Why Alzheimer's? That's a question I'd like to ask God.
Yet, as devastating as that illness is, it did teach me a fascinating lesson about God's perfect engineering as Dad's memory faded and he was slipping away.
I learned that the heart is truly a place separate from the mind. I learned that the mind (or brain) may fail, but what remains mysteriously intact is the heart and I don't mean the organ pumping blood but that warehouse of our feelings, our attitudes, our ideals and, ultimately, our soul.
I learned this as Dad gave and received that equally hard-to-define commodity called love. He followed through on his promise never to forget me, and he gave me the assurance that he had trusted Jesus. These are hard concepts to communicate when ones verbal skills are declining, and yet because of his heart he communicated them to my satisfaction, a lasting gift that I hold dear.
This lesson reminds me that God's plan is perfect. As we discuss in this issue of On Mission, God provides us with the family that's just right for each of us. Sure, some people wonder why God gave them this grandparent or that in-law, but ultimately He knows best. His family combinations have an eternal reason, even if they seem difficult and challenging at times.
Perhaps we learn about the Lord from our parents. Or as parents we're given the opportunity to share His gift of love with our children and grandchildren. These are awesome responsibilities.
But God provides the way. Even when communication is a challenge (and at what age or stage in life is that not true?!). He levels the playing field by giving us connections via that mysterious place called the heart. In families, it's often a more intimate connection than with friends.
I was blessed with two parents who knew Jesus as their Savior and taught me about Him. I've seen glimpses of my heavenly Father in their hearts as they extended to me love when I wasn't lovable and provisions I could never earn for myself.
Dad, an engineer himself, would be pleased with how neatly these lessons fit together for my mother, my brother and myself. Dad liked things that worked. And, like all fathers, he wanted to be heard. I've decided to take to heart one of his last bits of fatherly advice: Don't worry so much.
You're right, Dad. I'll work on that.
Carolyn Curtis, editor, On Missionccurtis@namb.net