Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools. [a]
They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.
Psalm 84:5-7
I awoke this morning with this Scripture in my mind. I remembered that the word "Baca" means bitter, and this in turn brought to mind a quote from my book for caregivers, due to be published by Bridge-Logos next month:
I felt an absolute dread of my mother's demise, not just over the fact that she would at some point die; but I was afraid of the loss of function that might happen before that time. The ingredients of the cocktail of grief of which I had unwillingly partaken included terrible pity and love for my mother, anger, resentment, guilt, and fear of the future. This draught was complex and it was bitter. It was as though I didn't want to analyze the components of my pain, but I had no choice about dealing with the results of having drunk such a bitter brew. I didn't feel so good!
Those of us who are Christians live our lives here on earth with our hearts "set on pilgrimage" (See Psalm 84:5, above). We are on a journey home, and our life experiences are like scenery on that journey. We will face difficulties and there will be sorrows, but the bitterness of those experiences is made bearable by the hope we hold in our hearts. Praise can flow in the midst of sorrow because he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead (1 Peter 1:3).
The art of living a Godly life has to do with making the bitter valley a place of refreshment. That’s why things like cleaning out drawers and doing laundry and preparing meals (or taking care of an Alzheimer patient) can be Godly pursuits.
The passage from Psalms doesn’t say that we simply provide little oases of refreshment here in this bitter valley, but that we transform the bitterness into sweetness as we pass through. The sweetness travels with us, emanates from us; and like the Israelites sitting safe and free from plagues while the Egyptians across town suffered affliction, we have been enabled to stay free from the corrupting and embittering influences of the world by the power of the Holy Spirit within us.
Lord show me today how to abide in Your presence so that my words and actions become a sweetening agent for my mother, my family, and myself; an antidote for the bitterness of coping with Alzheimer's disease .
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I Can't!
I believe that God's light shines uniquely through every one of us, and so as we learn from one another, we gain a more comprehensive knowledge of the Lord. In this way the body of Christ is knit together and strengthened.
During the past five years I've written about my experiences as an Alzheimer caregiver, seeking God's guidance and then recording the results. The portion of God's light that shines through me in a way that might edify others has little to do with the physical labor of caregiving. I came to understand this truth because when I was tempted to spend time describing specifics of my labors for Mom, I often felt the Holy Spirit's restraining influence. The anointing with which the Lord has entrusted me has to do with making a successful transition from a past relational role to a new identity and ministry as a caregiver.
The Lord often calls us to serve in ways for which we are not naturally well-suited. I remember when I received God's call to be a teacher. I had a passion to help small children to avoid spirit wounds, but few other qualifications for the job. I was not patient, or particularly maternal. I was not a person who could be spontaneously creative, and so every classroom session had to be preceded by hours of preparation and even rehearsal. Filing the deluge of teaching information and materials in a manner that gave some hope of future access was burdensome and time consuming, because I was not by nature orderly or organized.
Furthermore, my nerves just weren't created to withstand the strain of teaching. I developed insomnia, and for the 15 years that I taught first and second grade I often operated on just three to five hours sleep a night. I would occasionally not sleep at all.
The logical recourse would have been to find another line of work, but the Lord kept His hand upon me and I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. And so I had to learn to walk in His strength and not my own.
You see, we human beings will not access the Lord's strength as long as we are able to utilize our own. Whenever I've cried out to the Lord saying, "I can't," I've felt his gentle strength and the warmth of His smile. I hear Him say, "I know you can't, Child, but I can!"
Fast forward twenty-five years from that call to teach, to a chilly March day in 2004 when Mom's nurse practitioner said, "Your mother has Alzheimer's disease." As an only child I knew that I would become my mother's caregiver by default.
"Oh Lord," I cried, "I can't!!!!"
But I felt His gentle strength and the warmth of His smile...
**********************************************************************************************
If we say, "No," to God's call to serve based on our own "I can'ts," we remove ourselves from the influence of His sculpting hand, forfeiting great blessing.
Scripture: "But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me" (2 Corinthians 12:9).
