Over and over, Mama said the same thing: “Our God makes no mistakes.”
After dinner one evening, Mama—a victim of the hellish disease, Alzheimer’s—was talking. Her conversation was mostly nonsensical prattle—what I called “word salad”—but mixed in with the gibberish was the above statement with an emphasis on the word, “no.” She must’ve said it fifty times.
At first, I scoffed and thought, Yeah, right. Can you hear yourself? I mean, really hear what you’re saying? What about this terrible disease that’s destroying your mind, stealing your memories, and turning everyone you love and who loves you into strangers?
This had to be a mistake. Why would God allow this in our family? Why would He put us through this? To torture my daddy and force him to watch the woman he’d loved for sixty years regress into someone he didn’t know—aging him more than time ever could?
Then the sound of the “light bulb” switching on in my brain made me glance over my shoulder to ensure someone wasn’t flicking a switch.
God spoke to me using my mama’s voice. He can do that. He reminded me that even when things feel hopeless, He is my hope. He’s walking this journey with me, right through the valley shadowed with death. He didn’t do this to Mama. Sin did, just as it is the culprit behind every other bad thing that happens. Yes, He allowed it. And no, I don’t know why, and I may never know. My job is to trust He is working all things—even Alzheimer’s—together for my good and His glory.
God healed Mama. She’s in heaven now. No more Alzheimer’s spider webs mucking up her new, glorified brain. I look forward to the day she greets me on those golden streets. She’ll smile, hug, and remember me. And we’ll shout together, “Our God makes no mistakes!”
Regardless of what you face, remember God makes no mistakes.
(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)
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