Photo by Valeriia Bugaiova on Unsplash Throughout our dementia journey, good times and challenging times have intertwined. God’s sovereign hand means even the darkest of circumstances can dawn bright enough to be a blessing. We also know that even the happy times carry a profound element of grief.  This past winter, an unusual chain of events transpired that reminded me that even those times of forgetfulness and confusion play a part in the way God “causes all things to work together for good to those who love him and are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28, NASB). We experienced this in the fall of last year, and it began with a physical fall—one that only happened because of Tom’s dementia.  He and I had done some Saturday shopping at a local grocery store. I’d had reverse shoulder replacement surgery only weeks before and still had one arm in a sling. With my one good arm, I was loading the groceries into the back of our car, Tom by my side.   As we finished, our grocery cart rolled down the store’s sloped parking lot, and a woman driving toward us honked her horn. I turned around, but it was already too late. Tom was running to retrieve the cart, both hands in the air, swinging his body from side to side.  Despite his panic, there was no emergency; the cart wasn’t rolling fast, and we could have retrieved it. The car, a large SUV, wouldn’t be damaged by its impact.   But a real emergency loomed. In my head, Tom had already fallen and I was calling 911.   And then it happened. He fell flat-out, right in front of the oncoming car (mercifully stopped at this point). Within seconds, I was by his side.  “Baby! Are you OK?” I said as he lay there, stunned.  “I think I am,” he said as I helped him up. I told the driver that he was fine, and she drove on around us, no doubt wondering why he had run as he did to retrieve the cart.  I didn’t wonder. I already knew that dementia had stolen Tom’s “safety” mode. When his fight-or-flight response kicks in, it’s strong and immediate.   But I also knew he might not be fine. But since he hadn’t lost consciousness and had no obvious injuries, I took him home.  By Monday, I called our primary care physician because his pain had increased, and I feared he had broken a rib. It was now Thanksgiving week, and she had no appointments, so her office sent us to an Urgent Care.  An x-ray showed two broken ribs—and a large mass in his left lung with extending fingers to the lymph nodes.  Once CT...

Dear Friends, 2016 has brought its share of good things: meaningful work, fun surprises, sweet family time. But I have noticed, as my prayer list grows, that this still-new year has brought some big burdens. A husband who has left his wife and children after many years together. A longtime employee laid off during a time of family illness. A broken engagement. A young mom whose biopsy came back as malignant. Four young adults and their mother, all diagnosed with the same potentially deadly cancer gene. A friend in a continuing battle with melanoma. A teacher taking time off from work to have a lumpectomy and subsequent treatment. A friend whose breast cancer has returned in a more menacing way. Another friend in her third horrendous round against ovarian cancer. And still more situations involving cancer, too numerous to list here. You see the pattern. And although I can’t do research, provide treatment, or bring healing, I can pray. When I’ve been in a tough situation, sometimes prayers come slowly—or not at all. So I offer this on behalf of those fighting cancer or who know someone who is. In other words, I’m praying for all of us. I would be honored for you to join your prayers with mine. Father, today I come to you with a heavy heart. I have nothing but hatred for this disease we call cancer. I don’t like the way it steals life, kills health, and destroys relationships. I feel frustrated that finding a cure takes so long. I hate to look at the statistics about cancer recurrence and death. But I also know your name is Healer. I know you care much more than I do. I know you can bring good even from this most evil disease. So even though I don’t like to see my friends hurt, and even though I don’t like the way cancer brings so much suffering along with it, I trust you. I trust you to bring healing. I trust you to surround these pain-ridden ones with your loving presence. I trust you to give them wise counsel and sensitive caregivers. I trust you to give brilliant ideas to researchers along with the funds to make them work. I trust you, God. I trust you when it gets too close. I trust you to help my friend and her husband make hard but necessary decisions about her treatment. I trust you to lift up another friend as she cares for her children after their cancer surgeries. I trust you to sustain this young mother as she tries to maintain some semblance of normal for her family. I trust you to lift up those whose lives have taken a...

“Doctor is monitoring, but for once I need prayer that something will die.” My friend’s brief note explained it: an autoimmune disorder had caused her system to attack her thyroid. And in this case, her health would win if the thyroid lost. For once, she needed prayer for something to die. As I prayed for her, I realized what I often do when I’m praying through the needs in my daily #PrayerKeeper posts: this prayer could apply to more than one person and certainly to more than one situation. Maybe it’s a dream that needs to die. Maybe a relationship. An addiction. Or something harder, deeper, and both more personal and more painful. Father, I come to you today asking that something will die. It might be, like my friend’s thyroid, some reluctant physical piece of our lives that needs to cease function. It might be cancerous tumors and cells that, in order to preserve life, must stop growing and melt away. It might be the problem of pain and rejection. Lord, in your might and by your power, bring these things to a firm, forceful end.                                                                                                     Or it might be pride. It might be selfishness. It might be anger and bitterness. It might be any one of thousands of qualities that show our lives are not as linked to You as well as they should be. Cause these things to die, too, God. Burn away the dross and leave the gold. Blow out the chaff and leave the precious wheat. Thank you, Father, for modeling for us that life can come from death and victory comes from defeat. Thank you, Lord, for revealing to us that sometimes things need to die. Help us follow you so closely that we will know which ones and when. And help us die daily ourselves that our lives may be more fully alive in you. In your name, AMEN. Do you know of something that needs to die? Are you in a circumstance that overwhelms or a relationship that crushes? Contact me in a comment here or on other social media or in an email via the link above. I consider it an honor to pray for you. For His glory,...