During the past five years I've written about my experiences as an Alzheimer caregiver, seeking God's guidance and then recording the results. The portion of God's light that shines through me in a way that might edify others has little to do with the physical labor of caregiving. I came to understand this truth because when I was tempted to spend time describing specifics of my labors for Mom, I often felt the Holy Spirit's restraining influence. The anointing with which the Lord has entrusted me has to do with making a successful transition from a past relational role to a new identity and ministry as a caregiver.
The Lord often calls us to serve in ways for which we are not naturally well-suited. I remember when I received God's call to be a teacher. I had a passion to help small children to avoid spirit wounds, but few other qualifications for the job. I was not patient, or particularly maternal. I was not a person who could be spontaneously creative, and so every classroom session had to be preceded by hours of preparation and even rehearsal. Filing the deluge of teaching information and materials in a manner that gave some hope of future access was burdensome and time consuming, because I was not by nature orderly or organized.
Furthermore, my nerves just weren't created to withstand the strain of teaching. I developed insomnia, and for the 15 years that I taught first and second grade I often operated on just three to five hours sleep a night. I would occasionally not sleep at all.
The logical recourse would have been to find another line of work, but the Lord kept His hand upon me and I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. And so I had to learn to walk in His strength and not my own.
You see, we human beings will not access the Lord's strength as long as we are able to utilize our own. Whenever I've cried out to the Lord saying, "I can't," I've felt his gentle strength and the warmth of His smile. I hear Him say, "I know you can't, Child, but I can!"
Fast forward twenty-five years from that call to teach, to a chilly March day in 2004 when Mom's nurse practitioner said, "Your mother has Alzheimer's disease." As an only child I knew that I would become my mother's caregiver by default.
"Oh Lord," I cried, "I can't!!!!"
But I felt His gentle strength and the warmth of His smile...
**********************************************************************************************
If we say, "No," to God's call to serve based on our own "I can'ts," we remove ourselves from the influence of His sculpting hand, forfeiting great blessing.
Scripture: "But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me" (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Thursday, August 6, 2009
God's Love for Mom
In the five years since Mom's diagnosis with Alzheimer's disease, I have learned a little bit about the Lord's love for her. He loves her intensely, passionately, and with a Holy focus and constancy that is not mirrored perfectly by any human experience or emotion. It is a little bit like the first flush of romantic love, when the beloved consumes one's every waking thought. It is perhaps most like a mother's intense, protective love for her tiny and helpless baby.
God's love for Mom isn't much at all like a child's love for her parent. Child-love is somewhat selfish, and that's how I loved my mother before I became her caregiver. I was the child of a mother who always put my needs ahead of her own. I expected this of her, and even into adulthood I was guilty of acting churlish toward her if ever she seemed to neglect me. When I began to understand that the Lord had anointed me to be Mom's caregiver, I found that the love I'd held for her as my mother was completely insufficient to move me to serve her needs as the Lord was asking me to do.
When my mother became ill, I didn't at first understand that the Lord expected me to manifest His love to her. I had the idea that the Lord's love would back-light my determination to be a good daughter, and I went forward in human strength. Out of my intense need for my mother's love and terrible grief over the prospect of losing her, I fought hard to provide the best of care for her; but I couldn't sustain the effort. As a newly diagnosed Alzheimer patient, Mom viewed my efforts to help her as being intrusive. When human love is met with resistance or ingratitude, resentment and anger is the natural result.
God's love for Mom has nothing to do with whether or not she deserves it. God's love for her has to to with God Himself. Mom belongs to Him, and so as a sheep in His pasture, He cares for her according to His own Holy standards. I remember the discomfort of the dawning realization that the Lord had chosen me to be a human vessel through which He would manifest His love for His beloved Anna Ruth. He is the One and Only God, the God whose Holy love allowed Him to sacrifice His own son in order to reconcile fallen, sinful humans. His love is not reasonable or logical. There is no consideration of cost, no balance sheet that weighs Mom's needs against mine, no remonstrance saying, "You've got to consider your own needs and those of your family." God has never once said to me, "You've got to take care of yourself." He expects me to trust that He is my caregiver.
I have learned to respect God's love for my mother. In learning of God's love for Mom and how He expects me to manifest that love, I've gained a greater awareness of His love for me.
Scripture: "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you," (John 15:12).
