New Morning Mercies in the Exhaustion of Caregiving

In the recent loss of her father, Lyli Dunbar recalls the sleep deprivation that came from taking care of her aging Papi. Today, Lyli shares about new morning mercies in the exhaustion of caregiving.

---

The phone rang at 10:30 PM as I was brushing my teeth for bed. I glanced at the screen, and my gut immediately knew trouble was on the line. “Hi, Mom, what’s wrong?”

A long sigh escaped as she launched into her explanation. “They called from the rehab to ask me to come back down. Your dad is trying to get out of bed and says he wants to go home.” My aging father was refusing to take his medication and keeping all of us from needed sleep.

Dad was battling pneumonia, and the doctor had warned us that the lung infection might cause delirium. “I’m coming. Don’t worry.”

My mom had started to feel unsafe driving at night, so I was now serving as her appointed chauffeur. I thought about all the years she’d spent driving me to piano classes and youth group socials, and my tired body moved toward the minivan and climbed in with determination. My mama had sat beside me countless times and consoled me through heartbreak. I’d sleep tomorrow.

Tonight, God had holy work for me to do. This new caregiving ministry might just wreck me emotionally, but I knew it was now my turn to wipe my Mama’s tears away.

I reached for the pair of jeans I’d just taken off and tossed at the foot of the bed. As I hastily dressed, I groaned a prayer for God’s divine intervention.

Jesus, please help.

I had a good ugly cry in my Toyota on the 45 minute drive down to Miami. I cried out to God and asked Him to restore my father’s clarity, calm him down, and bring rest to three weary souls. Lord, have mercy. Please make a way where there seems to be no way.

I’d lost a lot of sleep over the last few weeks. Grief had been a constant companion, and I lay in bed for hours praying. No one warns you how exhausted you become when you are living through the hardest season of your life. As I drove down the highway, I turned on some music and started singing in hopes of staying awake. The words washed over my weary spirit, and I cried as I raised a hallelujah in the front seat.

The clock read 11:48 PM as I pulled into my parent’s driveway. Mom struggled with her seatbelt, so I reached over and clicked her in securely. Then, I grabbed her hand and whispered a one-sentence request in desperation: “Father God, please let dad take the medication before we getthere and fall asleep peacefully. Amen.”

Mom squeezed my fingers and whispered “amen” in agreement. We drove in silence and hoped for a miracle.

I pulled into an empty parking lot and noted the clock now ticked ten minutes past midnight. We linked arms as we walked up the sidewalk and braved ourselves for the battle ahead inside the double doors. When I pushed the entrance call button, I reminded myself God’s mercies are new every morning.

The night nurse stood in the hallway waiting for us. “He just fell asleep.”

“Did he take the medication?” Mom asked.

“Yes. finally,” she explained. I peeked in the room and witnessed my dad’s chest rising and falling as he breathed in peaceful slumber.

The tears flowed again, but this time for a totally different reason. I didn’t have to wrestle. My Abba Father had simply taken care of what my heavy heart could not handle.

Here’s a promise that comforted me on those long sleepless nights: “When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:17-18, ESV)

When I lay awake wrestling with my sadness, I reminded myself of these truths:

• In my grief, I can cry to the Lord for help. He’s Almighty God. I’m not strong enough without Him.
• I can surrender all my troubles to my Defender and stop striving. Only He can rescue me and give me rest.
• The Lord will mend my heart if I surrender every shattered dream to Him and trust Him to restore.

That night, mom and I had prayed a simple prayer and our Almighty God had clearly responded. Rest had come and we didn’t have to figure out how to make it happen.

When I finally laid my head down on my pillow that evening, I thanked God for sweet sleep and His inexplicable peace even on exhausting nights.