I....Can't Remember......

Friday morning I woke up to a noise somewhere outside my room. Having been in a deep, sound sleep, I didn't recognize my surroundings. There was a door where there should have been none, a nightstand I've never seen on which was an unfamiliar clock.

It took a few seconds but I finally came to the realization that I was at a cabin near a lake, taking a study week. Most of us have had moments like these. They are fleeting and last only seconds. But while we're trying to cope with them, it is disorienting and, for some, fearful.

While I was making a cup of coffee, I began to think about my Mom. Mom is 82 years old and beginning to suffer from dementia. At first, her lack of memory was an aggravation. "Mom, we just talked about this earlier this morning!" It was really difficult to understand that Mom just didn't remember things. We all figured that we could persuade her back into clarity. When that didn't work, our patience would grow thin and she would get more upset.

It took a while to get to the point that we began to think, "She just doesn't remember!", and deal with it. Reminding her was no help. I think reminding her just taught her to 'cope' with it and roll along with the conversation as if nothing were amiss. I think it all scared Mom as well. She would never say it frightened her, but from time to time, a moment of clarity would dawn on her and she would say, "I don't remember things very well." with a note of concern and maybe a slight tremble in her voice.

I can't imagine what this is like. All I can think about was that few second interval of not knowing where I was when I woke up. It must be like that for Mom all the time; always trying to figure out where she is, seeing things that should be familiar but they're not, seeing people that you're supposed to know but don't.....hearing them talk to you in a familiar way while trying to place the face and name from somewhere back in a foggy recollection.

It must be lonely.

Then other thoughts invade your mind..."Will I be like that in a few short years? Will anyone be patient with me? Will I remember my family?" Scary indeed!

"So...what do you do now and do you have a girlfriend?" Mom asked me. All I cold say was, "Yeah, Mom. I'm a pastor now and I've been married to Kelly for a while. Life is good." She replied, "Oh, of course, I knew that." It was the third time that day she asked me those questions.

1 Cor 13:4 Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant,

5 does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered,

6 does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth;

7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I struggle between being thankful my Mom is still with us and wondering if modern medicine may have its drawbacks in keeping people alive for so long. Without radical heart surgery and a number of other procedures, Mom would probably not have survived this long. "What's the point?", you wonder and then immediately feel guilty about even having that thought. Yet, deep down inside, I want to serve and honor my Mom and I'm blessed so mightily with a wife who has the same heart's desire.

Still, it's difficult to deal with the emotional burden of working so hard to serve a person who may or may not remember who you are. It's certainly not about receiving recognition for our efforts, neither of us could be concerned less with getting kudos for doing a great job. But the person you know and love just doesn't seem to exist anymore. They've been replaced by a fearful and, at times, suspicious stranger. Even that would be easier to deal with if there was some hope of clarity, some shared memory to hold on to. In many ways, it would be much easier to pour yourself out if it actually were a stranger you were serving. There would be no expectation of familiarity or recognition.

As I pray for Mom, for her health and well-being, I also pray for myself, "God, bless me with clarity in my old age so that I can pass on the wisdom you've taught me, so that I can be a blessing to those around me......and so that they can continue to be a blessing to me."