God's love for Mom isn't much at all like a child's love for her parent. Child-love is somewhat selfish, and that's how I loved my mother before I became her caregiver. I was the child of a mother who always put my needs ahead of her own. I expected this of her, and even into adulthood I was guilty of acting churlish toward her if ever she seemed to neglect me. When I began to understand that the Lord had anointed me to be Mom's caregiver, I found that the love I'd held for her as my mother was completely insufficient to move me to serve her needs as the Lord was asking me to do.
When my mother became ill, I didn't at first understand that the Lord expected me to manifest His love to her. I had the idea that the Lord's love would back-light my determination to be a good daughter, and I went forward in human strength. Out of my intense need for my mother's love and terrible grief over the prospect of losing her, I fought hard to provide the best of care for her; but I couldn't sustain the effort. As a newly diagnosed Alzheimer patient, Mom viewed my efforts to help her as being intrusive. When human love is met with resistance or ingratitude, resentment and anger is the natural result.
God's love for Mom has nothing to do with whether or not she deserves it. God's love for her has to to with God Himself. Mom belongs to Him, and so as a sheep in His pasture, He cares for her according to His own Holy standards. I remember the discomfort of the dawning realization that the Lord had chosen me to be a human vessel through which He would manifest His love for His beloved Anna Ruth. He is the One and Only God, the God whose Holy love allowed Him to sacrifice His own son in order to reconcile fallen, sinful humans. His love is not reasonable or logical. There is no consideration of cost, no balance sheet that weighs Mom's needs against mine, no remonstrance saying, "You've got to consider your own needs and those of your family." God has never once said to me, "You've got to take care of yourself." He expects me to trust that He is my caregiver.
I have learned to respect God's love for my mother. In learning of God's love for Mom and how He expects me to manifest that love, I've gained a greater awareness of His love for me.
Scripture: "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you," (John 15:12).
Monday, July 27, 2009
Laughter
Little moments of shared laughter go a long way toward making the burdens of dementia endurable for both caregiver and patient. At the heart of the grief of Alzheimer's disease there is a little glimmer of joy springing from the fact that no matter what state our loved ones are in, at least they are still with us. Shared laughter brings that joy to light even if just for a moment.
I love to laugh with my mom. Before she was sick we shared the same sense of humor, and when that surfaces now I feel such gratitude that I still have her with me. Of course just behind that emotion there are tears because she's obviously in the process of leaving me; but for today she's here, and there are opportunities to connect with her still.
On a rainy afternoon in 1980, my mother and I sat in the waiting room outside my doctor's office. I was expecting my first child, and that day we shared the waiting room with a half dozen other women, all of whom were in varying stages of pregnancy. We were not a talkative group and there was silence in the room when a UPS truck pulled up. The driver sprinted to the door, stuck his head into the room and shouted, "Delivery!" He then focused on the startled faces of the group of pregnant women, blushed, dropped his package on the floor, and fled. Mom and I both burst into laughter, and when we realized we were the only ones laughing, the joke became funnier still. I'm not sure why the other pregnant ladies didn't connect the word "delivery" with the imminent arrival of their own special packages, but Mom and I sure did. And why didn't anyone else think the UPS man's obvious embarrassment was hilarious?
Move forward nearly thirty years to a hot July afternoon in 2009. Mom and I were being chauffeured to an appointment by my husband. He had taken an afternoon off from farming, which was a real sacrifice of love for him, and he was not in the best of humors. Mom and I both sensed this and were a little giggly--his taciturn face and abrupt answers to our lighthearted comments were not bringing out the best in us. Mom looked in the mirror and said, "My hair sure does look nice when I'm headed to the beauty shop to get it fixed."
"No, Mom, we're going to the eye doctor," I said.
Exasperated, my husband spoke slowly and clearly, "We are going to the dentist!"
Mom and I both laughed until we cried, as my husband shook his head in resignation. We were indeed headed to the dentist's office for Mom's six month checkup.
Sharing laughter with Mom reminds me of how blessed we are to be together still.
Scripture: "A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing..." (Proverbs 17:22 AMP).
I love to laugh with my mom. Before she was sick we shared the same sense of humor, and when that surfaces now I feel such gratitude that I still have her with me. Of course just behind that emotion there are tears because she's obviously in the process of leaving me; but for today she's here, and there are opportunities to connect with her still.
