On this episode of Hope for the Caregiver, I talk about something that has taken me forty years to learn: I'm not chasing happiness anymore. I'm chasing healthiness.

Happiness depends on what's happening. Good lab report? I'm happy. Insurance approves something without a fight? That's practically a revival service. But caregiving doesn't offer steady circumstances. If my stability depends on things going well, I won't last long.

Joy is different. Joy is anchored. Joy rests in the unchanging character of God. I can be sorrowful and still rejoicing. I can sit in a hospital room and still be steady.

I share a real-life conversation with a mother struggling with her alcoholic son and explain how asking one simple question — "Is this healthy?" — can bring clarity when "right or wrong" only creates confusion.

I also talk about physical health, financial health, and spiritual health. I say it often because I have to hear it myself: I'm no good to Gracie if I'm fat, broke, and miserable. Healthy caregivers make better caregivers.

And I close with one of my father's favorite hymns, Lead On, O King Eternal — a reminder that caregiving is not about swords loud clashing, but about deeds of love and mercy.

If you're weary, discouraged, or just tired of trying to feel better in a life that may not improve, this episode is for you. You may not feel happy, but you can be healthier.

And you can be anchored.

In this special Valentine's Day episode of Hope for the Caregiver, I share what it means to carry love when the person you cherish can no longer carry it back in the same way. I talk about relaunching our local caregiver support group after a long pause, about sitting alone in an empty room before anyone showed up, and why caregivers need a place where they are understood. I reflect on decorating Gracie's hospital bed through one holiday after another, and why sometimes it's okay to buy your own Valentine's card as a tribute to a love that is still very real. I also address the shallow theology that collapses under the weight of suffering and remind fellow caregivers that our hope must be anchored in Scripture, not sentiment. I close by singing "I Will Sing of My Redeemer," because even when our hearts are breaking, we can still sing — and that song carries us.

I've spent much of my life in hospitals and ICUs, standing beside suffering that doesn't resolve and prayers that don't wrap up neatly. After a while, explanations stop helping.

In this episode, I reflect on what has steadied me as a caregiver when nothing can be fixed. I talk about walking into yet another surgery knowing exactly how hard it will be, about learning what real comfort sounds like when fear is louder than reason, and about why old hymns and familiar Scripture matter more than new words in those moments.

This is not about solutions or spiritual shortcuts. It's a reflection from the long middle, for caregivers who have learned that hope doesn't always arrive with answers, but it does arrive with company.