Letter #3

Jonathan -

I'm resolved to start writing you on my lunch breaks rather than the last task of the evening. I realize I'm running the risk of not documenting some profound event that happens after noon, but the way I'm currently doing things leaves me a little pressed. I think you deserve better. On a positive note, I'm normally so tired that when I reread the previous day's post, it's like I'm reading parts for the first time!

Today I had lunch with my mom. For the last five or six years my grandmother has been living with her, following the death of my grandfather. And for that same period of time, my grandmother had been on a gradual journey of "the long good-bye" - Alzheimer's disease. Unfortunately, the best comparison I have for it is the sinking of the Titanic. After the impact with the iceberg, everything seemed normal; I wondered if what the doctors had said was true because everything seemed okay. She was a sweet old lady who still recognized me and knew my name. She actually became a little more outgoing than I had ever known her - she started telling jokes and was witty! I wonder what she was thinking then. Was she trying to cover up the fact she didn't know who I was and was therefore being friendly? I think in the last year or so that circle of people she knows is down to only one or two people, if that.

In the last month, she's started forgetting which room is her's and can't hold a thought through a sentence. My mom told me during lunch today that last night she woke up at 1 a.m. to noise in the kitchen. It was my grandmother who had gotten a case of the munchies and went for ice-cream. What she had in her hand, however, was a can of frozen juice concentrate and three frozen sausage patties. That, to her, was ice-cream.

Through all of this, though, my grandmother reads her Bible every day and can tell you five ways God's blessed her. What kind of wiring in the brain allows that, do you think?

As I thought about all this today, I realized (and I'm sure this is obvious to you and anyone reading) that she is slowly moving mentally back into infancy. It's like a large tapestry is slowly being unwoven into its original materials. How sad. My mom deserves an award for the patience and servitude she's embodied, and I have a strong belief she will earn high accolades in the next life. I have found many, many new things to love about my mom.

A very important truth that I've learned over the last several months - and I'm sure will be a repeated theme of these letters - is that God gave us children in part to help us understand our relationship with Him. So when we see our children stretching out their arms and crying out to be picked up, we would know the heart of The Father when we do the same to him. So that when our infant cries out for us in the middle of the night, and holding them and rocking them puts them at peace, we would know how The Father responds to our cries. So that when our children are oblivious to the harmful things of the world and are simply enjoying their parent's presence, we would learn to do the same.

Perhaps it's not just children He uses to teach those things, but also our ailing grandparents? Hmm...

I'd like to know what your thoughts are on that. I love you and will talk with you soon. Goodnight.