We’ll never achieve perfection here on Earth, but we can certainly influence beauty to flourish and help weeds diminish. In time, our blossoms will show forth love, peace, kindness, and joy. When we plant and nourish our souls with God, he produces characteristics that reflect his goodness. We become bright, colorful displays of his glory in a dreary world.

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When we were younger, love looked like stealing a few moments to be together and catch up at the end of the day, exhausted after chasing small children around and my husband working long hours a distance from home. It was taking turns staying up all night with a sick child. It was walking prayerfully and tearfully through struggles too personal to mention. Love looked like finding a few moments to be together in the middle of church activities and basketball and ballet schedules when they were teens, eventually watching each of them leave the nest and walk out the door into their adult lives.

Then love transitioned into my husband and I standing beside each other while we attended many doctors’ visits with aging parents whose health was failing (which was an utmost privilege). Love was missing church services and many other events to sit with or meet the needs of my mom in a memory care facility while still holding on to our faith and each other. Love has been both of us getting up, dressed, and heading to the hospital in the middle of the night, many times over, after a startling phone call for an emergency with a parent. Love has been giving each other the time to sit by their hospital beds. Love has looked like my husband and I holding on to each other while we stood in front of their caskets.

Love has been the joy of our grandchildren lighting up the room simply by entering it with their sweet little smiles and watching them change and grow. Love has been about having an intricate part in their little lives and teaching them about Jesus’s love.

More recently, love has been more quiet evenings at home, sometimes simply being together to rest—with easy meals for two, long walks together, and caring for each other when one of us is ill. It has meant reflecting on our real blessings as a couple: our adult children whom we love dearly and enjoy their company and conversation (waiting excitedly and impatiently when we know they’re coming for a visit) as well as our most precious blessings of grandchildren and seeing the world through young eyes again.

Love now looks like peace where we both love and accept each other in this stage of life. It looks like simplifying and eliminating anything unnecessary—where we both agree that we want to leave good memories and live lives of significance for whatever time is left. And love looks like following God-given dreams and purposes—no matter what ages we are.

Does it all look like a romantic commercial? No. But it looks like love resulting from two imperfect people united in one perfect God.

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You have probably been mourning losses in her, piece by piece, as you watch her memory fading and her behaviors changing. The saying is true: “when you love someone with dementia, you lose them twice.”  She is still there, yet she is not there in the same way.

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So we hang on until our fingers are blue and won’t let go. And then after days, weeks, months, and sometimes years of asking, and waiting and asking, and waiting—it happens: the healing, the breakthrough, the blessing. But we’re left with a limp.

Don’t be ashamed! Use your limp to tell someone about what God has done for you in your wrestling match with Him just like Jacob did. Use it as a reminder to yourself that God never leaves or abandons us. Better yet, take someone’s hand and limp along with them. Whatever you do, don’t begrudge the gift of the limp.

Scripture Reference: Genesis 32:24-31

This left Jacob all alone in the camp, and a man came and wrestled with him until the dawn began to break.

When the man saw that he would not win the match, he touched Jacob’s hip and wrenched it out of its socket. Then the man said, “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking!”

But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

“What is your name?” the man asked.

He replied, “Jacob.”

“Your name will no longer be Jacob,” the man told him. “From now on you will be called Israel, because you have fought with God and with men and have won.”

“Please tell me your name,” Jacob said.

“Why do you want to know my name?” the man replied. Then he

blessed Jacob there.

Jacob named the place Peniel (which means “face of God”), for he said, “I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.”

The sun was rising as Jacob left Peniel,  and he was limping because of the injury to his hip.

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I’m entering the New Year with hopefulness—hopefulness for the dreams God continues to plant in my heart.

What dream has God given you? It doesn’t matter what that dream looks like to others. What is God placing upon your heart?

I had some new God-dreams (for myself as well as my husband and I as a couple) planted in my heart years ago when we entered the “empty nest” years. We have been in the process of working on turning those dreams into reality since 2018. Although I had these dreams placed on my heart long before that time, my timing wasn’t God’s timing.

