I’m coming to terms with totally new definitions for success

Confronted by news about achievers—high-paid athletes and movie stars, ultra-wealthy executives, bestselling authors, and the guy next door who just received a promotion—we may look at ourselves and wonder, What happened to me?

In midlife, many consider the contrast between their achievements and their earlier dreams and think, Why have I failed when so many others my age are achieving so much?

At retirement, some look back on a lifetime of only average accomplishments and wish they had one more chance to experience success.

And for too many Americans, according to one report, “Success . . . is usually associated with financial worth, material wealth, social status, fame, and education.” Not only do Americans “worship success,” according to this paper, but “they are also haunted by failure.” For people all around us, the way to fight this fear of failure is to work—harder, longer, more efficiently. “Work in American culture is viewed as one of the most important measures of success.”

 The caregiver’s work

This phenomenon is worth studying by any thoughtful leader—and every driven worker. But it seems to me it has special significance for the caregiver.

How do I feel about myself when my day is spent helping someone simply survive? Between loads of laundry, daily dirty dishes, and medicine carefully dispensed in the proper doses and at the right time, what does the caregiver think he’s really achieved?

Each of the common standards for success is compromised or neglected as the caregiver gives himself to his tasks.

• Financial worth and material wealth are threatened by mounting expenses.

• Social status disappears as the couple retreats from fun with friends.

• Fame is forgotten. Whatever reputation the caregiver had in his former world is replaced by the accomplishments of a new generation of doers.

• Education little matters when one’s main activities include cleaning toilets, monitoring daily hygiene, and submerging oneself in household duties.

A Facebook caregiver friend commented not long ago, “It’s exhausting to deal with the same situations on repeat every day.” And in that exhaustion, the niggling doubts can arise: What’s this all worth? How does this matter? Why has my life come to this?

The caregiver matters

Lest this sound too dark, let me hasten to say, I’m not writing this from a valley of despair. I’m coming to terms with the worth of my new assignment as I’ve realized much that matters happens behind closed doors.

The caregiver gets no applause for washing soiled underwear, cleaning up spilled food, choosing outfits, pestering doctors and druggists, searching the internet for answers, or recruiting helpers to lighten the load. But all of this is vital to the person cared for, even (especially!) when they don’t realize it. And so, it matters—maybe as much as anything else the caregiver has achieved in a lifetime of accomplishment.

And we caregivers are not alone. We walk a path similar to that of the mother of preschoolers, the father of teenagers, the midlevel manager, or the production line worker. Daily decisions keep chaos at bay. Daily interactions nurture the self-worth or competencies of those nearby. When we do the next right thing for the benefit of the others in our lives, we are achieving success, even when no one knows or notices.  

We are achieving success, even when no one knows or notices.  

A caregiver’s example

The Christian has abundant resources to understand this. The life of Henri Nouwen is one of the best illustrations. The Catholic priest and scholar left a career teaching at Harvard Divinity School to move to L’Arche Daybreak, a community in Canada for those with severe learning disabilities. He lived there for more than a decade, until his death in 1996.

In a 1994 interview with Christianity Today, he said this:

The question is not “How many people did I bring to Jesus?” but “How faithful has your life with Jesus been?” Jesus was often not very successful, either. The question becomes “Can I live a life of faith in the world and trust that it will bear fruit even when it has not many successes?” . . .

The evangelical movement has become just a bit victimized by a success-oriented culture, wanting the church—like the corporation—to be successful. On that level, the mystical tradition of communion with Christ is important. “I am the vine, you are the branches. If you remain connected with me, then you will bear fruit.” The fruit is not success.

The caregiver’s worth

He came to terms with the worth of his work in God’s eyes as he ministered to the residents of Daybreak. “These broken, wounded, and completely unpretentious people forced me to let go of my relevant self,” he said, “the self that can do things, show things, prove things, build things—and forced me to reclaim that unadorned self in which I’m completely vulnerable, open to receive and give love regardless of any accomplishments.”

I’ll confess I’m not there yet. I am privately proud of praise from readers of this blog or visitors to my garden. I seek significance by accepting freelance assignments that take more time than I should give. I struggle to be satisfied by sitting quietly at the end of the day and saying to God, “I served her the best I can in order to honor and imitate your love for me.”

It’s a journey. The one choice I can make each day is just to keep taking the next right steps.

Photos by Andreas Klassen and Frederik Löwer at Unsplash