My Gethsemane

My Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane has become a powerful metaphor for my caregiving journey.

In the garden, Jesus faced the weight of what lay ahead. He was overwhelmed with sorrow, burdened by the knowledge of what was coming, and deeply alone. His closest companions were nearby, yet they could not fully share the burden He carried.

As I care for my mother through the progression of her progressive degenerative disease, I often find myself in my own Gethsemane.

There is loneliness in watching someone you love slowly slip away. There is sorrow in witnessing the decline of a mind and body that once seemed so strong. There is grief in anticipating losses that have not yet come.

Some days, I wish I could change the outcome. I wish I could stop the disease, restore her memories, or spare her suffering. Yet caregiving continually brings me back to a deeper truth: some journeys cannot be controlled, only carried.

Gethsemane was ultimately a place of surrender.

Jesus surrendered to the task before Him, trusting God even when the path was painful. In much the same way, I am learning to surrender my need to fix, rescue, or control what is happening. My calling is not to cure my mother. My calling is to love her, care for her, and walk beside her through this sacred season.

Surrender is not weakness. It is laying down the illusion of control and embracing the responsibility that has been entrusted to me.

And for all the heartache this journey brings, I remain profoundly grateful.

Grateful that I have this time with my mother.

Grateful that I can repay a lifetime of love with my presence and care.

Grateful that God chose me for this sacred assignment.

To care for my mother during the final chapter of her life is not simply a duty—it is one of the greatest honors I will ever know.