The Mourner's Blessing of Intimacy 

Since I had watched Alzheimer’s disease relentlessly strip my own mother of her memories and her identity, I could definitely relate when hearing Helen’s story. Helen, a working single parent, had been sharing a house with her elderly mother for a number of years when she began to notice a subtle change occurring in the older woman’s behavior. Linens, then money and other household items were continually reported missing. Tension mounted as the senior’s accusations were hurled at Helen’s teenage daughter.

"People were not as aware of Alzheimer’s ten or fifteen years ago as they are today, Helen states, recalling the episode. "At first we passed it off simply as forgetfulness, but after a while we had to admit that something much more serious was going on."

The following years witnessed a continued and rapid decline in the elder’s ability to distinguish between reality and imagination.

Tragedy rarely finds anyone prepared for its unannounced arrival. Helen was no exception. She reminisces, "It was like being thrown without warning into the middle of something horrible…something you never even knew existed."

Eventually, she came to fear for their safety. While she slept, her mother often roamed the house during the night. Helen would awaken some mornings to discover the front door unlocked and open wide to possible intruders. Sometimes the gas stove was left blazing with flammable objects placed innocently nearby and half prepared meals abandoned.

"Some days I couldn’t make it to work. I was afraid to go and leave her alone," Helen recalls. The frequent absences led to dismissal from her job and the mounting stress was taking a heavy toll.

I visited the family when possible during that period of time, offering what little support I could. Usually it consisted of just providing a listening ear as Helen’s complaints overflowed. On one particular occasion, however, I immediately noticed a change in Helen’s demeanor as she opened the door to greet me. She was light-hearted--smiling. Gone were the worried frowns. The transformation in her countenance was as different as day from night.

"What happened to you?" I questioned with unmasked curiosity.

"I go in there," she smiled, pointing to her bedroom. "I worship and pray and cry out to God for help." She continued, "He meets me there. He really is the Comforter," she concluded excitedly.

The newfound tranquility in Helen’s life was undeniable. Family, friends and church members were all astonished at the metamorphosis. As a result, a small Bible study evolved in her home.

Helen remained the primary caregiver for her aged parent for a number of years. The experience truly marked a turning point in her personal relationship with the Lord. Others in need of encouragement began seeking her out. She clearly attested to all, that even the bitterest travail can give birth to a richer walk with God.

In Luke 22:28, Jesus spoke concerning His disciples: "You are those who have stood by me in my trials." Few know us better than those who have seen our tears. Few are dearer than those who have walked with us through hardship. To them we are bonded--often for a lifetime.

As God journeys with us through the desert places of our lives, we will come to know Him, and love Him in a deeper way. "Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?" (Song of Sol. 8:5). In the wilderness of our sorrows we can learn to lean upon the Lord. We can lean confidently, as we discover He is a trustworthy. We can lean devotedly, as He becomes our first love. Such intimacy will yield a life of abundant fruitfulness.

None of us will ever solicit life's heartaches. Nor will we eagerly enter into the valley of weeping. But as the little child, we can discover that pain uniquely positions the mourner for marvelous blessings.