I have just returned from a trip to Israel. We visited the Mount of the Beatitudes, where Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount (“Blessed are the poor …”), and the theme of blessing echoed from there throughout the journey.

I have been drawn to blessing prayers for several years, especially after reading Barbara Brown Taylor's "The Practice of Pronouncing Blessings" in her lovely book An Altar in the World.  Then a few weeks ago the Christian Healing Mission blog (healingmission.org) focused on Aaron's blessing in Numbers 6:24-26, and it opened my eyes to the power of that particular blessing. During the Israel trip, I had on my Kindle Russ Parker's book Rediscovering the Ministry of Blessing.

These three literary sources seemed to coalesce at the mountaintop of blessing. What flowed out from there was this re-interpretation of Aaron's blessing, based on some ancient Hebrew meanings and word roots.

The Lord kneel in honor before you
and watch over you;
the Lord make his presence shine all around you,
and give you all the good you can receive;
the Lord raise up his life within you,
and make you well.

According to the author of Luke-Acts, Jesus ascended to heaven while he was still blessing his disciples (Luke 24:51), and Jesus will return in the same way that he left (Acts 1:11). One interpretation of this is that Jesus will return blessing us, and that even now his work of blessing, uninterrupted by his ascension, continues in the heavenly realm.

You and I can join in Jesus’ ongoing ministry of blessing. He returns to us in the blessings we share, filling each word with his life.

Practice speaking these words into the lives of your family members and friends (and yes, your enemies too). Then watch to see what happens. You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, and your words will have their effect.

Now the incidents that made you wonder
and fear --
the slips of mind, memory, tongue --
coalesce into an overpowering force
behind the words this physician is speaking,
words that propel you across a threshold
into a future you hoped you would never inhabit.

The doctor’s words have gone silent
since the first mention of the name,
the label for your unique brand of dementia.
Your ears hear the drone of language and voice,
but meaning is lost in a tidal wave of shock and denial.

Though you feel yourself disappearing,
retreating from a mind boggling threat,
You are here.
You are here.
You are still here.

And after you walk through this doorway
into your newly named life
may you know in all the recesses of your being
that you are light.
You are light.
You will always be light.

The darkness that you fear
will never diminish your light.

The room you are entering
beyond this doorway
has many obstacles over which you will stumble,
many confusing corridors into which you will wander.
You will often feel lost.

But this room also has windows to let in light
when you most need to see,
and little adornments that can make you smile,
and doors through which love can come to stand with you
and hold your hand
and bless the light within you,
so even in this darkest of rooms, you will shine.

The graced journey of fabric from hand to hand and heart to heart, on a blessed trajectory through Alzheimer's disease.

A woman quilts and belongs to a quilting group at her church. That woman develops Alzheimer's disease and can no longer quilt. She has beautiful fabric saved for projects she will never complete. Her husband donates that fabric to her friends in the quilting group. They decide to use her fabric to make quilts for people with dementia. They complete more than twenty beautiful quilts but they need a "distributor" to deliver their quilts into the hands of people with dementia. A woman in my support group suggests me for the distribution role, and after being blessed at the quilter's church, the quilts end up in my hands today.

Ironically, the original quilter, the woman who bought the fabric for her projects and then developed Alzheimer's disease, is a regular attendee of Kingwood Memory Cafe, the nonprofit I co-direct with my friend Donna Composto. I know this woman but did not know of her connection to the quilts until I received them today.

The beauty of this blessing astonishes me. I know these quilts carry the power of prayer in every stitch, and they will enrich the lives of all who receive them. I can hardly wait to hand them out!

Thanks to Carole W (the original quilter) and the quilting group at Strawbridge United Methodist Church for their generosity. You may never know how much this means, but I pray the blessing returns to you.

Photo by Barbara Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

I was looking for a pamphlet I wrote years ago concerning healing prayer, and I came across a service I had written for a lay person to use in healing ministry. At the end of the service were some blessings that I really liked. In fact, I liked them so much that when I re-discovered them a few days ago, I wasn't sure I was the author! So I tried googling first lines. When I couldn't find anything online about them, and vaguely remembering the experience of writing the service, I decided that they are indeed original.

I have copied the blessings below. For the full context, please see the service outline here.  

The emphasis in these blessings, and in the service itself, is on accepting God's presence and power already here at work in the world. Many healing prayers plead with God to "come down" and do something here, as if God were somewhere beyond us, holding back grace until we call his attention to our need. The saints and the Bible tell us that God is nearer to us than we are to ourselves (see Deuteronomy 30:14 and Psalm 139). So, these blessings turn those prayers upside down and instead focus on our receptivity, in the faith that God is always more ready to give than we are to receive, that indeed God's gifts already abound in this world. Ah! If only we had eyes to see them and hearts wide open to grace!

