. Enough wisdom for today's decision, enough patience for today's frustration, courage for today's conversation, enough strength to do what actually is ours to do today, and enough trust to release the rest into God's hands. That distinction between what is ours and what is God's is so important. There are real things that belong to us as caregivers. It may be ours to make the appointments or gather the information or watch for changes and communicate those with the doctors, ask questions, protect dignity, set boundaries, and even make hard decisions. Those responsibilities matter But there are other things we slowly begin carrying that were never really ours. It's not ours to stop every decline. It's not ours to make every family member understand. It is not ours to keep our loved one happy every moment. It's not ours to prevent every crisis, and it's not ours to guarantee that the story ends the way we prayed that it would. Those things matter deeply, but they are too heavy for us because they belong to God. We carry what belongs to us, caregiving is hard. It can be lived with wisdom and grace, but when we carry what belongs to God, caregiving becomes crushing. We begin measuring ourselves by outcomes we were never able to control. We start to believe that if the situation is still hard, we must be doing it wrong Friend, if you are living in a season where there is no fix, I want you to hear me clearly. The fact that you cannot change the outcome does not mean that you are failing. It also doesn't mean that God isn't good. It may mean the assignment has changed. Maybe the assignment is no longer to solve but to comfort. Maybe it's no longer to push but to be present. Maybe it's no longer to search for the one more option but to create peace around the options you already have. It's no longer time to hold everything together but to let others step in and help carry the load.

Wisdom Over Willpower

Rayna Neises 13:17

This is where we need to be honest with God, with ourselves, and often with the people around us. Honesty, it sounds like this is no longer working. It might sound like I cannot do this safely by myself anymore. It might sound like we need to talk about hospice. It might sound like I'm tired and I need help or I don't know what the next right step is but I know we cannot keep pretending nothing has changed That kind of honesty can feel scary, especially if you've been the strong one or the one who keeps pushing. But Honestly, it's not about a lack of faith. It's often the doorway to wisdom. James tells us that if any of us lacks wisdom, we should ask God, Who gives generously. I love that promise because caregiving requires a steady stream of wisdom. Not just information, though information's important. Not just energy, though we certainly need that too. We need wisdom to know when to speak, when to wait, when to try again, and when to stop, when to advocate, when to accept, when to keep a routine, and when to change the plan. There are moments when love says, "Keep going," and There are moments when love says, "This is enough." Knowing the difference is not something that you can always figure out by willpower. We need the Lord. We need wise counsel, doctors, professionals who will help us and tell us the truth. We need people around us who can help us see clearly when our fear, guilt, or even exhaustion is just clouding the decision. Sometimes we need to remember that caring without regrets doesn't mean doing everything possible. It means doing what is wise, loving, and faithful with the information that we have in the season that we're in. That's a tidbit of truth that I wish every caregiver could hold onto, because everything possible can become a dangerous standard. There is always one more article to read, one more treatment to consider, one more option to seek, one more thing to try, and sometimes those things are good and necessary. But sometimes everything possible becomes a burden that God never asked us to carry. A better question might be what is wise and loving now? Not what would I have chosen if I could rewrite the whole story or what would make everybody else comfortable or what would prove that I tried hard enough. Not any of those things. But what is wise and loving now? That question, it really did help me with my dad because the season, kept changing. What had been right at one point was not necessarily right later. The care that was helpful in one chapter had to be reconsidered in another, and I had to keep bringing my own tendency to push back to the Lord. That is not easy, but it is holy work. It is holy to tell the truth. It is holy to love someone with dignity when their body or mind is failing, and it is holy to choose comfort when comfort is what is needed It's also holy to let go of the illusion of control and trust God with the person

Hope Beyond A Specific Outcome

Rayna Neises 17:22

you love. I wanna be careful here because none of this means we stop hoping. Hope is central in who we are as believers, but Christian hope is not the same as insisting on a particular outcome. Our hope is not fragile because it's not built on circumstances turning out exactly like we think they should. Our hope is anchored in the character of God. He is good, and when the answer is yes, he's near. When the answer is wait, he's also near He's faithful when the answer is no, and he is present when there doesn't seem to be an answer at all. That is the kind of hope that holds us in caregiving. Not hype, not denial, not pretending that everything is fine. Real hope, the kind that can sit beside a hospital bed, sign difficult paperwork, ask painful questions, and still say, "God, I need you here." I think sometimes caregivers are afraid that accepting there is no fix means that they're giving up hope. But what if it actually means our hope is being moved to a stronger place? Instead of hoping in the perfect treatment, the perfect plan, the perfect outcome, or even our own ability to keep everything going, we begin to hope in God himself. That does not remove the grief. It does give us somewhere to place it. The Psalms are full of that kind of honest faith. They don't rush past the sorrow. They don't pretend that confusion is not real. They give us permission to bring our whole hearts before God. The questions, the frustrations, the sadness, the longing, and the trust that may feel very small some days. If your faith feels small right now, that doesn't mean it's absent. Sometimes faith in caregiving is not loud. It's not polished or even a big declaration. Sometimes it is simply the quiet choice to turn toward God one more time. It's in the whisper, "Help me." It's in the deep breath before a hard conversation. It's in the willingness to ask, "Lord, is it time for this care to look different?" It's in the humility to receive help and in the courage to stop pushing when pushing is no longer love. That is faithfulness too. Before

Reflection Questions And Next Steps

Rayna Neises 20:18

we close, I wanna call out three reflection questions for you. Again, these are not meant to overwhelm you but to help you sit with the Lord and consider where you are in your own caregiving season. Number one, where am I trying to fix something that may actually need to be faithfully walked through with God? Number two, is there an area where I need wisdom to know whether to keep pushing or allow the focus of care to change? Number three, what would it look like to receive God's grace for today instead of demanding for myself enough strength for the whole journey? Get off my toes, right? As you think about these questions, I hope you will be gentle with yourself. These are tender places. They're not solved in a moment and they're not always clear. But God is not impatient with you in the process. If you're in season where there is no clear fix, I want to remind you that you are not failing because you cannot change what is happening. You are not less faithful because the situation is still hard, and you are not alone as you try to discern what love looks like now. Sometimes caregiving asks us to do all that we can; and sometimes it asks us to recognize when all that we can do is no longer the same thing as what is best. Gosh, that takes courage, humility and a deep dependence on the Lord. God will meet you there. He will bring wisdom for the next decision, grace for today and enough light for the next step right in front of you. As you walk this road, you can live content, love well and care without regrets, not because you fixed everything but because you walked faithfully with Him. Thank you for joining me for this episode of A Season of Caring podcast. If this encouraged you, I would love for you to share it with another caregiver who may be wrestling with these same questions. And if you haven't already, subscribe and leave a review so more caregivers can find hope in their own season of caring. Until next time, remember you can live content, love well, and care without regrets. If you have financial, legal, or medical questions, be sure to consult your local professionals, and take heart in your season of caring