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Charisse Tierney reflects on her experience as she seeks peace while caring for her aging parents and large family.  


They have a matching set of recliners. They are often asleep in them when I arrive for a visit. I walk into their assisted living apartment quietly, hesitant to disturb them.

Their apartment feels a bit more like their home with each passing month. I look around and my gaze rests in turns on my grandmother’s china hutch, the framed photos of my dad’s boyhood farmhouse, and the plaid couch that used to sit in their sunroom. I am filled with that all-too-familiar rush of emotion as I look at the things that used to comfortably reside in my childhood home. Nostalgia, acceptance, and grief all tumble into each other as they take turns vying for my attention. Memories of sitting on the couch with each of my babies and pulling out china from the hutch for holiday meals tug at my heart.

But, as always, I don’t have time to sink too far into the past. My parents sense my presence and groggily greet me. The present seems to always be filled with needs that can’t wait for emotions to be entertained.

 

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Seeing Our Parents Age Can Steal Our Peace

The tone of our visits varies. Sometimes they are pleasant, almost invigorating, as I am drawn into conversation with them that reminds me of how they used to be. Sometimes the visits are more draining. Conversation is punctuated by my mom’s repetitive questions. My dad’s frustrations with his failing eyesight surface. I am distracted by my dad’s shaking hands and trembling jaw. Dementia, Parkinson’s, and old age steal my peace.

And then our visit has to come to an end. Either because I need to take one of my own children to an appointment, or get back to homeschooling my kids, or go to work to help support my family, or simply return to our loud, busy, full house to help manage meals, bedtime, and care for my handicapped sister.

 

Caregiving Reveals Our Limitations … and Where Real Peace Is Found

With seven kids, two aging parents, and a handicapped sister who requires round-the-clock supervision, my husband and I both feel constantly stretched to the max. We keep a giant calendar on the wall, we make lists, we divide responsibilities of transportation to appointments, paperwork and finances, and physical care. We have created some systems and settled into some routines.

But I’ve had to accept my limitations. I’ve had to admit that I can’t do it all — or even half of it. Sometimes bills are paid late, or we forget to bring my parents something they’ve asked for. And it’s impossible to do all the things I wish I could for my parents. I wish I could visit them more often, take them to more of the symphony concerts they enjoy, and bring them home-cooked meals more often.

I wish I could restore my dad’s sight and help my mom remember. Sometimes I wish, just for a moment, that I could see them younger and stronger again, so that I could lean into their love the way I used to as a child.

But, instead of longing to fulfill wishes over what once was, I find myself seeking strength in the hope of what is to come.

Each day, I ask for God’s peace amidst the to-do lists that won’t get finished and the messes that refuse to stay cleaned up. I lean into God as my Father and Mary as my Mother.

And I find a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that the chaos is actually God’s abundant love and mercy in disguise. It is God’s way of growing me, and pruning me, and abiding with me as He eagerly waits to fulfill all of my wishes in ways they never could be while here on earth.

It’s in the wishing and the waiting; the struggling and the suffering that we find Him … and gratitude for the people He knew we needed to bring us home to Him.

 

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How do you find peace in the middle of a busy, caregiving season of life?

Do you have any practical tips to share for balancing care for aging parents and a large family?

 

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Copyright 2026 Charisse Tierney
Images: Canva