I have also been working on simplifying at home. After both of my parents passed away, I realized even more how insignificant and meaningless “things” are. They truly hold no value in Heaven. Living a life of significance for God, however, does hold value for eternity. Sure, I keep a few things that hold sentimental value for me, but overall I long to simplify and focus more on God’s calling, not things. He has a new vision for me to accomplish that couldn’t have happened in younger years for many reasons.

Dreams take work.

I soon discovered how much prayer, learning new things, and hands-on work these dreams would take at this stage (I’m not 25 anymore!). However, I began to pray myself/us through each stage—one step at a time—one obstacle at a time (and there have been many obstacles). When God plants a dream, the enemy loves to throw distractions, problems, and doubts our way. Don’t give in to them. Pray it out, sweat it out, and work it out.

If you believe the Lord is giving you a dream, submit it back to him in prayer—fervently. Make sure it lines up with him and his Word. It doesn’t matter how old you are, what qualifications you have at the moment, or what your current situation or position is! Begin by taking one step at a time. Expect it to be difficult—with tears, frustration, and a ton of hard work mixed in as well as opposition from people (maybe even friends and family) and, of course, the enemy himself. But they are not the givers of your dreams.

Keep your heart and mind focused on the true Dream-Giver, God. Whatever dream God places on your heart and calls you to do is between you and him. Keep following! Allow him to bring it to fruition in your life.

So how are you entering the New Year? I pray it will be with hope and a new God-dream! Let’s watch and see how God works in 2022!

“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” —Luke 1:45 ESV

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'” —Jeremiah 29:11

“And let the [gracious] favor of the Lord our God be on us; Confirm for us the work of our hands—Yes, confirm the work of our hands.” —Psalm 90:17 AMP

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It’s her — that girl who comes to be with me. I think she’s my little girl, but she might be my mom. I’m never quite sure which one she is when she comes. She tells me her name. That is the name of my little girl. She must be my daughter.

Was she here yesterday? I don’t remember. She smiles and hugs me. The hugs feel like something I’ve felt before — not a new hug but like a well-worn hug from a long time ago. She brings me things that taste good and smell good — not like the tastes and smells in this strange place. Somehow she knows me. Her voice: It sounds a little like mine, especially when she laughs. She even looks and acts a bit like me. I have a little girl who is just like her, but I’m not sure where she is at the moment. Is this my daughter?

I sit down in this rocking chair that fits me just right, and she brushes my hair. I like how she curls it under just so. I can’t figure out how to make it go that way anymore. She makes sure I have socks on with my shoes. That feels much better now. I can’t seem to remember what goes where or when to do things.

She knows I like to go for walks, no matter what the weather is. She puts a coat on me from that closet and helps me zip it up. I don’t know who it belongs to or how to make that zipper work anymore, but it seems to fit me well. We walk down the hallway through this big room with lots of people sitting around — who are all of these people? I think that man is the preacher, and that lady sometimes needs my help with eating. It’s too noisy in here. There are odd pictures moving on that TV on the wall. Some of them frighten me. I need away from here.

Caring Bonds of Love

She takes me by the hand through the door that makes a strange, scary beeping sound. We’re finally out in the fresh air. I can breathe again. It feels good, but I wish this big fence wasn’t in the way. I’d like to keep walking down over that hill. Maybe I could find home on that street over there. I’ve been looking for home every day. I can’t find it. This girl feels a little like home though. I want to go home. Why won’t she take me home with her? I need to find home.

She sits with me at this table of strangers while I have something to eat and helps me figure out what I like. I didn’t know I was hungry, but I was feeling a little sick in my stomach. It feels better now, so I must have been hungry.

This girl seems to know a lot about me. It feels comforting to have her near. She comes at nighttime too and helps me put on different clothes. I’m not sure why I need different clothes again, but I do feel cozy and warm.

I don’t recall what those bottles and tubes are for anymore either. One smells minty and one like lavender. She rubs some of the lavender one on my hands and feet, and brushes some of the minty one on my teeth. There is something so familiar about the cream she’s rubbing on my face from that jar — such a sweet fragrance. Have I used that before? I feel more relaxed now.

