What Caregiving Taught Me About Presence
- Project 4031
- 7 days ago
- 7 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
Project 4031 | Blog By Angela F.
Caregiving changes your pace—and your perspective.
What once felt important fades, and the small, everyday moments begin to matter most. It’s not an easy role, but it’s a meaningful one—filled with quiet acts of love, strength, and presence.
In this story, Project 4031 Volunteer and Daughter of a Project 4031 patient, Angela, reflects on caring for her mother in her final season of life, and how that experience reshaped the way she lives today. Her words are a reminder to slow down, hold on to what matters, and live right where your hands and feet are.
Q: We see the heart you put into Project 4031 every Thursday, but what fills your cup when you aren’t here? Is there a hobby you’re passionate about or a book you’ve read a dozen times that most people don’t know about?
When I have a day filled with choice, I usually find myself doing the same few things that are sure to fill my cup. I enjoy cooking and baking. An apron, some good music, a recipe, and the willingness to try. This is a new joy, and as much a surprise to me as it is anyone who’s ever known me. I would say most of my life I was more of a “preparer” of meals, as in opening and heating up. But something new arose in me the last couple of years. I enjoy learning how to make new things, especially from all my mother’s
cookbooks. Wow. She was the Queen of the Kitchen. I feel like her legacy apprentice today every time I challenge myself to try something new.
I keep saying I’m going to get into gardening one day, but I haven’t made good on this yet. Just a bunch of house plants to water at the moment. Fun fact: My houseplants have names (with name tags); they are named after different Vitas hospice staff members that cared for my mother and I during that season. Everyone from her nurse and aide to our chaplains and social worker have a permeant place in my heart, and a special place in my home to be remembered, by way of a houseplant.
I really enjoy crafting, usually making unique gifts for friends and family. I recently found some antique hymnals. The old, timeworn pages make great gifts when framed. I also like to make homemade cards, like we did as kids, same heart, just better crafting supplies and more wisdom and gratitude.
A good book, in a comfy chair on a quiet day, is always tempting. My favorite novel is a timeless classic, To Kill a Mockingbird. I’ve read it countless times. Mom and I bonded over this book and the film adaptation. Decade after decade, both hold up. Fun fact: My 16 year old cat is named “Scout Finch” and my first labradoodle was named “Harper Lee,” after the central character and the author.
I read everyday. Today, however, I’ve traded fiction for fact. You’ll find me in my Bible or a book related to my growing relationship with God and the beautiful and transformative work He’s doing in my life. Nothing fills my cup like His Word and a greater dependency on Him.
Q: You gave so much of yourself to your mom, Where does that deep well of strength come from?
“That deep well of strength . . .”
Strong mothers raise strong daughters. This will take some explaining.
I had a good model, someone I deeply loved and admired and respected. All my life, my mom gave so much of herself to me. And it didn’t look like “work”; it didn’t look like “duty”; it looked like love. Someone pouring real and honest, unconditional and sacrificial love into you, all the time, not just sometimes, you notice it, you mark it — because it’s different. It stands out among what passes for love in many cases. It’s the kind of love that requires strength. It’s not weak, it’s not fragile, it doesn’t change with the seasons or the circumstances, and it can’t be performed. I saw strength in the way she loved and served others, strength in the way she handled life’s challenges, strength in the way she refused to be overcome, but overcome!
Strong mothers raise strong daughters, and I am the fruit of her labor. Today, more than ever, I
understand the source of her strength, that deep well of strength she drew from. I go to that same well every morning. We only need strength one day at a time, and Thank God, His supply is endless, and His mercies are new every morning.
Q: What is one thing you learned while caring for your mom that you now carry with you every day?
Perspective. I learned that my perspective shapes everything from what kind of day I’m going to have, to how well I show up for others - and myself.