On a rainy afternoon in 1980, my mother and I sat in the waiting room outside my doctor's office. I was expecting my first child, and that day we shared the waiting room with a half dozen other women, all of whom were in varying stages of pregnancy. We were not a talkative group and there was silence in the room when a UPS truck pulled up. The driver sprinted to the door, stuck his head into the room and shouted, "Delivery!" He then focused on the startled faces of the group of pregnant women, blushed, dropped his package on the floor, and fled. Mom and I both burst into laughter, and when we realized we were the only ones laughing, the joke became funnier still. I'm not sure why the other pregnant ladies didn't connect the word "delivery" with the imminent arrival of their own special packages, but Mom and I sure did. And why didn't anyone else think the UPS man's obvious embarrassment was hilarious?
Move forward nearly thirty years to a hot July afternoon in 2009. Mom and I were being chauffeured to an appointment by my husband. He had taken an afternoon off from farming, which was a real sacrifice of love for him, and he was not in the best of humors. Mom and I both sensed this and were a little giggly--his taciturn face and abrupt answers to our lighthearted comments were not bringing out the best in us. Mom looked in the mirror and said, "My hair sure does look nice when I'm headed to the beauty shop to get it fixed."
"No, Mom, we're going to the eye doctor," I said.
Exasperated, my husband spoke slowly and clearly, "We are going to the dentist!"
Mom and I both laughed until we cried, as my husband shook his head in resignation. We were indeed headed to the dentist's office for Mom's six month checkup.
Sharing laughter with Mom reminds me of how blessed we are to be together still.
Scripture: "A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing..." (Proverbs 17:22 AMP).
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Patient/Caregiver Perspectives
My mother's journals reveal telling insights into how her mind does and does not function. Her journaling may give help to Alzheimer's caregivers whose loved ones are unable or are not inclined to put their thoughts into words. Here is an incident that occurred yesterday, first from my perspective as caregiver and then from Mom's perspective as patient:
Caregiver's perspective:
Yesterday I arranged a little lunch date for Mom, her respite care provider, and me. We ate pizza, chatted together, and Mom enjoyed the interaction. Later in the afternoon I brought Mom a snack of fresh fruit and graham crackers, and a couple of hours later I prepared and served her supper. In the evening I was tired, having shopped for groceries and prepared food for a busy weekend that includes company and a church dinner. I took Mom for a walk during which we chatted about the events of our day. I had returned to my part of the house to prepare her evening snack and sort her night meds when I heard her yelling. I went in and saw that she was was feeling neglected and irritated. "I just thought I'd let you know that whenever anyone can spend a little bit of time talking to me, I certainly would appreciate it," she said. I'm sure I displayed at least a touch of righteous anger. I told her I was busy and went out and shut the door. A few minutes later I brought her the snack and medicine and told her good night. I admit I feel the same anger once again as I write these words; a good portion of my day had been spent in acts of service for Mom and yet in the evening, she concluded that no one cared about her because she felt a stab of loneliness.
Patient's perspective (from Mom's journal entry):
I must have had a little brain glitch. Suddenly I felt need for companionship and conversation so I yelled, "Hello!" until someone came to the door. I told them what I wanted and they just stared at me a moment--turned and left.
An Alzheimer's patient loses the ability to utilize several sources of information simultaneously. Those of us whose minds are still functioning more or less normally don't realize how often we need to think about more than one aspect of a situation in order to draw an accurate conclusion. Furthermore, the dementia patient has lost confidence in his/her own ability to perform the simplest of tasks, but retains the ability to ask for help. Thus, the disease causes a cluster of symptoms that in the general population could justifiably be labeled "lazy" and "self-centered." It is up to the caregiver to recognize these behaviors as being clinical effects of the disease. When the only information the patient is able to draw upon comes from the present moment, then oftentimes those conclusions will be inaccurate.
I'm ashamed to say that in response to the situation I've shared above, I displayed irritation toward my mother. However, the curse of the forgetfulness of Alzheimer's also contains a hidden blessing, because when I returned to Mom's room a few minutes later armed with a snack and a cheerful attitude, all was well between us once again.
Scripture: "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you" (Colossians 3:13).