She helps me climb into this big bed and makes sure I’m settled in the middle so I don’t fall out. For some reason, I roll out of bed and fall down a lot. I’m fidgety. I  can’t seem to stop my hands from pulling at the blankets and grabbing at the air. She tucks the covers in around me — is she my mom? She stays with me, whispering kind words and holding my hand because I’m afraid of the darkness surrounding me. I feel safer now. It must be bedtime because I’m drifting off to sleep . . .

. . . The sun is shining. Is it morning? A new day? What is that noise? I think someone is knocking on that door. It’s her — that girl who comes to be with me. Was she here yesterday? I don’t remember.

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My list of “don’ts” for those loving someone with dementia and for those watching from the sidelines:

Don’t think all dementia comes from one disease. Dementia is an umbrella term for a group of symptoms that can happen within multiple diseases.

Don’t compare your loved one’s dementia journey with someone else’s (and don’t allow this to be done to you). I watched this happen frequently. Stages and symptoms have a lot to do with the individual’s history who is living with dementia (their life, their past, trauma they endured, etc.), and the journey will be very unique to him or her. Instead use the similarities to gain some support on your journey and also support someone else.

Don’t compare your emotional pain levels (according to where your loved one is on his or her journey) with someone else’s, i.e., “My pain is worse than yours because I’m dealing with XYZ, and you don’t have to.” The stages in and of themselves can ebb and flow. Relationship dynamics are never exactly the same. Timelines are rarely the same. If a loved one passes through the stages quicker, it doesn’t make it any less painful than those who are dealing with that stage longer.

Don’t allow someone to tell you what symptoms are affecting you and what symptoms are not affecting you. For some, their name being forgotten by their loved one is devastating. For others, watching their loved one not being able to feed himself or herself anymore is heartbreaking. It’s not our position to tell someone else how dementia is affecting them. The losses are hard enough.

Don’t look at someone else and wonder why they needed to place their loved one in a memory care facility or why they need a week of respite care for their loved one if they’re still living at home. You are likely seeing a single drop of water representing their lives with this disease, while they are drowning in an ocean of dementia’s effects.

Don’t offer quick cures and fast fixes. News flash: There are none currently! It is so painful when caregivers are doing anything and everything they can to slow the progression of their loved one’s memory shutting down, but then well-meaning people offer simplistic solutions. If there were a fix or a cure, all of us facing this disease battle would have given everything we had to obtain it while we watched our loved ones brutally battle this mind thief. “Just eat this, not that. Just exercise more. Just engage in brain activity more. Just take this supplement. Just use this medication. If you had, if you would, if you could,” and on and on and on it goes. My mom was the healthiest eater, most fit, 78-year-old woman you could have met. Dementia still ravaged her life. While some of these suggestions may offer some benefit and progress is being made for some with dietary modifications, there is no hard and fast cure currently. Let’s work to find one.

My Precious Mom

Don’t forget to check on the caregivers. Send a card. Make a meal or send a gift card for a meal (you don’t have to wait until end stages have arrived – this disease is overwhelmingly exhausting no matter where your loved one is residing).

If someone’s loved one is in a memory care facility, don’t visit without asking their caregiver first. My mom was extremely afraid of anyone she didn’t recognize knocking on her “apartment” (as we called it) door. It would have sent her into a tailspin to have people she had forgotten coming to see her. They should also be willing to hear from you about simple guidelines on how to speak and act around your loved one. If you’re the caregiver, don’t hesitate to set strict boundaries about who comes and goes. We did. It will save you and your loved one from huge upheavals if you are able to keep a calm, peaceful environment.

If you’re visiting someone with dementia, don’t say, “Don’t you remember me?” My sweet mom would immediately look down at the floor, obviously uncomfortable and confused because she didn’t remember. Instead state who you are and why you are there. Even my husband and I did this every single time we knocked on Mom’s door or approached her in a different area of the facility. “Hi Mom. It’s Heidi and Jeff. We came to visit for a while.” Every. Single. Time. And don’t get offended if you’re not remembered on that day. It could change tomorrow or it might never change. Some days we were my mom’s parents; other days we were her daughter and son-in-law again. It is heartbreaking, but there is no fault to be placed for a disease that is destroying the brain.

