I’m convinced that one of the most powerful and purposeful gifts God has given us is our memory. All the more is the tragedy of watching a loved one suffer from Alzheimer’s. I’ve watched that, and experienced both the brunt of things remembered wrongly and the loss of things not remembered at all.
My paternal grandmother, in the beginning stages of dementia, accused me of many things, including stealing from her. She would hide her most valuable possessions, forget that’s what she did, and blame me. At the tender age of 20, I was her live-in caregiver, and she was just my grandma. I made a lot of mistakes and was not really aware of the cultural distance between us – the generation gap as it was called. I made long distance calls that I paid for, but she never did such a thing, and considered it wasteful. I went out on a date and let him kiss me goodnight on the front porch; she called me a whore. I helped cook meals, wash dishes, can from the garden, and took her to doctor appointments. I found things that she lost or hid, but in the end, it made me guilty in her eyes.
I think her memories of me didn’t go very long or deep, and thus as disease progressed, she thought of me as the interloper. She didn’t remember my love, but saw me as the one who had come to interrupt her solitude. She didn’t know that I was there so she wouldn’t be in a nursing home, but would later accuse me of being the one who put her there. She lived into her 90s, and I lived with the knowledge that she hated me. I had gone to help and somehow managed to make a mess of things.
On the other hand, as my mom’s Alzheimer’s progressed, we continued to have a wonderful relationship, although tinged with the sadness of all that was lost. The love between us had been tested, trust me. There had been an early betrayal on her part, and much rebellion on mine. But in my early 30s, she had shown me a grace that sealed the love between us. And in my 40s, she asked my forgiveness for the betrayal, with tears. I know not many people ever get that, from a parent, a friend, a spouse – anyone. I could cry now at the profound healing it brought. We had long, deep, and sometimes painful memories together, but for almost five decades she showed me what a mother’s love was like, and we knew each other deeply. Gratefully, Mom never forgot who I was, and toward the end, we didn’t talk about anything but memories and faith. It was both bitter and sweet.
In our God, we have a complete and flawless parent. Unlike my grandmother, mom or me, God is not human. I AM is unchanging. Our relationship with God may change and morph (gratefully so) through the years, but we are the changed. Our vision gets enlarged, based on a shared past where we have tested God’s character and found a solid rock. If we are bold enough to test, taste, and trust, we have shared memories.
Throughout Scripture, we are encouraged to remember how God acted in history as a way of knowing him; a way of predicting future character. The spiritual aside, a psychologist will tell you that you should watch someone’s actions to see if they line up with the words you are hearing. It’s how we can smoke out a liar. If we read again the great stories of God’s saving deeds, our picture of God will get bigger because God’s words – God’s Word – aligns with love, salvation, truth, justice, grace. He cannot lie.
Take time today to remember, and allow the picture of the past to roll into the future. God is the same yesterday, today and forever. Your outlook for your own Red Sea, or wilderness wandering, or wall rebuilding will get sweeter. Your faith in this big God will get, well, bigger.
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