Lifint the Fog: Looking through a glass darkley

My oldest sister has Alzheimer's. For the past year, she has resided at a clean, comfortable, skilled nursing facility. She is, as near as I can tell, content. I try to visit her once a week; maybe take her a cup of "good coffee," as she calls it, and to pass the time. These visits have proven to be challenging, frustrating, sometimes humorous and always an adventure.

Personal thoughts:

First, my sister is leaving. Not all at once, which would be sad enough, but in a succession of separations. I have noticed her memory gradually worsening as she forgets certain words, what day it is or even how old she is. My sister is not going to get better.

I have learned to not ask a lot of questions. She is aware that things are changing, that things have become cloudy. There is no need to remind her of that, and asking questions is not helpful.

Second, I have learned to enjoy the moment. I have observed that some very simple actions make her happy. She is a more "fun" person now than when her mind was what we would refer to as "normal." She enjoys a wheelchair ride to downtown Zeeland and a doughnut at the bakery. She loves being outdoors, relaxing in a park or just interacting with her surroundings. She can function on her own, as she does puzzles, arts and crafts and plays solitaire.

Third, I had to get over the notion that a visit to my sister was somehow a burden or hardship for me. Yes, it is easier to skip a week, and I sometimes do, but I have learned to "suck it up" and put on my game face. Someone once said, "Don't worry if you miss a visit or two, she won't know the difference." That is true, but I would know. I have learned a lot about my sister and myself during these times. In a strange way, these visits have brought us closer. Looking at old photos and reminiscing about the old days is comfortable for us both.

Finally, I have learned to not ask "Why?" Why did this happen to someone I love? How bad will things get? When will she not recognize me? And, the most haunting question, will I someday suffer from Alzheimer's?

A few days ago, as I was leaving her care facility, my thoughts went to a Bible verse, which spoke, in part, to my confusion. "Now we see a dim likeness of things. It is if we were seeing them in a foggy mirror. But someday we will see clearly. We will see face to face. What I know is not complete, but someday I will know completely. Just as God knows me completely." — I Corinthians 13:12 (NIR version).

I find it interesting that the Apostle Paul wrote this verse in the context of a chapter on love. And that, after all, makes these weekly visitis to my sister more meaningful. Without love, this time would be just another obligation; like attending church out of obligation or habit instead of with a desire to worship the Lord.

Even though I can't understand "fully" as Paul writes, I can look forward to a time when the "mirror" will be "clear."

Charles Tindley (1851-1933) was not only one of the leading African American pastors of the Methodist church at the turn of the 20th century, he was also a well-known hymn writer. During a difficult period in his life, he pinned the words to the hymn "We Will Understand it Better By and By." Verse three states, "Trials dark on every hand, and we cannot understand, all the ways of God would lead us, to that blessed promised land: but he guides us with his eye, and we'll follow till we die, for we'll understand it better by and by."

Tindley seemed to write these words to a confused people; folks with dirty mirrors, foggy memories and a degree of confusion. But that is all going to change. Someday it will be morning again (Psalm 30:5). We will experience clear vision, and we "will tell the story how we overcome."

I look forward to that day as my sister and myself experience "a land of perfect day, when the mists have rolled away" and our mirror is clear indeed.

— Dan Van Ommen is a Zeeland resident and a member of the Reformed Church in America. Contact him at dan.vanommen@gmail.com.