Don’t hesitate to send cards. When you do, keep the words short and simple. The time comes where they can’t make sense of endless words. Mom couldn’t read straight across a line. She skipped lines, and it made no sense to her. Make sure you send cards with beautiful, clear pictures and not “odd” pictures. Mom looked at a picture that wasn’t clear and wondered all sorts of scary things about it. She loved looking at pictures of pretty scenery or puppies, etc. She saved them and looked at them over and over again.

Don’t take gifts without asking the caregiver first. I was fortunate here because those who went to visit my mom were very tuned into this. It is a kind gesture, but there comes a point in time where items like hand creams, lotions, etc. need to be put up out of reach for safety concerns. Those with a dementia-related disease will get to the point where they don’t remember what these items are used for. A hand cream might be mistaken for toothpaste. Always ask first. For a while, Mom was able to enjoy those things. Then we got to the point where I made labels in German (her native language) with a picture and placed on all of her personal care items. This worked for a short time. After a while, we had to go in and do a sweep of her apartment, placing dangerous items out of reach for her own safety. Any glass or breakable items were off limits from the beginning. They presented too much of a danger for our particular situation.

Last but not least, please don’t refer to people with dementia as “those people.” “Those people” are the same as “those people” with heart disease, “those people” with kidney disease, “those people” with diabetes, “those people” with lung disease. . . you get the point. It’s just that people with dementia are dealing with a brain disease. Let’s all start treating it as the disease it is, with love and compassion, and hopefully we’ll find a cure.

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It seems as though ministry has taken on a new meaning of “bigger is better.” Do only the big production ministries and only social media-post-worthy acts of service matter? We’ve slowly lost sight of what daily ministry means to a hurting world, and I believe we’ve lost the personal touch of one-on-one people helping.

I remember growing up, and ministry meant taking a meal to a grieving family or a mom with a new baby. Our Sunday School class passed around a signup sheet for each person to take a meal over the following several weeks to ease a family’s work load while they adjusted to their new bundle of joy. If we were grieving, the Church (both members and pastor) stopped by to pray with us. We were family.

Ministry meant going to nursing homes where we sang and greeted the residents in hallways as we entered and left. We learned to communicate with, and love and appreciate, those who had reached their elderly years of fragility. I fondly remember the smiles on those faces. We were family.

Ministry meant a group of women getting together to study God’s Word every Wednesday morning without going through an entire hierarchy of people to get approval (although we did have obstacles of legalism in leadership at times). We simply decided to meet, took turns preparing studies, brought snacks, made new friendships, and supported each other with the love of Jesus. We were a wide range of ages from young, tired moms dragging their babies and toddlers in each week, to older, wiser women who guided us with their words and lives. That, my friends, was true, God-ordained mentoring. We were family.

Ministry was everyone from the Church piling into an old school bus on a cold, snowy, winter’s night, when we drove to sick-and-shut-in’s homes (as we called them). We sang Christmas carols and delivered plates of homemade cookies or loaves of homemade bread. I remember many glistening, teary eyes while we sang those carols, both from the people receiving our gifts of love as well as those of us serving. It was because both were being blessed. We were all family.

Ministry meant we visited those in the hospital instead of being caught up in running the church like a business. We were taught that we were the church, living and breathing, and we went to hurting people when the need was there. We were family.

We now live in a day and time where everyone is pushing various methods of what we need to do to make life safer, reach more people, reach younger people, remember the elderly, rescue devastated children, and ease the pain of tragedies happening so fast that we can no longer wrap our heads around it. I do realize that things have changed drastically with a pandemic in our midst, but we can still minister one-on-one in modified ways. Maybe we in the Church need to stop trying to assimilate to (and being overstimulated by) the current culture and its methods, which are already being force-fed to us daily. Instead, maybe we should consider going back in order to go forward in the simplicity of serving each other again as though we are family, because in God’s eyes, we are.

“Carry one another’s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the requirements of the law of Christ [that is, the law of Christian love].” Galatians 6:2 AMP

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