Dorris
called the other day for someone to come pick her up from her hotel because
Marx forgot to get her.
When
I got to the Arbors I told her that she was not in a hotel; this was where she
was living.
"Here? Why do I live here?"
"Because
this place has many people who can help you and keep you safe."
"I
have been calling Marx all day to get him to come pick me up from this hotel."
"Marx
is dead." (I used to say he’s gone to
heaven, but then she said “I think we can just say he is dead.")
"He’s
dead? How long?"
"He’s
been dead for two years now."
"I
remember you’ve told me that, but I always seem to forget it. I think I need to live some place where I can
get some help with my memory."
"You
do; you live here."
"Here? All I know is I have been sleeping some place
new every night and every place has one of these black couches. "
"Dorris,
this is your room and your couch".
"No,
I don’t think so."
Sometimes
my conversations with Dorris’ memory spin around in such a tight circle that I
want to put my head between my knees and brace myself for a crash landing.
Years
ago I learned about whale songs.
Apparently, whales sing a song back and forth to each other and each
passing of the song changes a small part of it.
After a year of passing the same song, they are singing something
completely new. I think this is a good description of conversation with Dorris.
So much of it repeats, but usually there is some new twist. Some things are important enough to stay in
the song – things like Marx’s passing - and others are replaced with new
concerns.
The
other day she told me she was getting forgetful about her forgetfulness and
that worried her. I didn’t know how to respond and waited a bit for her to
elaborate. Then she quietly shared that she is struggling to remember names of
loved ones who live close by.
What
an interesting way to tell me she senses a change in her memory loss. What a good reminder to me that her memory
loss is not a loss of intelligence, nor is it a complete loss of what makes
Dorris so uniquely Dorris. She walked,
for many years, with her parents and her husband as they slipped into the hole
that is dementia. She is losing her
memory, not what she learned during those long years.
I
wonder if this little song and dance between Dorris and her loved ones is an
example of our song and dance with sin? God reaches out to us and we respond with the
same familiar, but perhaps slightly changed, choreography. God
patiently responds with forgiveness and His Spirit reminds us of our need to
change and our need for Him.
For
me the song usually starts with a few steps of “ lack of trust.” From there I
move on to a descant of “depending on myself” which segues nicely into a verse
or two of” selfishness and pouting.” God
has watched this song and dance for many years.
I change some of the steps, add in a new refrain, and continue on my
merry way, dancing off of the walls of my worry; leading myself further away from the One who
saves me. The One who can finish my song
in the way He intended. Then, ever so smoothly, God spins me back to Him.
Paul and I have found with Dorris that it is best to simply respond and reassure. If we try
too hard to counter her insistence, we only create more insecurity. We just
answer, and repeat, and repeat, and repeat. Words mean little, but human presence
means everything.
And
so it is with my relationship with God. His love and understanding are more
than I can even begin to comprehend. I spin in my sin and worry. He answers,
and repeats, and repeats, and repeats.
The Lord is my
strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
my father's God, and I will exalt him. Exodus 15:2
and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
my father's God, and I will exalt him. Exodus 15:2
My sheep
hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they
will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. John 10:
27-28
My soul also is greatly troubled.
But you, O Lord—how long?
But you, O Lord—how long?
Turn, O Lord, deliver my life;
save me for the sake of your steadfast love. Psalm 6: 3-4
save me for the sake of your steadfast love. Psalm 6: 3-4
1 comment:
Yes and yes and his tether, at times I forget and ignore it, and then he breaks into my train of thought and my puzzled hesitation turns into gratitude, he didn't forget me, he remembered me, he thinks about me, he has not shrugged me off, I am present in his memory. yes jesus, you can do it. Do it!
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