My mother was 26 when I was born, full of life and dreams, I suppose, for her two little daughters (we would eventually become three on my 5th birthday). Now she is 86, and her memories of ever being a mother, or a wife or a teacher seem to have disappeared from her cortex by that robber called Alzheimer’s Disease.

She was married to my father for 64 years and adored him right up until their last morning together; but since the day he passed away, she has only mentioned him once or twice. It’s heart-breaking for those who know that somewhere in there, our mother’s essence still resides.

Because she still remembers God. She still senses Jesus’ help and prays eloquently.

Two weeks ago she rode away from the skilled nursing center where my father was cared for his last three years, and where she eventually joined him so they could at least see each other most days. There, her basic needs were met, and low wage workers did their best, but she received very. little. stimulation. and she literally . . . faded . . . away.

One recent Sunday afternoon, something snapped in my sister, and she set out to find a different placement. She discovered a new concept in assisted living memory care, a “neighborhood” of several houses with residents of varying needs living in a home-like (versus institutional) atmosphere, where an aide was frosting a cake in an open kitchen where residents were nearby in the  family room or in another house for an activity or hair appointment.

My sister was convinced that this setting was out of reach because of my mother’s stage of decline. She did everything she could to convince the evaluator that it would be a mistake to accept her. But my mom was warmly welcomed, with all of her quirks and needs. For all our fears, she didn’t even register that she had been moved, except to say, “You need to come visit quick, before they take down all these beautiful decorations!”

We know that the most stimulating setting will not slow down the onslaught of this disease–one week in, she qualified for hospice care. But imagine our surprise a few days ago, when we received a screenshot of our mother on Fox 4 News, working on a letter of encouragement to kindergarteners at a local school!

This is my “Ebenezer” for today . . . for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me.” 2 Timothy 1:11

 

Today is another “big” birthday, so I’m told. When I was a kid, I imagined what  life would be like in 2056, assuming of course, that I would live to be 100. Today my perspective is a bit more clear: I will be alive in 2056, but (statistically speaking) my address will probably be “Heaven.” All year, this factoid has made me more reflective about how I will choose to live out the next 40 years (or 21.1 if I’m an average, white American female).

Here are three things that have given me perspective about entering yet another decade:

1. Many people dread turning 30 or 40 or 50, etc. You know, I was actually happier at 50 than at 40 or 30! And another thing. Maybe it’s because I’m mathematically challenged, but I only recently realized that when you turn #, you’ve already lived out that number of years, so why should you dread the approach of any one birthday?
2. I have now been a disciple of Jesus for 75% of my life! The thought that He has kept me in faith all of these years, in spite of all my fears and failures, encourages and energizes me! “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 2 Corinthians 4:16
3. The best birthday card I ever received asked . . . “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?” I considered the age when I was my truest self, still creative, playful, confident, curious, hopeful . . . not unimaginative, subdued, timid, apathetic or cynical . . . for me that age was 7, and I like to picture that in Christ I am moving back toward that soul-age, even as my face wrinkles and my “powers” diminish.

My “Ebenezer” for my 60th birthday, comes from the journals of Madeleine L’Engle: “The challenge I face with children is the redemption of adulthood. We must make it evident that maturity is the fulfillment of childhood and adolescence, not a diminishing; that it is an affirmation of life, not a denial; that it is entering fully into our essential selves. I don’t go along with people who say they’d never want to live their childhoods again; I treasure every bit of mine, all the pains as well as the joy of discovery. But I also love being a grownup. To be half a century plus is wonderfully exciting because I haven’t lost any of my past and am free to stand on the rock of all the past has taught me as I look towards the future.”  (A Circle of Quiet)