Even though it has often been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, seldom do I find one that encapsulates my feelings, as well as the reality of my spiritual foundation. The picture accompanying today’s blog does both: In the natural realm, I am immersed in uncertainty and feel so alone; however, God has not chosen for me to deal with the uncertainties of life apart from my relationship with Him. Jesus, in describing the intimate relationship that He has with His children, makes a profound statement: “I am the Good Shepherd and know my own sheep, and they know me…” (John 10:14 TLB). For those of us who know Him as Lord, this provides wonderful assurance and comfort. At the same time, there are less obvious factors that we often choose to overlook, and with good reason: Sheep are not very smart, prone to wander, inadequately equipped to defend themselves, and easily led astray. For this reason, I am thankful that David, a thousand years earlier, drawing from his experience as a shepherd, vividly portrays the obvious as well as the less obvious meaning of Jesus’ assertion:
He gives me the surefootedness of a mountain goat upon the crags. He leads me safely along the top of the cliffs (Psalm 18:33 TLB).
Even when walking through the dark valley of death I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me, guarding, guiding all the way (Psalm 23:4 TLB).
Show me the path where I should go, O Lord; point out the right road for me to walk (Psalm 25:4 TLB).
From the onset of our journey into the “Long Goodbye,” Linda and I, accustomed to hearing His voice, knew that we would need the Good Shepherd to serve as our Guide; however, neither of us had an inkling as to how difficult the terrain would become. Even though Linda has experienced the brutality of Alzheimer’s at ground zero, the cognitive decline associated with the progression of the disease and the wise use of efficacious medicines have allowed her, for the most part, until recently, to be at peace. Conversely, her sickness has resulted in my having to make many very difficult decisions without her input – the latest being seven weeks ago today when I had to decide between her having surgery to repair a fractured hip or total immobilization for eight weeks. Looking back, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that Jesus knew the way that I should take and has guided me each step of the way. Looking forward, I am comforted because He has promised to never leave me or forsake me.
Thus far, the unpredictable progression of the disease has taken place within the framework of a larger somewhat predictable pattern. It can best be described as a circuitous downward trajectory, which usually includes a crisis, followed by a decline, and then a plateau. In all probability, the final decline has now begun and there will not be another plateau. A summary of events in three recent days highlights my reasoning:
Thursday – Throughout the afternoon, Linda could not be awakened to take her medication. With much effort, I was finally able to arouse her and get her to drink some water and eat a small amount of food. However, her face quickly became flushed and she soon started crying from pain. Those symptoms went away when the nurse was able to get her to receive medication for anxiety and pain.
Friday – I met with the Hearth Hospice Nurse and Legacy Village Assistant Residential Director to assess Linda’s condition. Their summary was not surprising, and one with which I wholeheartedly agree.
- From a holistic standpoint, the majority of persons in Linda’s situation do not survive this long. Spiritually, it can only be understood as a miracle; physically, it can be attributed to the care that Linda has received.
- At some point, she will not rebound.
- Her life is in the hands of God!
Saturday — I had a precious morning visit with Linda. While waiting for breakfast to arrive, I awakened her with, “Hello Beautiful, I love you!” She responded with a very excited smile, verging on the border of a laugh, and I could see her hand moving under the sheet as she was trying to reach for me. Taking her hand, I leaned over to kiss her on the forehead and noticed that she was preparing to give me a kiss on the lips. At that point, she broke a long-time promise, “I won’t kiss you if you grow a beard.” That little peck on the lips was one of the sweetest kisses that I have ever received. By evening, her spontaneous joy had given way to crying as I tried unsuccessfully to calm her while she attempted to eat.
Ron Harvard Ministries 