Beyond healing

"But Zion said, 'The LORD has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.'

'Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.'" Isa 49: 15-17 (NIV)

My mother's Alzheimer's continues to progress. Each time I see her she seems to shrink a little. There are simple things that she used to do that she no longer does. Sometimes it takes a few minutes work to get a spark of recognition. Yet, somehow albeit down at a visceral level, she still seems to know who I am. She would never say my name. If anyone asks her who I am she replies "I don't know". Yet her eyes light up when I talk to her. She giggles with me as I gently tell her stories from her past. She happily puts her hand in mine and walks with me - or kisses me on the nose as I lean forward to her.

Over the last few weeks I have been quite low - my thoughts and faith spiralling slowly round this single question. Do I believe in a God who can heal and yet chooses not to? Because if he cannot heal then he is not God.

This morning's sermon was some comfort. Isaiah 49 - an ideal passage for Mothering Sunday - seems tinged with bitter irony when faced with the reality of Alzheimer's. And yet it brings me back to the cross. My name, my mother's name, carved on the saviour's wounded hands. It makes me look back at the prayers that have been answered. Yet it is small comfort for the ones that have not...

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body." 2 Cor 4: 8-11

The last few days have been quite hard. A series of items of bad news from different directions. I guess that is the experience of many in troubled times. I'm still not sure that I know how to deal with any of it. In the midst of all the bad news though I read the passage above. Paul sounds so confident. He states the case as fact. We are not crushed, not abandoned, not destroyed and not in despair. Perhaps he's right. But I would be lying if I said I was not discouraged.

A couple of times this week I have muttered under my breath "It would be nice to have some good news for a change, Lord." And I know that sounds almost like sacrilege, because what is the Gospel if not good news? But that is not entirely how I meant it.

This weekend I visited my mother again. Yesterday she seemed very low. She almost didn't engage. As I have said before (in my posting the Long Defeat) it is heart-rending to see her slowly slipping away. Today by contrast she seemed happier. We sang a bit. We walked. I quoted old films and made her giggle. She even managed a sentence of four words at one point. It was nice to see her smiling. I guess this is good news. But somehow it doesn't quite feel like it.