Here is another club I didn’t even know I was a member of.
The caregiver club.
I received a text wishing me a happy Caregiver Month and thanking me for being a great caregiver to Matthew. It caught me off guard. I had never really thought of myself that way.
I was his dad. In my mind, that was what dads do.
When I heard the word “caregiver,” I thought about those final couple of weeks of Matthew’s life, when his needs changed and caring for him became much more physical and immediate. But the person who sent that text wasn’t talking about just those last weeks. They were talking about the entire 18 months.
That made me stop and think. What makes someone a caregiver? When did I become one? And how many people are doing this every day without ever giving themselves that title?
Naturally, those questions sent me in two directions: to the Bible and to Google.
I learned that November is National Family Caregivers Month, a time to recognize the people who care for family members and friends with health needs and to bring attention to the support those caregivers need themselves. Caregiver Action Network leads the national observance.
Then I came across a number that surprised me. According to the 2025 Caregiving in the U.S. report from AARP and the National Alliance for Caregiving, approximately 63 million American adults had provided care for an adult or child with a medical condition or disability during the previous year. Nearly one in four adults.
Sixty-three million. How many of them, like me, simply think, “That’s my son. That’s my spouse. That’s my mom. Of course I’m going to be there”?
I began to see that caregiving can look very different from one family to another. It can mean helping someone get dressed or managing medications. It can also mean arranging appointments, listening during a difficult conversation, asking questions, providing transportation, or helping someone navigate decisions they never imagined having to make.
Looking back, I understand what that person meant. We didn’t suddenly become caregivers during Matthew’s final weeks. Caring for him had been woven into our lives throughout those 18 months.
Medical Concierge
Like I’ve said several times, I never really saw myself as a caregiver. I thought of myself more as Matthew’s medical concierge.
Matt had five different apps for five different hospitals. Because, you know, having them all synced together would have made entirely too much sense.
My job was to keep up with all of them. Make sure the portals were correct, test results were uploaded, appointments were coordinated, and messages from doctors and nurses were answered. Every hospital had its own system, and somehow we were supposed to keep the whole picture together.
Honestly, I was pretty good at it.
Apparently, I was so good that I’ve already picked up two new clients. It’s a job you never really apply for. You just become the person everyone turns to when they can’t find a test result, figure out a portal, or remember which app goes with which doctor.
Looking back, I realize that was caregiving, too. Helping Matthew meant handling some of that confusion so he could spend more time being Matthew.
So, if you need help navigating the wonderful world of medical apps, I’m your guy.
For a fee, of course. Apparently, my medical concierge business is growing.
One thing Jennifer and I heard consistently was, “Be sure you’re taking care of yourselves.” Get some rest. Take a break. You have to take care of yourselves so you can take care of Matthew.
Everyone who said those things meant well. We knew that. But I want to explain what that advice can feel like from inside the battle.
When your son has brain cancer, your mind doesn’t easily shift to planning something for yourself. You’re living from MRI to MRI. Every scan carries questions about whether treatment is working, what comes next, and how much time you might have together. You can barely process one set of answers before you begin worrying about the next.
It wasn’t that an MRI could tell us exactly how long Matthew had. It was that our lives felt suspended between those appointments. Planning beyond the next scan could feel almost impossible.
So when someone said, “Do something for yourself,” my mind wasn’t going to a spa day or a vacation. My mind was on Matthew. What did he need? What could we do? How could we help him keep living the life he wanted to live?
I don’t think we were unusual in that. In conversations with other caregivers, I’ve heard that same struggle. Your own needs can fall so far down the list that you stop noticing they’re there.
But I also need to say this: people took care of us.
Our friends and family sent meals. They sent groceries. They donated air miles and booked flights for us. They met immediate needs that might otherwise have become one more thing to figure out. I mentioned in an earlier post that I hadn’t been to the grocery store in a couple of months because people had been so generous.
That mattered. It meant we could focus more of our attention on Matthew.
Still, I don’t remember us looking at each other and saying, “Let’s call a timeout and take a vacation.” That wasn’t where our hearts or minds were. We wanted to be with our son.
As I thought about all of this, Galatians 6:2 kept coming to mind:
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2, NIV
I can see that verse in what our friends and family did for us. They couldn’t change Matthew’s diagnosis. They couldn’t take away the fear surrounding the next scan. But they could carry groceries through the door. They could provide dinner. They could help carry part of what had become too heavy for us to manage alone.
James 2:14–17 challenges us to put faith into action by responding to people’s practical needs. Reading that passage, I think about the difference between telling an overwhelmed family to take care of themselves and helping make that possible.
Sometimes the most helpful words might be, “I’m bringing dinner Thursday. What time works?” Or, “Can I pick up your groceries?” Or, “If you would feel comfortable, I can sit with them while you get some rest.”
Those offers leave room for the caregiver to say what actually helps. A break has to feel possible before someone can accept it.
