The Task Has Changed

I picked up a shovel, got the wheelbarrow with two wheels that gives balance to very heavy loads, and attacked the topsoil pile in my driveway yesterday. Two piles have sat side-by-side through the winter…one of topsoil, the other of mulch. Winter caught me by surprise when it arrived early in our area and the piles were not fully spread around the yard. So a blue tarp covered the piles, the neighbors did not complain, and I waited until the emergence of spring temperatures. Yesterday, it was time to begin “the task.”

Linda wanted to help. She always wants to help. And she loves to be with me, inside or outside. So I helped her get a small yard cart and a shovel so she could be working on her task while I focused on the topsoil. I helped her get a little topsoil into her cart and find the freshly planted flowers around the mailbox that could use a bit of supplemental soil. This worked fine while I filled a couple of wheelbarrow loads and moved them to the backyard.

"Now what?" she asked. The small task was over. So I tried to explain to Linda that she could get some mulch and use it to cover the topsoil and blanket the area around the mailbox and four small plants. At this point I knew that “the task” had changed. Moving large amounts of topsoil had been my chosen task. But now moving a thought through an Alzheimer’s brain became a more complex mission. Here is how it went…

“Take your cart to the other side of the mulch pile.”
“Do I go this way or go around?”
“Just go between the two piles…that is fine.”
“Now, move that rock off the blue plastic so you can pull the tarp back away from the mulch.”
“That is good. Now fold the tarp back.”
“This tarp or that one?”
“That one in front of you. You want to be able to see the mulch and get some of it for your cart. . . That is good.”
“Now use your shovel to pick up some mulch and put it into your cart. It is light weight so it will be easy.”
“That is good, now one more shovel load. Now just one more. That is just right.”
“Now take the cart to the flowers and put the mulch around the flowers and over the topsoil you just spread.”
“You want me to put it in all the flower beds?”
“No just the one spot where you planted the new flowers.”
“Where is that?”
“It is next to the mailbox, next to the street. There are newly planted flowers there.”

As I leaned on my shovel, aching back from lifting the heavy loads, I wondered, “Is this a diversion from the task at hand?”

Now I realize it was not a diversion. It is the mission…the task…and it is a merging of task and relationship into one. Helping Linda be a fellow worker with me in the yard is not about the task. It is about the relationship we have and about her sense of well-being. Together we moved some topsoil and a little mulch. The neighbors will have to be patient a little longer (and they are) before these blue-tarp piles are erased from the driveway. But the task has morphed into something new. It is just another means of giving care.

Later, in the early evening, Linda said, “It has been a wonderful day.” She didn’t remember what had made it wonderful. The soil and mulch experience had slipped from the reach of her memory…but the sense of “wonder” in the day remained…no longer linked to a task…just floating there in a way that connected the two of us.

A memory surfaced for me of a time when my task orientation got in the way of another relationship. We were living in Nairobi and my work was focused on rebel zones of southern Sudan. It was early morning at the office when a Sudanese friend came into the office. I needed to talk with him, so I immediately launched into asking him about the task that was on my mind. He patiently listened, then looked at me in silence and smiled at me. Then he asked, “How is your family?”

Like an arrow, his non-sequitur question pierced my understanding. I was task oriented in a relational world in Africa. No African would greet a person in a new day with a task related question. First the relationships must be renewed and re-established before any tasks can be properly addressed! I had violated the most basic of “simple rules” of life in this context.

I called my friend by name, and said, “Please forgive me. Today I am just being a crazy American. Can I please start over. Tell me of your family…are you doing well?” In his graciousness, he smiled, forgave without words, and we slipped into the proper conversation of renewing the relationships. A few minutes later, with our human engines warm and our relationships intact, the task was addressed. I don’t remember what the task was…but I do remember the relationship.

Now I am learning that it is not an either task or relationship issue. But the task can be the relationship and the relationship can be the task. This is not an easy transformation for me…but it is vital on the journey of care-giving. One of the tasks is to transform me into a 24/7 relational being who also has some tasks to accomplish. The major cross-cultural challenge in my life is the continuous crossing of boundaries between my world of work that is strongly task-oriented and my world of care-giving that is continuously relational.

What a task! What a relationship!