I have, at my pastor’s suggestion, been keeping an Immanuel Journal that emphasizes abiding in God’s presence and listening for his voice. Each day I pour out thanksgiving for who God is and all he has done. I write down the concerns of my heart. I then celebrate that I am God’s child, and a joint heir with Christ who will reign with Him in the coming kingdom. Next, I write down anything I think God is saying to me.
This last part is hard. My mind gets noisy, some voice nags away that I am just a ventriloquist putting words in God’s mouth. It is not much like a conversation. But sometimes out of nowhere comes a thought as fresh and clean as a mountain breeze. It is unexpected and yet obviously true.
For instance, the other day I was explaining to God how hard it is to live with Teckla’s memory loss. God, as often the case, changed the subject and simply said, “Listen to Teckla, she has much to teach you.” God seemed unconcerned with my complaint.
Everyday Teckla forgets who she is, who I am, and how we are related. Daily I explain that I am Mark, her husband, and that she is Teckla, my wife. Sometimes I recite the names of our sons, the places we have lived, the things we have done, and explain that we have been married 46 years. I recite the narrative of our wedding day.
This week in a rush of humbling insight, I realized God, more than anyone, has experience caring for people with memory loss. Every day, sometimes twice a day, God must remind me that he is my father, that I am his child, and that all my life he has faithfully loved me. Patiently, God reminds of the time I knelt and asked him to save me, and all the times he has drawn close through the Holy Spirit.
I am not alone in my dementia; much of the Old Testament is a history of people who suffer memory loss. Again and again, Israel forgot who God is, who they are, and how they are related by God’s covenant. So much of the temple worship and festivals of Israel were designed to help them remember all God has done and who they are as God’s people. Again and again God pleads with them to remember; again and again they forget.
So what can Teckla teach me? First, before God we are all suffering dementia when we forget who He is—his love, power, beauty, and goodness. We all need to reaffirm our identity and relationship every day. Second, the truth about our identity should be embraced the way Teckla does.
On our walks, I often review things with Teckla. After I explain who we are and that we have faithfully loved each other for a long time, she says nothing. She simply holds my hand a little tighter. Sometimes she stops and turns toward me, searching my face, and says tenderly, “I missed you” even though I had gone nowhere. We then walk on together.
