My Spiritual Dementia

My 91-year-old mother-in-law, Audrey, wagged her finger at me, "Kathy, I can't believe you dropped me off yesterday several blocks away and I had to walk all that way in the hot sun. You are so mean."

I hadn't done such a thing, but with dementia, Audrey believed it was true. Audrey's dementia includes paranoia, delusions and hallucinations. Larry, my husband, and I have learned a lot as we've cared for her over the last year. But the most surprising revelation is that, in many ways, I am like her spiritually. I have "spiritual dementia." Maybe you'll relate.

Forgetting the truth

It's difficult for people with dementia to sort truth from reality even when shown evidence of what is real. Likewise, I am faced with truth constantly; some of it I reject. I read the Bible and mentally cast away anything that is not within my experience. I deceive myself by acting as though it's just not relevant to me.

This became apparent the other day when I was worrying about my baby grandson, whose development is behind because he was born premature. Somehow it seemed reasonable to worry and yet claim to trust God. I wasn't living the truth that God could be trusted for my grandson's development. As a result, I was separated from Him and didn't even realize it.

I must continually ask, "How often am I casting away truth?"

Protecting the image

Audrey often misplaces things but blames others for their disappearance.

"Someone stole my hearing aids."

When I find the missing items, she will respond with accusation, "They put them back." She won't take responsibility because then she would be faced with the terrifying truth that she is losing her mind.

I also want to appear competent, dependable and efficient. Some time ago, I signed up to bring snacks for our adult Sunday school class, knowing that I would be on vacation the week before my assigned day. When I returned and listened to my messages, the woman in charge of snacks said that she would find someone else because I hadn't confirmed I could do it.

"Does she think I'm undependable? A liar?" I ranted. After I calmed down, I recognized that I didn't want others to think me irresponsible, so, instead, I pointed my finger (through my anger) at someone else.

Defining my worth

Audrey often says, "Everyone used to depend on me because I had a good memory. Now I can't remember anything. I'm no good for anything." Sadly, what she depended upon for her worth has been stripped away. But she is still valuable — and so am I.

I also assess my identity through certain accomplishments or characteristics. Without them, I think I'm nothing. But in Christ, my value never changes.

Making the choice

Before we started Audrey on a new medicine that mercifully has helped her, she had hallucinations that she was being mistreated or attacked. She would exclaim, "Nobody should treat an old lady like this!"

I recognized my own expectation that life shouldn't treat me "like this." I get angry with God that He doesn't prevent struggles and difficulties. But it is only through challenges that I recognize my need for Him. "For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Corinthians 12:10). Every time I'm tempted to be impatient, unkind or insensitive to Audrey, I can choose God's enabling power to see her through God's eyes of love.

And that's the last thing I'm learning through this: I have a choice. Audrey doesn't; her disease has stripped away her ability to make wise choices. But I'm aware of my spiritual dementia. God holds me responsible. Therefore, in His power, I can choose to believe truth, release my vanity and depend on God at all times — even when life is difficult.