Your frustration with the woman who watches over your mother burns within you as a fire, but take care that this fire does not consume your soul more than her faults trouble your outward peace. You see her idleness, her sneaking ways, her arrogance, and you are indignant. Yet consider: when the servants in the vineyard owed fruit and gave none, they should have entreated, not grown angry. They filled their hands with blood. So now, when you feel that righteous anger rising, turn it into prayer rather than accusation. You cannot find a cheaper helper; perhaps God has permitted this so that you might learn to bear with infirmities and show the mercy you yourself have received from Christ, who bore with far worse from us.
Do not be quick to judge her character. Is it not written, “Give nothing, and do not accuse the man”? How many poor souls who seem to us lazy are crushed by hidden afflictions, illnesses, or despair we cannot see? Perhaps this woman carries her own secret grief. I do not excuse her faults, but I urge you to examine her with the same exactness you would want for your own soul on that dreadful day of judgment. If you must correct her, do it with gentleness, knowing that a harsh word stirs up strife, while a soft answer turns away wrath.
But look beyond these daily annoyances. Your mother is losing her earthly mind and strength, yet her soul remains precious to God. Do not let the care of her body become a snare that drags your spirit into perpetual agitation. The mountains and deserts offer peace to those who flee the tumults of the world; you cannot flee, but you can retire in your heart to that quiet place where Christ speaks. In the midst of tending her, steal moments to cry out for grace, for of His fullness we have all received grace upon grace. That grace is sufficient for your weariness, for your irritation, for the deep sorrow of watching your mother decline after losing her husband.
You mourn her many sicknesses and her loneliness. This grief is right, but let it be a grief that weeps for the world’s brokenness and longs for the healing of the age to come. Do not let it sour into a constant complaint against the present. Affliction in this short life, if endured with thanksgiving, yields a harvest of eternal rest. When the caretaker provokes you, remember that these little trials are a momentary light affliction compared to the glory that will be revealed. Offer them to God as a sacrifice of patience, and He will not despise it.
Finally, consider your mother’s true need: not merely a faultless servant, but the hope of the resurrection. Speak to her of that hope. Sing psalms by her bed. Pray with her, even if her mind wanders. The fullness of the times arrived when all seemed lost, and Christ came to rescue those perishing. He is with you in this narrow place. Do not be remiss in the short time you have with her, lest you groan later with regret. Let your care for her soul outstrip your concern for a perfectly run household. The woman may remain lazy, but you can grow in the fire of love, and that fire Christ came to kindle on earth.