Caregiver's perspective:
Yesterday I arranged a little lunch date for Mom, her respite care provider, and me. We ate pizza, chatted together, and Mom enjoyed the interaction. Later in the afternoon I brought Mom a snack of fresh fruit and graham crackers, and a couple of hours later I prepared and served her supper. In the evening I was tired, having shopped for groceries and prepared food for a busy weekend that includes company and a church dinner. I took Mom for a walk during which we chatted about the events of our day. I had returned to my part of the house to prepare her evening snack and sort her night meds when I heard her yelling. I went in and saw that she was was feeling neglected and irritated. "I just thought I'd let you know that whenever anyone can spend a little bit of time talking to me, I certainly would appreciate it," she said. I'm sure I displayed at least a touch of righteous anger. I told her I was busy and went out and shut the door. A few minutes later I brought her the snack and medicine and told her good night. I admit I feel the same anger once again as I write these words; a good portion of my day had been spent in acts of service for Mom and yet in the evening, she concluded that no one cared about her because she felt a stab of loneliness.
Patient's perspective (from Mom's journal entry):
I must have had a little brain glitch. Suddenly I felt need for companionship and conversation so I yelled, "Hello!" until someone came to the door. I told them what I wanted and they just stared at me a moment--turned and left.
An Alzheimer's patient loses the ability to utilize several sources of information simultaneously. Those of us whose minds are still functioning more or less normally don't realize how often we need to think about more than one aspect of a situation in order to draw an accurate conclusion. Furthermore, the dementia patient has lost confidence in his/her own ability to perform the simplest of tasks, but retains the ability to ask for help. Thus, the disease causes a cluster of symptoms that in the general population could justifiably be labeled "lazy" and "self-centered." It is up to the caregiver to recognize these behaviors as being clinical effects of the disease. When the only information the patient is able to draw upon comes from the present moment, then oftentimes those conclusions will be inaccurate.
I'm ashamed to say that in response to the situation I've shared above, I displayed irritation toward my mother. However, the curse of the forgetfulness of Alzheimer's also contains a hidden blessing, because when I returned to Mom's room a few minutes later armed with a snack and a cheerful attitude, all was well between us once again.
Scripture: "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you" (Colossians 3:13).
Friday, July 17, 2009
Silver Linings
I try to look for the few silver linings to our Alzheimer's clouds. As Pa Ingalls said, "There's no great ill that doesn't bring some small good..."
Here's my latest:
I'm trying to do my Christmas shopping in July this year--a first ever for me. I ordered a beautifully painted sign for Mom that says, "Amazing Grace." When it came I was unable to keep from showing it to her, figuring I'd go ahead and put it up for her now and buy another gift for her to have in December. She loved the sign! She ooohed and aaaahhhed over it and we planned where to hang it. It was the most pleasant interchange we'd had for awhile. I took it back to my part of the house thinking I'd put it up later but didn't get it done. A few days later I took it in to Mom again, and, not remembering that she'd ever seen it before, she had the exact wonderful reaction! I loved seeing her loving it! A plan hatched in my brain--I can multiply the joy of gift giving by presenting this one gift every week or so until Mom wises up to me...and I can then wrap it up and give it to her for Christmas! Talk about getting my money's worth out of that gift...we both get to enjoy it so much more because of Mom's AD! Just a little joy multiplied, but there's my silver lining for the day.
I posted this story at the Caregiver's forum at the Alzheimer's Association's message boards, and one lady commented, "Truly the gift that keeps on giving! :)"
Scripture:
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
Here's my latest:
I'm trying to do my Christmas shopping in July this year--a first ever for me. I ordered a beautifully painted sign for Mom that says, "Amazing Grace." When it came I was unable to keep from showing it to her, figuring I'd go ahead and put it up for her now and buy another gift for her to have in December. She loved the sign! She ooohed and aaaahhhed over it and we planned where to hang it. It was the most pleasant interchange we'd had for awhile. I took it back to my part of the house thinking I'd put it up later but didn't get it done. A few days later I took it in to Mom again, and, not remembering that she'd ever seen it before, she had the exact wonderful reaction! I loved seeing her loving it! A plan hatched in my brain--I can multiply the joy of gift giving by presenting this one gift every week or so until Mom wises up to me...and I can then wrap it up and give it to her for Christmas! Talk about getting my money's worth out of that gift...we both get to enjoy it so much more because of Mom's AD! Just a little joy multiplied, but there's my silver lining for the day.
