I consider myself a “reluctant caregiver.”

Let me explain.

If I were God and I was looking for someone to be “the voice for caregivers” as I’ve weirdly become, I would not pick Jess Ronne.

I’m not that woman who loves everybody’s children.

I’m not that woman who oooo’s over every newborn baby.

I’m not even that woman who’s all that fond of my own offspring at times!

I’m not the mom who runs to bandage up boo boos (that’s the dad in our house) or hurries to urgent care with every fall.

I don’t dole out meds unless absolutely necessary or cuddle with sick kids all day on the couch.

I’m more of a “here’s your movie & bucket. I’ll check on you, ok?” kind of mom.

I would be a horrible nurse.

I don’t volunteer for nursery or Sunday school.

Nor do I cry with sappy movies - except Benjamin Button - every.single.time.

And I don’t do words without deeds -

Like, “I’ll be praying for y’all” with no follow through.

Not my cup of tea.

I am the furthest thing from a Karen. I do not give two rips about how you raise your kids, but I sure do give a rip that you also mind your own business when it comes to how I raise mine

I’m the buck up buttercup girl!
Dry your tears!
And just keep livin!

So odd, this caregiver space I find myself in.

But in his gracious wisdom, the Lord chose me to not only be a caregiver to my dying husband but also to eight children and a son who will require care for the rest of his life.

A Moses situation, for sure.

Although, in my defense, I didn’t require a burning bush before I got to work.

Again, I’m not sure why he thought I’d be an ideal candidate for this role, maybe because I was willing? Perhaps because I obeyed & took baby steps forward in faith? Maybe because I’ve surrendered every step to his perfect & holy will?

I really don’t know, but here I am trying to be a voice in the wilderness, trying to obtain support for families & trying to make a tiny bit of a difference in the lives of special needs caregivers.

What I do know is that being a caregiver has been the most life changing experience of my life.

It has molded & shaped & broken me in a million ways.

It has literally burned away any pride that threatened to stand in the way.

It has taught me that words without deeds are meaningless.

It has taught me grace & compassion & mercy in spades.

I’m a doer, a fixer, a mover, & a shaker not a dweller, a moper, or a woe is me-er.

There’s a problem?

Let’s fix it, by golly!

Maybe that’s why the Almighty saw fit to tag me -

“Duck, duck, goose!”

And so I’ll continue to waddle my way through this strange terrain of caregiver advocacy. I’ll continue to raise my voice & use my platform. I’ll continue to buck when he calls me to speak, “Not me Lord! Choose my brother!” I’ll continue to drop to my knees & humbly ask, “What’s next?” & I’ll move forward in faithful obedience & lest the ego ever get the best of me, I’ll continue to rise, every day, & serve my son who will require this of me until the day I die.