The Cost of Caregiving: A Quiet Gethsemane

Never married.

Only child.

Single caregiver for 12 years.

When I saw the writing on the wall, I was petrified, mystified, and just plain traumatized.I loved my mom, but I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around the human cost to me.

All of this was unfolding just as I was approaching what I believed would be the prime of my life—with dreams taking shape and the world at my feet.

I prayed soooo hard, “Lord, can this cup pass for both of us?”

Caring for my mom was not heroic. It was congruent.

Yes, I heard from God clearly—but I also listened to the deepest part of who I was.I honored that first, and it was costlier than I ever imagined.

We rarely hear in-depth discussion about the spiritual and emotional cost of giving care. It is hard for society to sit with prolonged suffering without trying to soften the edges with a “bright side,” a distraction, or a heroic narrative that feels easier to digest.

But the truth is this:At the deepest levels, we have saturated the caregiving space with hero language—often because it is too painful to face the raw, human reality.

I never felt like a hero at any point—before, during, or after.

Twelve years always felt sacrificial and meaningful, but none of it cancelled out the suffering.The human experience teaches us that two opposing things can be true at the same time.

Theologically, when we speak of resurrection without spending intentional time with Christ in Gethsemane—alongside the Old and New Testament patterns of suffering—we create an incomplete packaging of the Christian journey.

As a minister, chaplain, counselor, and former family caregiver, I know there are caregivers out there deeply connecting to this truth.

There is often profound spiritual conflict—feeling abandoned while also finding meaning within the pain, both happening simultaneously.

The cultural antidote has been to saturate caregivers with heroism language…while more caregivers than we realize are living something far closer to Gethsemane:

A dying to time, because the journey is so uncertain.A dying to dreams.A dying to relationships, plans in motion, joys, travel, and adventure.

Hero language feels safer than acknowledging pain.

Naming suffering requires emotional proximity, empathy, and personal discomfort.Referring to someone as a “hero” or praising their goodness and capacity can easily become an unintentional form of bypassing intimacy with a quick, socially acceptable response.

This is documented in:

• Empathy avoidance research (Batson et al., 1997)

• Defense mechanisms (projection, idealization)

• Moral distancing in caregiving (Jamison & Virzi, 2019)

People use heroism language to stay emotionally distant from the truth of suffering.

Yet even in the midst of loss, deep, abiding things are often being formed—things that reshape the heart and identity of the caregiver…things that renovate, restore, and transform from the innermost places:values, priorities, perspective.

In my own exchange, the same God who said,“Trust Me. Remain true to your character,”never left me.

I sought Him as my absolute lifeline—and He did not forsake me, even in deep moments of despair.

Coming Soon

Qavah Prayer Gathering for Family Caregivers

New Orleans • Presented by Soulfull Ministries (Heart to Soul Ministry®)

If you are a family caregiver, were a family caregiver, or sense you may become one…

This gathering is for you.

A sacred, reflective space where caregivers can receivea fresh breath of heaven here on earth—a kind of psycho-spiritual strengthening for the whole person.

More details and registration link coming shortly www.thehearttosoul.com