An Unsung Hero

We live in a screwed-up world full of ignorant, disgusting, hateful people. Racists, homophobes, religious fanatics and political nut-jobs dominate the news. Unspeakable violence and wars fueled by ignorance and hatred are displayed on our TV screens every day. We are also inundated with the latest exploits of the privileged-brainless Hollywood types who think all that matters is whether or not this dress "makes my ass look fat" on the red carpet. Honey, you got a fat ass-ain't no changin' that! Deal with it, and deal with being rich and famous. What a burden.

It is maddening. We see this crap every day and we accept it, but as hard as it is to believe, there are still good people on this planet. There are people who aren't caught up in themselves, people who don't despise everyone who is different than they are, people who genuinely care about others. Many of these people have no religious affiliation. In fact, some may even-dare I say it?-not believe in god! Yet these individuals engage in activities that better represent the teachings of Christ than the actions of many of those who call themselves Christians.

One of these individuals is my wife. I am constantly amazed at how selfless she is. She is a nurturer. She has the extraordinary ability (and need) to provide comfort to those who need it most. If you are able-bodied and strong; if you have the means to watch out for yourself, she has little time or sympathy for you. If, however, you are a child needing care or an older person no longer able to drive to the grocery store or no longer able to get up out of a chair without help, my wife is there for you. She is there for those suffering dementia, those who are disabled and those who need nothing more than a friend to talk to.

Across the hall from our condo is a little, 88-year-old widow we have known barely a year. Shortly after we moved in, this woman was diagnosed with cancer and, despite her admirable desire to do things for herself, she requires some care. There is little the doctors can do for this woman and it is likely she will not survive many more months. My wife has developed a close relationship with this woman and looks in on her often to make sure she is OK. She has taken her to chemotherapy, doctor's appointments and grocery shopping, but mostly, my wife has been a friend to a woman who knows she is playing out the final months of her life and is no doubt afraid of what lies ahead.

Additionally, my wife, despite two back surgeries, often babysits our grandchildren. The kids adore Grandma and expect her to pick them up and hold them, play with them, and have the same kind of energy they have. It is painful, but she gives them the attention and love both she and the grandkids require. She cares for these kids the same way she did for our children some thirty years ago when she had a strong back and the energy of a young mom. Whenever we babysit the kids together, I am exhausted and I wonder how my wife manages to do it on her own. She comes home and collapses, but laughs as she tells me stories about the day they all had together.

And when she isn't caring for our grandkids or our neighbor, my wife works for an organization that provides comfort for those in need. One of her clients is a woman a few years younger than she who wants nothing more than a friend to take her shopping. Another client resides in an assisted living complex suffering from dementia and displaying a roller coaster of emotions. She will be friendly and sweet one moment and ready to strangle my wife the next moment. But my wife is there for her, helping her eat and providing a little companionship a few hours a week.

If that isn't enough, my wife also takes care of me which she will tell you is no easy task. Without her, I would be relegated to eating cereal, wearing dirty clothes and never knowing where I left my damn keys. Her experiences with people suffering dementia have no doubt helped her deal with a demented person like me.

I have not been blessed with the same nurturing qualities as my wife nor the patience to deal with individuals who can't chew their food or blow their own noses. But seeing my wife be that kind of person has had an effect on me. I look in on the woman next door as well; I check to see if she needs anything; I take care of minor things like programming our phone number into her speed dial in case she needs us in an emergency. It doesn't come as naturally to me, but I do it because I have had a great teacher.

In a backwards society in which people are paid millions of dollars for doing nothing more than hitting a ball, singing a song or just looking good, my wife makes scarcely more than minimum wage to provide a little comfort to those in need. And she gives her time, energy and love to her family and to the dying woman next door for mere gratitude and the satisfaction of knowing in her heart that she is making a difference.

And because of that, she has made me a better person.