I believe, help me my unbelief.
That, or something close to it, is one of my unwanted favorite Bible verses. It is how I'm feeling this morning. I do believe, but fear of dementia is nattering at my innards, where God is supposed to live, causing doubt to hover over my head and pinch at my heart. I feel like I'm running on empty...nothing is singing to me this morning.
Fear of dementia is my today's infantile paralysis of the 1940s (now upgraded to polio), the Big C of the '60s (now simply cancer). So many of my near-and-dear ones are suffering from this cursed disease, or have already been taken out by it, and I think of them as the lucky ones. Just yesterday I learned of another beloved one being so diagnosed.
Upgrade your attitude, upgrade your problem just doesn't light my little candle right now.
This is when...this is how...this is It...when we prove our belief...we prove the God we claim really is The God We Claim.
As I sat down to write my post, I felt stultified, a word I have never ever used and plan on it being a one-shot deal, but it surely fits this morning.
And here comes a soothing thought: I need to make peace with my thoughts about dementia...kiss it on the lips...let it be. So I invite the thought that this may be the new path for curing the dread of dementia...love the fear away.
Following my own past well-trodden path to making peace, i.e., acceptance, I embrace the idea that if dementia be God's will for me and mine, then let it be. Let it sprout wings and fly...let it soar...with me and mine riding its tailwind hugging, kissing and shouting our Amen Chorus: Dementia, Baby, we love you so, take us where we need to go...nearer, my God, to Thee.
Well now. Stultified has taken flight, too...for now. Ah, but my God is on the field. Stultified, dementia, fear, you all sit down, make yourself welcome, there is no resistance here. Just love and laughter, God's guardians.
Thank you.
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