Meditation Monday - Blessed Are the Vulnerable

photo by Evelyn Heard

For Lent this year I am studying the Beatitudes. As so often happens in a study like this however, I find my mind going off at a tangent. As I read through this list other one characteristics of those who are blessed that stands out is their vulnerability. From my perspective a good overall summary of the beatitudes this week would read “Blessed are those who are vulnerable because God is gracious and is acting to deliver you.” God acts to deliver us not when we are powerful and feeling in control but when we have lost control of our lives and are vulnerable to the vagaries of the world around us.

Many of us feel that vulnerability at the moment and I can tell you that it has really hit me hard this week but not for the reasons you might think. My husband Tom and I are in a very vulnerable position at the moment as he is increasingly challenged by memory loss. It is hard to be asked the same question 10 times in an hour and then be told “I wish you told me this sooner”. It is even harder to be asked “who are you? and “where do you live?” which has started to happen recently especially if we are away from home or, as happened last week, when he is not well.

Celebrating Tom’s 89th birthday last week with his niece and husband.

When we met with our therapist he made a statement that has revolved in my mind ever since. “It is as though a third person has entered your marriage, dementia, an uninvited and unwelcome stranger who neither of you wants, but who you cannot get rid of. “

It’s true. In the last couple of years God has asked us to welcome a stranger into our marriage that is harder to accept than any other. The scriptures ask us to welcome strangers and befriend them. But how do I welcome my husband’s dementia, this stranger, this very difficult and unwanted stranger, and invite him to become a friend? How do I let go of my expectations for the future I would like with my spouse and accept the reality of what is?

To be honest at this point I don’t have many answers. It is something that I need to work on each day, laying down my hopes for the future and holding close to God. As I do so I find great comfort in Glen Stassen’s translation of the Beatitudes - a good version to meditate on this first week of Lent.

Joyful are those who are poor and humble before God, for their’s is the reign of God.

Joyful are those who are deeply saddened to the point of action, for they will be comforted.

Joyful are those whose wills are surrendered to God, for they will inherit the earth.

Joyful are those who hunger and thirst for restorative justice, for they will be filled.

Joyful are those who practice compassion in action, for they will receive compassion.

Joyful are those who seek God’s will in all that they are and do, for they will see God.

Joyful are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Joyful are those who suffer because of restorative justice, for theirs is the reign of God.

Joyful are you when they criticize, persecute, and slander you, because of me.

Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in God.

For in the same way they persecuted the prophets before me. (Living The Sermon on the Mount 39)

The line that particularly caught my attention today was “Joyful are those who are deeply saddened to the point of action, for they will be comforted” In the last year I often do feel saddened to the point of action. For Christmas I put together a couple of books for Tom that share our history together. He absolutely loves them and when he is confused I love to get them out and look through them with him. A couple of months ago we started seeing a therapist who specializes in end of life issues - one of the best decisions we have made. This week we have someone coming to evaluate him for home care options.

It is so hard, this welcoming of an unwanted stranger, but in the midst there is also joy and love and laughter. There is also opportunity in the midst of the mourning, for compassion, and care. I am learning a lot about what it means to “surrender my will to God” and not resent the challenges of life. I am also learning to rely on others in ways I have not been willing to be in the past.

Let me end with one of my poems that is a real comfort at the moment:

God of all goodness and grace,

Let me learn to walk in the dark,

In places where your light is dim

And I cannot see.

Help me to move slowly,

And not stumble,

Attentive to touch and sound and smell.

May I cherish,

The intimacy of your inner voice,

And the gentle love of your presence.

God of all life and wholeness,

Let me learn to walk in the dark,

Where each step needs trust,

And it takes faith the journey onwards.

Le me learn to see

The inner glow of your light,

Behind me, before me, around me,

Within me, in others and in all the world.