Picnics are the best time to enjoy the art of the sandwich. But when life is not a picnic... you become the sandwich. Or you become the sandwich when you are in the position of caring for young children while assisting elderly or frail or ill parents. The sandwich of care-giving the generation older than you while also care-giving for the generation younger than you.
Sometime last week the awareness came on me like Miracle Whip slapped onto some whole wheat bread- "I am officially in the sandwich." I was not surprised... just feeling stupid that I had not yet realized this sooner. I guess I thought the sandwich only happened with you got older not at forty-one years old.
My daughter is in grade school (bread side #1). My mother in law is fighting brain cancer and very ill (bread side #2); my mother is leaving full time work to go on permanent disability leave because of her health (bread side #3); and my father is becoming more and more limited in his physical mobility [and he'll have more needs very, very soon] (bread side #4).
Maybe this isn't just a regular sandwich, but an ol' fashioned Dagwood sandwich. Remember those from the cartoons pages?!?! That had bread layer then more good stuff, then bread again and more good stuff.
I am in a layered sandwich.
No wonder my life is crowded and feels heavy at times.
But I am hoping and praying that if the sandwich is where I am- then God will meet me in it. God's better at navigating through families and layers of generations than anyone else I know.
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