Perspective on Alzheimer’s

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Ephesians 4:2

The above verse is one I had known for a long time, and at one point I had even considered myself to be a patient, gentle person. But when my father began to show signs of dementia, I began to suspect that I was possibly not the nice person I had believed myself to be.

When Dad first started showing signs of short-term memory loss, it was something neither of us was ready to accept. He reacted with his own form of denial. When asking me to repeat myself, instead of saying, “I forgot what you just said,” he would say,  “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Having frequently just come from a day of teaching and dealing with seemingly inattentive high school students, I found myself getting irritated. Why should I bother to tell him things if he’s not paying attention? I would wonder, being in my own state of denial. Deep down I knew there was another problem, over which he had no control and which was only going to get worse with time. I would repeat the statement with a little more intensity (Pay attention this time!) feeling my own level of stress beginning to rise.

Bible verses about patience and kindness and compassion only added guilt to my emotional state, which was already being stretched to limits I was not used to. There were starting to be times when my sweet father could sense my frustration with him, and I’d see tears in his eyes. Knowing I had hurt him broke my heart, but try as I might, I couldn’t get a handle on my own emotions.

One day as I cried out to God, “I can’t do this!” I found myself having returned to Square One, as the basic truth of the Gospel came back like a long-lost friend.

Of course you can’t do this, the still, small Voice whispered. That’s why I‘m here. 

Oh yeah, I thought. Duh. I confessed the sin of trying to deal with the situation in my own strength and asked the Lord to please help me.

The first answer to that prayer came in the form of an official medical diagnosis: my father was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. This revelation confirmed that it wasn’t that Dad wasn’t paying attention to what we were saying, he genuinely couldn’t retain it. Still, there were days that even knowing this fact, I felt the impatience, like lava churning underground, disturbingly close to the surface. I continued to ask the Lord for help in behaving appropriately, even if my feelings were being irrational. The fact was, my dad was still one of the sweetest, kindest people on the planet, and he deserved my respect as much as ever, and my compassion even more.

Then one day, in a seemingly unrelated moment, I heard something said that resembled a line in a play I had worked on in college many years ago, triggering a mental recitation of the entire scene. It occurred to me that, had I continued in theater, I would be repeating the same script night after night for as long as the play ran – twice a day if there were matinees. I felt the creativity of the Holy Spirit nudge me with an idea:

Treat Dad as if you’re in a play. I chuckled at the thought.

The next time we were together, Dad began asking me the usual questions, and instead of getting irritated I thought, I know this scene! OK … and playing the actress, I would say my line, wait for his line, and continue the predictable dialogue to its predictable conclusion. Then, when a few minutes later Dad asked the same questions again, I’d treat the conversation like a rehearsal, sometimes experimenting with different inflexions and deciding which one was best.

As the disease progressed and Dad was no longer fighting it, he allowed himself to revert to the level of a little boy – a sweet, adorable little boy that delighted everyone and that everyone wanted to take care of. He was fun-loving in the most child-like ways, and whenever he told his corny jokes that we’d all heard multiple times, we would all laugh together, not necessarily because the jokes were new (far from it) or all that hilarious, but because the warmth of divine love filled the room.

As long as I have been a believer in Jesus, there are still times I need reminding – I can’t do this Christian life by myself. Sometimes I can’t even pinpoint when I let go of the Lord’s hand and started to try going it alone, but the important thing is the coming back. He is more than ready to help, in ways we could never have dreamed up on our own.

Prayer: Lord, how often we need reminding that we can’t do the Christian life in our own strength! Thank You for being more ready to help us than we are to ask for help. Thank you for interrupting our attempts at self-sufficiency. Thank You for being willing to make Your home in our hearts and live Your life through us. We give You free rein, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

19 thoughts on “Perspective on Alzheimer’s

  1. Thank you so much for this insight on how you handled your father’s Alzheimer’s, Ann.
    My mother died many years ago due to complications of dementia and it was hard on my siblings and me but with the Lord’s help we also got through it and hopefully continued to give our mother love and respect.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thank you for sharing this experience, for speaking practical hope to people who are living the daily life of care-giving, and for reminding us how much “doing what the Bible says” and “relying on God” are the same thing.

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  3. Thanks for sharing your experience traveling down this difficult road. It took me awhile to learn to just go with my mom’s Alzheimer’s instead of getting frustrated by it — repeating conversations we had minutes ago or abruptly changing topics. God taught me it was the time I spent with her that was important to her. I am fortunate for now that she still knows me. May God strengthen you; may you feel the peace of Christ surround you.

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  4. The one thing I dreaded was the day my father didn’t know my sister or me. Thanks to congestive heart failure, that day never came. And thanks to the Alzheimer’s, he didn’t know that he had congestive heart failure. It was the perfect combination. God has been so good to us.

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  5. Bittersweet post, I enjoyed reading it…as a hair stylist, doing hair once a week in a nursing home with several Alzheimer’s residents, this post means so much to me…great outlook and “perspective!”


  6. Watching my father in law lose his memories and awareness of who everyone was so hard for me, but unbearable for my husband. He just couldn’t deal with it and didn’t want to go visit him. His once strong dad was truly gone even though he was still alive. Such a terrible disease. He’s at peace now.


  7. God gave me a similar tool to look at my husband with eyes of sweet love when his manner reminded me of a physician I worked with who I felt was disingenuous and stirred up anger and hurt/victimization within me. I put together a sweet composition picture awhile before of the two of us at age 3 and every time I was tempted to fire up inside I looked at that adorable 3 year old boy and my cold heart melted with love. Thank you Jesus!


  8. Thank you, this is quite touching. I have been down this path with my wife. I have struggled hard in the beginning. As I began to accept her illness, it was not as much of a struggle. Today we laugh a lot. 😢 😜 😊 💖

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Yes, laughter is such good medicine, and it can be part of the “new normal” if you decide to make it that. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, and I for one would rather laugh. 😉 Give your wife a hug for me. ❤


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