And then there is Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 25:35–40, where He connects caring for people who are hungry, strangers, or sick with serving Him. That reminds me that these everyday acts of care matter to God. Showing up for someone in need is part of how we live our faith.
Through Facebook groups, grief groups, and GriefShare, I have also learned that not every family has people who show up. Some people facing illness or loss describe being left to carry responsibilities they should never have had to carry alone. These stories have been heartbreaking to hear.
I can’t speak to every family’s circumstances or judge what is in someone else’s heart. I can speak to ours: our faith was central to how we loved Matthew and how we made decisions together. There were many 3 way calls between Jennifer, Macie and I making sure we were helping Matthew make the best decisions.
Matthew’s faith. My faith. Jennifer’s faith. Macie’s faith.
We prayed. We asked hard questions. We leaned on God when we didn’t understand what was happening. Our faith didn’t take away the cancer or guarantee the outcome we desperately wanted. It helped guide us through decisions and days we never wanted to face.
That is a big part of why I created Faith According to Kevin. I want to share what trusting God has looked like in our actual lives, including the fear, the questions, and now the grief. If you don’t believe in Jesus, I hope you’ll look at the witness of Matthew’s life—the way he trusted God and kept pursuing his dreams through cancer—and say to yourself, ‘This God Matthew believed in must have been doing something in him.’ I believe He was, and I want to keep sharing that witness.
Matthew accomplished so much during those 18 months. He earned two degrees while going through cancer treatment. He also shot a trophy buck and a trophy aoudad, checking two things off his bucket list.
Matthew also planned an amazing trip for himself and Jennifer. He handled every detail, including visits to three incredible Major League Baseball ballparks. Jennifer got to share that special time with him, making memories together that she will always treasure.
We were proud to help him keep pursuing the things that mattered to him. He was our son, with goals and plans and a life he wanted to live. Caring for him meant supporting that, too.
I’m also learning to look differently at the advice about rest. In Mark 6:31, Jesus invited His disciples to come away with Him and rest after a demanding time of ministry. I can understand that teaching and still acknowledge how hard it was to act on it while Matthew was sick.
Looking back, I can see that accepting the meals and groceries was one way we allowed ourselves to be cared for. We didn’t have to plan a trip for someone else’s kindness to give us a little room to breathe. But trust me when I say that accepting gifts is easier said than done, especially when you’re used to being the one giving rather than receiving. Jennifer and I had to learn how to accept that kindness, and it was something we prayed about. We were grateful for the help, but learning to receive it didn’t always come naturally.
Today, caregiving looks different in our family. Matthew no longer needs the care we were giving him, and that is a painful sentence to write.
Now my attention turns toward Jennifer, Macie, and myself as we learn to live with this loss. Each of us is grieving someone we love deeply. We need patience with one another, room to be honest about the hard days, and time to heal without pretending that healing means forgetting Matthew. My attention also turns to the Matthew James Mitchell Foundation. I’m proud to say we have established a new nonprofit foundation in Matthew’s name. Please follow the journey at www.mjmstrong.org.
We still need the people who show up. And I want to keep showing up for my family, even as I learn to recognize my own needs.
So this November, I’m thinking about everyone caring for someone they love. Some have been doing it for years. Some are just beginning. Some, like me, may have never thought of themselves as caregivers at all.
If that is you, I hope someone helps carry your burdens, too. I hope the people around you see the appointments, the decisions, the worry, and the love behind what you do.
That text helped me recognize something I hadn’t seen before. For those 18 months, I was a caregiver.
And through every one of them, I was Matthew’s dad. I will always be grateful I got to be there for him.
A Prayer for Caregivers
Heavenly Father,
You know the person I love, and You know how deeply I want to help them. You also know the fear, exhaustion, and questions I don’t always say out loud.
Give me strength for today without letting tomorrow’s worries consume me. Give me patience when I’m tired, wisdom when decisions are difficult, and gentleness when frustration gets the best of me.
Help me recognize what my loved one needs. Let them feel heard, respected, and deeply loved through the care I give.
Lord, receiving help doesn’t always come naturally. Give me the humility to accept kindness and the courage to admit when I need rest. Remind me that I don’t have to carry every burden alone.
When I cannot find the words to pray, meet me in the silence. When I cannot change what is happening, help me trust that You are still with us.
Please bring healing and comfort to the one in my care. Guide those providing treatment, and help us find moments of joy together, even in this difficult season.
Thank You for loving us both. Help me care faithfully today and place what I cannot control in Your hands.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Sources and Scripture
AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving. Caregiving in the U.S. 2025. July 24, 2025. https://www.aarp.org/press/releases/2025-07-24-new-report-reveals-crisis-point-for-americas-63-million-family-caregivers.html
Caregiver Action Network. National Family Caregivers Month. https://www.caregiveraction.org/nfc-month/
Scripture: Galatians 6:2 (quoted from the New International Version); James 2:14–17; Matthew 25:35–40; Mark 6:31 (discussed in the author’s words).
