God in the Memory Support Unit
My mother-in-law and I have had a complicated relationship over the years. She has hurt me and I have hurt her. I have said things I regret and I imagine she has too. She has taken care of me when I was struggling and I have taken care of her. Yet, in spite of the tears, anger and frustrations, we both have done our best to keep on loving each other even when it was really, really hard.
Over the past decade or so, our relationship had begun to slowly improve ... and then Joan was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Since then, it has been a heartbreaking journey through mild forgetfulness, angry denial, car key debates, bitter resentment, a nasty fall, nursing care, and finally a move to memory support where she currently lives in blessedly pleasant confusion.
She rarely recognizes me now and conversations have become increasingly challenging, so a few months ago I decided to start bringing my guitar to our visits. I know a handful of chords and can sing mostly on tune. I’m not destined for a Grammy, but I do love to play and sing. And, I figure what better place to perform than a memory support unit where they’ll likely forget all of my mistakes!
Last Tuesday I played for the residents. Some sat and listened, some sang along, some wandered about, and I may have even caught a glimpse of Joan tapping her toe every now and then. When I finished, I went over to talk with Joan for a few minutes and asked what she was going to be up to for the rest of the afternoon. She said, “Well, I think Sharon is bringing her guitar, but I haven’t seen her yet. Do you know if she is still coming?” I paused and took a deep breath.
A moment later, another resident came over and ever so gently said, “Thank you so much for coming…but you know, sometimes you were just a little off.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If my singing was only “sometimes” off I consider that to have been a huge success!
Before I could even begin to process these two interactions, however, another woman rolled up in her wheelchair and said, ”Oh, dearie, thank you for playing. You sing so beautifully… so very beautifully!” Well, I’ll be durned…
Three different perspectives on the exact same moment - forgettable, “slightly off” and beautiful. What a powerful, sacred reminder that even when we share the same moment, we may each experience it quite differently.
Rather than seek to honor our different experiences; however, we all too often jump to conclusions, make assumptions, get defensive, and pronounce judgements. We mistakenly believe that our own perspective is the sole truth and fail to respect the lived experience of others.
We have become shockingly quick to anger and slow to forgive. We have bought into the myth that insults are acceptable, anger shows loyalty, and empathy is weakness. We act as though neighbors who do not share our perspective are not worthy of basic respect, kindness and certainly not love.
Yet love is our sacred calling - regardless of political affiliation, vaccination status, nationality, race, religion, gender identity, income, memory needs or any other difference that threatens to derail us from our call.
The good news is that because we are each made in the image of a God who is “gracious, merciful, slow to anger, quick to forgive, and abounding in steadfast love,*” we each have the capacity to be gracious, merciful, slow to anger, quick to forgive and abounding in steadfast love. Living into this call to love as God loves is a lifelong journey to which we must recommit ourselves each and every day.
Last Tuesday on the memory support unit, God reminded me that whether our fumbling attempts to show love are met with confusion, criticism or affirmation, we persevere. We honor our differences. We love our neighbor. We love our enemies. Even when it is really, really hard.
* Jonah 4:2