Where is God?

A Personal Story about Faith and Suffering

(God says) “I will…make the Valley of Achor a door of hope” (Hosea 2:15)

February 2001

It was 6:00 a.m. one bitter February morning when I received a call that my mother had been placed in a psychiatric ward in Houston, Texas. It appeared that my mother was experiencing extreme bouts of anxiety along with delusions and hallucinations. I presumed the cause must be associated with some type of undetected parasite that had bombarded her body. What else could it be? I had spoken with her just the other day and she seemed ok. However, she lived alone and in another state and I guess the changes in her behavior were not apparent to me and this new news was shocking. Her diagnosis was Alzheimer’s, an irreversible, incurable, terminal disease. My mind swirled as the words echoed in my head.

Not long after, she was released from the psychiatric hospital. It quickly became apparent that she could no longer live alone and therefore, was relocated along with some of her belongings to California where she would be under the direct care of my sister and me. It wasn’t until she came to live with my own family that I understood the overwhelming task we were facing. As it is with most families, we experienced a time of denial as this unbelievable nightmare began to gradually unfold. Feelings of fear and anger quickly rose to the surface and caused other siblings to abandon her all together which only intensified the friction and augmented the confusion. Along with numerous bouts of frustration came feelings of compassion and love mingled with unanswered questions such as: “Why has God allow this to happen?” and “I feel so bad for her, how much longer is this going to go on?” Needless to say, the guilt and emotional turmoil continued as we progressed through this seemingly bottomless terror of blackness.

The issue of financial support rapidly came to the forefront and added to the already emotional stresses that came when I realized that she needed more care than I was able to provide. The disease had progressed to the stage where 24-hour care was a necessity as she became progressively more unmanageable and at times fierce and violent. With sorrow and irrational guilt, I began to arrange for my mother’s assessment and admission to a private Alzheimer’s care facility. It quickly became apparent that there were very few institutions that are equipped to care for Alzheimer’s patients and those that were available charged an astronomical amount for their services; the average care costing anywhere between three to five thousand dollars per month. Weeks of placing numerous calls continually reiterated this terrible news. The options became bleaker when it was revealed to me that government assistance for what is considered a long-term mental illness was also unavailable.

As time passed by and we continued this journey together, the gulf between us grew. She no longer recognizes my face and often confuses me with someone else. This is the nature of the disease. She spends most of her day in a type of psychotic state, is incontinent, frequently falls, and is losing her desire to eat. This begins a new phase of emotional mayhem as we decide the next step to take once her brain becomes incapable of telling her body what to do and she can no longer perform the most basic necessity of life; the simplistic task of swallowing food and water.

In many ways our travels through this sudden and unforeseen journey into Alzheimer’s disease has been a frightening and weary one, somewhat like reluctantly participating in a funeral that never ends. In other ways, there have been triumphs amongst those struggles which are constant reminders of the frailty and the preciousness of life itself.

I share my mother’s story, but it is by no means only her story. There have been those before her and those that will come after whose bodies and minds will give way to the outgoing tide of disease. Though this may be true, what I learned through the six years of caring for my mother was that I could find comfort in the fact that God’s memory is unfailing. I am also reminded that life is but a breath and all too soon we will all lie down in the dust, but no matter the circumstance, God does not forget and is faithful to remember his promises to us. “I am with you, says the LORD Almighty. My Spirit remains among you, just as I promised … So do not be afraid.” (Hag 2:4-5 NLT)

[Sheila R.L. Lopez died on May 6^th, 2008 - Beth Baus is facilitating a free Alzheimer’s Caregiver Workshop on Dec. 12^th, 2009. Visit her website for more details www.ourhealthyfamilies.org ]

Next week: Where is God? ( part 2…Theology of Suffering)