I posted this story at the Caregiver's forum at the Alzheimer's Association's message boards, and one lady commented, "Truly the gift that keeps on giving! :)"
Scripture:
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Importance of Intercessors
Those acquainted with grief are aware of how it can lie dormant for a period of months or years only to come surging to the surface at the most inopportune times. This sort of grief tends to creep insidiously to the surface, gaining a sure foothold before we are aware of its presence.
In the midst of a frantically busy holiday weekend, I was nearly overwhelmed with grief over loss of the family traditions that died with my father's physical death and my mother's Alzheimer's induced inability to remember. How could I have forgotten that the fourth is the holiday that I miss having parents the most; how could I have allowed that terrible sense of loss to advance to flood stage before awareness of it reached my conscious mind? Of the catalysts that open the gates for this type of grief, a dear sister in Christ says it's as though..."we’ve been swept onto the Grief Express, bulleted back in time and soul to those first days..." (Melody's blog).
I was doing a fair job of keeping the grief waters dammed behind a determined smile and a busy schedule, when I walked into my mother's room. In a high pitched, little girl voice, she was singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," a song she's often told me was sung to her by her father when she was small. I felt her terrible loss of no longer being a little girl whose daddy adores her, and I turned and literally ran from the room. The pathos of my mother's situation had broken the barriers that had been keeping my own sorrows at bay. When I came to myself, I was clutching the kitchen counter, drawing in deep breaths, knowing my blood pressure was too high. I knew I could not cope any longer with the circumstances of my life and I felt desperate to escape. I was actually thinking I'd just write a note, pack a bag, and go to a motel for the weekend. I pulled out my phone and texted three friends, asking for prayer. Almost instantly my body relaxed, my emotions calmed, my thinking cleared. Next moment I received replies from my friends assuring me that I was being lifted to the Lord in prayer.
The remainder of the weekend was not easy, but I was strengthened to bear the weight of the responsibilities I needed to fulfill, and the grief receded. There is no doubt at all in my mind that this ability to cope came as a direct result of the intercession of my faithful friends who know the power of prayer.
Today I emailed the friends who prayed for me and closed with these words: Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that we have one another. Thanks be to God for Jesus and His availing Blood, for His forgiveness, for His grace, for His mercy and
help. I praise Him.
Scripture: "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective" (James 5:16).
In the midst of a frantically busy holiday weekend, I was nearly overwhelmed with grief over loss of the family traditions that died with my father's physical death and my mother's Alzheimer's induced inability to remember. How could I have forgotten that the fourth is the holiday that I miss having parents the most; how could I have allowed that terrible sense of loss to advance to flood stage before awareness of it reached my conscious mind? Of the catalysts that open the gates for this type of grief, a dear sister in Christ says it's as though..."we’ve been swept onto the Grief Express, bulleted back in time and soul to those first days..." (Melody's blog).
I was doing a fair job of keeping the grief waters dammed behind a determined smile and a busy schedule, when I walked into my mother's room. In a high pitched, little girl voice, she was singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," a song she's often told me was sung to her by her father when she was small. I felt her terrible loss of no longer being a little girl whose daddy adores her, and I turned and literally ran from the room. The pathos of my mother's situation had broken the barriers that had been keeping my own sorrows at bay. When I came to myself, I was clutching the kitchen counter, drawing in deep breaths, knowing my blood pressure was too high. I knew I could not cope any longer with the circumstances of my life and I felt desperate to escape. I was actually thinking I'd just write a note, pack a bag, and go to a motel for the weekend. I pulled out my phone and texted three friends, asking for prayer. Almost instantly my body relaxed, my emotions calmed, my thinking cleared. Next moment I received replies from my friends assuring me that I was being lifted to the Lord in prayer.
The remainder of the weekend was not easy, but I was strengthened to bear the weight of the responsibilities I needed to fulfill, and the grief receded. There is no doubt at all in my mind that this ability to cope came as a direct result of the intercession of my faithful friends who know the power of prayer.
Today I emailed the friends who prayed for me and closed with these words: Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that we have one another. Thanks be to God for Jesus and His availing Blood, for His forgiveness, for His grace, for His mercy and
help. I praise Him.
Scripture: "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective" (James 5:16).
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