My mom has dementia, and although she is functioning to some degree, she isn't able to do what she used to do including simple tasks most people would take for granted. She also doesn't think she needs any help. But the progression of her disease is inevitable barring a medical breakthrough or divine intervention. My dad has gotten more frail this past year, and the weight of helping my mom has taken its toll when he is already dealing with his own health issues. I wish he had an outlet to express what he is feeling deep down because I am sure he is grieving. But given his age and background, opening up is probably not the easiest to do. He is only willing to say but so much before it becomes overwhelming. These changes seem more pronounced compared to the last time I saw them. This was also the first time I said goodbye to my parents wondering how many more times I would be able to see them in this life., and it hit me hard.
As we were driving home, I grieved for my parents. Dementia is so cruel because it robs a person from the inside out, and it inflicts such loss, not just on the sufferer but on the surrounding family too. But as I was praying, I asked myself - is this life and its eventual deterioration all my parents have to look forward to? And as I asked the Lord to comfort us, the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism came to mind:
What is your only comfort in life and in death?As providence would have it, a few Sundays after returning home, my pastor preached a sermon on this very catechism question and answer. While this is not Scripture, it encapsulates so many scriptural truths and the blessings and security they bring. It speaks of the unmerited love of God that would save sinners at the cost of the blood of Jesus. It speaks of full forgiveness of sins and deliverance from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God. It speaks of a loving Father who will not let a single one of his children fall through the cracks and that all things work together for our salvation. So whether in life or death or in the face of dementia, we are not left to fend for ourselves, but we belong to a faithful Savior. And in the end, we will be with him forever, fully healed from every effect of the fall.
Since that sermon, I've returned to these words again and again as I pray for my family. I can't think of any source of lasting comfort unless we find it in God and the hope of our salvation. Your situation may be different than mine, but I hope you will draw comfort from these words as well.
Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.