In learning to manage my perspective more closely, I learned to live in today. I learned to slow down. I learned that great joy can be found in small moments and in simple things, today. When I stay right here, where my hands and feet are, it helps me focus on gratitude - right here, right now. I think my view of life was much more complicated than it needed to be. Chasing this and that, pursuing happiness as if it’s something hidden to be found, something off in the distance to be obtained. In my busy and distracted life, pre-caregiver, I think I existed in the present, survived in the present, and I failed, much of the time, to see God’s goodness and grace all over my life. No matter the season of life or my current circumstances, happiness isn’t something “hiding” from me, and I don’t have to look for a reason to be grateful. It was my perspective that needed an overhaul.
Life, as I knew it, quite literally paused when I became a full-time caregiver for my mother. And it was in the pause that I learned a beautiful lesson that guides me still. There’s nothing to be in pursuit of, to maybe one day obtain if I ____ or when I _____. I can see so clearly now what I was allowing to pass me by - in my distracted busyness and my silent longing. Slow down, be still, and give thanks to the Lord for all He’s brought me through, and where He’s brought me to. I have today, and today is where I live, gratefully.
Q: Most people might step back after losing a parent, but you stepped up—both for your dad and as a volunteer for us. What is it about "showing up" for others that heals your own heart?
I would say that “others over self” has always been at the core of who I am, and it’s something I give my mother credit for modeling so well. I admired the way she lived and loved and served, and I believe that’s why it comes so naturally to me. And it is healing.
I miss her more than words can express. It feels like part of me is missing. The physical separation, no more experiences here with her, no more cherished moments or special occasions to share together here. All of this is real and true and difficult. I didn’t rush grief. I didn’t ignore it. I sat in it. I felt every ounce of it. I even attended a very helpful “Grief Share” group at church. But, ultimately, I know who she raised me to be, and it would break her heart if I didn’t focus on healing mine. So I had to get back to who I am, beyond my grief; that is what honors my mom’s life and simultaneously heals my heart.
Volunteering for Project 4031 has brought so much joy and healing to my heart. Truly. I’m so blessed to help serve these families in some small way. What better way to bring healing and joy back to my heart? I could sit it my own grief and prolong it indefinitely, or I could find ways to serve and support others in their own difficult season —of which I am very personally familiar. God doesn’t waste our pain. He uses it. And that’s exactly what He’s doing for me when I show up for others.
Q: We know caregiving isn’t just the big medical stuff—it’s the morning coffee, the old stories, and the handholding. What is your favorite "small moment" with your dad right now?
I love bringing my dad along with me when I do my “Wings” deliveries for Project 4031. He’s 85, he’s in good health, he’s still got all his “original parts,” knees and all; I tease him. He’s blessed. I enjoy these small moments with him. It’s just the two of us, no distractions, as we drive around Ft. Worth. I use this time to ask him all kinds of things I never took the time to ask before now. He’s still got a pretty good memory for an old guy. (The teasing, it’s our primary language :). It’s like one long game of “20 Questions” with your aging parent. I’ve learned all about his early life, his first car, his first job, and his first crush. It’s sweet. I can already see how I’ll treasure this time with him and these small moments later.
Q: What would you say to the person who feels like they’re failing because they’re tired?
You are not failing. Not today, not tomorrow, period. What you are doing right now isn’t for the weak; it’s for the strong and that’s why you’ve been called to it. You are tired. Yes. And that’s okay. There may be times when you feel lonely or isolated. And that’s okay, too. Some days you may feel a lack of gratitude for all that you’re enduring and sacrificing. Valid. I speak from my own experience. We could keep adding to this list, but what good will that reinforce? The important thing to remember is that this is temporary. “You will never pass this way again.” (That is something wise my older sister would say to me during our Mom’s hospice season when she knew I needed to be reminded.) You have today. You have today with your loved one. And all you can do, all anyone can do, is do the best you can — today. If God has called you to this, if you currently find yourself in the role of caregiver—He will equip you for it! He doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called. You only need strength one day at time. Live in today. Live for today. You can do this. He’s got you!
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will
strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.”
(Isaiah 41:10)
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