On Friday I broke in to two Oshawa nursing homes to visit a man and a woman from our congregation. Both lived in Bowmanville but have been shifted to these institutions because of advancing dementia. I "broke in" using a code at one and security buttons at the other, in place to keep residents from a "break out." Once I was in, both places had helpful staff.
The man and the woman are individuals I have visited many time before. They both knew me and both were lucid, for the most part, as we talked. But the old gentleman (he is always gracious) drifted at times. He is now a major in the army, the nuns who run the place are crafty (it is a secular home) and he lost his wife recently (she has been gone for years.) I learned early in my ministry that I should just refrain from trying to correct those who are living in another reality, rather than just being confused in the moment. Sometimes I am simply a supportive presence in life's twilight because change will not happen.
At the end of our visit I asked him if he would like me to read scripture, commenting that he has always been a person of faith. He reminded me that he grew up in a Christian family and fortunately I know his story, the church in Kingston he attended as a boy which no longer exists and the father who was Sunday School superintendent.
I read the passage from Luke 2 about the birth of Jesus and the frightened shepherds and the angels who declared peace. His eyes filled with tears and he offered that it is such a beautiful story, which it is. We held hands as we prayed and then off I went to find the other home.
As we pray for peace on earth this Christmas we can also ask for peace in the spirits of these followers of Christ and others like them.
RE: living in another reality.
ReplyDeleteI have learned that reality doesn't actually exist. When people are living with mental illness reality IS whatever they are experiencing. The only difference is that others aren't experiencing the same reality. At times I wonder what the difference is.
David: You may get tired of hearing this story, but I never tire of telling it. When my Mom was in hospital you and I went to visit her. She was suffering dementia (or as we liked to call "pleasantly confused")plus she had suffered a fall and was in quite a lot of pain. You asked her if you could read her a story. I will never forget her voice: "a story? you want to read me a story?" You then proceeded to read her the Christmas story. She listened intently and said "I remember some of those words" She was like a child. She was thrilled, I was thrilled and I hope that you felt the importance of that moment. She was even more impressed when you wanted to pray with/for her. She was a great audience! I will tell you this story every year or for as long as I remember it!
ReplyDeleteMy Mom lives with Alzheimer's,of which she has never been willing or perhaps able to talk about. In the early stages I unsuccessfully tried to engage her in conversation about what she was going through.It was a place she didn't want to go with me, or others. As I imagined her life, I felt terrified, imagining it to be like living in a foreign country alone and in some way,by talking about it I had hoped she might not feel so alone in her disease. The disease has progressed. Mom isn't truly alone.She has loved ones by her side daily "helping" with the visible needs, but I do pray that in some intrinsic way the faith of her lifetime brings her the peace of knowing as she slips from the cerebral world that she is never alone.
ReplyDeleteYour responses are a good reminder that virtually all of us are affected by dementia in some way. It can be incredibly demanding for caregivers.
ReplyDeleteSome of my holiest moments have been with people I wonder about visiting because they may not remember I was there a few minutes after my departure. In so many cases, including with Lynn's mother, I have received a gift in the intimacy of our exchange.
In nearly every pastoral situation I try to include prayer. My role as a minister is to invite us into acknowledging God's loving presence.
Keep reminding me Lynn.
Thanks for the reminder too that just "being" together, remembered or not, is as valuable as all the active caregiving...sometimes just "being" can seem a form of peaceful prayer...
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