Blessing (one or more of the following may be used)

-----------------------------

God has given you a spirit of power, love, and soundness of mind.
May this spirit now dwelling within you
flow freely through your life,
releasing compassion, wisdom, and health of body and soul.
Welcome the spirit of Christ.

------------------------------

The true Light, which enlightens everyone, has come into the world.
May the divine radiance within you enlighten your mind.

May its energy strengthen your body.

May its fire ignite your spirit.

Walk as a child of the Light.

--------------------------------

The Lord is merciful and gracious, overflowing in steadfast love,
the source of all goodness.

May God’s mercy within you dissolve your guilt,

God’s gentleness within you calm your fear,

God’s love within you soothe your anger.

Be filled with the peace of Christ.

--------------------------------

May the kingdom of God, in all its beauty, surround you.
May the kingdom of God, in all its wisdom, guide you.
May the kingdom of God, in all its power, heal you.
Now and forever.

--------------------------------

Blessed is your body, the temple of God’s Spirit.
Blessed is your mind, the mind of Christ.
Blessed is your spirit, the breath of the Father.
You are radiance of holy light.

Photo by Jimmy Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

​"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

This cry has slipped through the lips of many a dementia caregiver. Long nights filled with anxiety rather than sleep, decisions heavier than a person should bear alone, the constant clamor of questions already answered and blame for offenses that never occurred, leave you feeling empty and lost, estranged from friends, from self, from God.

This profound isolation is difficult to confess, because if you risk discussing it some people will blame you for it. A common bit of wisdom is, “If you feel further from God, who moved?” I don’t know if the people who say this believe it is helpful, but it certainly wasn’t helpful to me.

Here’s something that was helpful. Once when I was feeling this way I came across something written by Simone Weil in Gravity and Grace. “Two prisoners whose cells adjoin communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing which separates them but is also their means of communication. It is the same with us and God. Every separation is a link.”

This image from Weil transformed my spiritual practice and reawakened my faith. I realized that my sense of abandonment could become a way to connect with God instead. I simply let my sense of estrangement be my prayer. With that lostness, that mental and physical exhaustion, I knocked on the wall that seemed to exist between God and myself.

I can’t say that the painful feelings went away, but a new kind of faith began to arise in the midst of them – a faith less grounded in what I felt and more rooted in a Presence from whom there is never any separation.
 

Photo by Jimmy Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

What is Prayer?

What can I say
that God does not already know?
This God who knows my thoughts
before I even think them,
who knows my words
before they reach my lips.

What can I ask
of the One who has already given all,
who has given his very life,
who shares that life with me at every moment?

Shall I invite God to come
when God is already here,
in and through all things,
everywhere?

Then what is prayer?
And how can I pray?

Though it makes no sense
to tell,
to ask,
to invite this God,

I can listen,
receive,
welcome.

Maybe that is prayer enough.

Photo by Jimmy Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

Recently the Centers for Disease Control announced that Alzheimer’s disease is likely the 3^rd leading cause of death for persons over 65, because it is underreported as a cause of death.

For example, a person may ultimately die from a stroke, caused by a blood clot following surgery to repair a broken hip, from a fall that occurred because of a balance problem caused by Alzheimer’s damage in the balance and coordination area of the brain. Or a person may die of heart problems caused by malnutrition, which in turn resulted from inability to swallow or just plain forgetting to eat. And that swallowing problem, that forgetting, was caused by Alzheimer’s brain damage.

OK, I’m with you there. But frankly I don’t see why we have to win this “biggest killer” argument at all. I suppose we need to win it because broad killing capacity is a big factor in decisions about where research funding goes.

But there are things worse than death. And in my opinion, the diminishment in quality of life due to dementia is one of them. The withering relationships, the slowly vanishing personality, the incessant loneliness of the caregiver, the fury of a confused mind, can build a prison for both those with dementia and their caregivers.

Isn’t quality of life as important as quantity? If so, which diseases are the leading “quality of life killers” for people over 65 in the United States? I think Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia disorders just might win that battle. It’s a battle no one wants to win.

I have led a dementia caregiver support group for twelve years now, and I have seen the devastation these conditions wreak on entire families.

·        Caregivers’ health deteriorates from the constant stress, which only increases over time.

·        Families go bankrupt trying to pay for care, because people with dementia often have few other health issues and live for a very long time, declining bit by bit, becoming increasingly dependent, until most caregivers have to surrender care to a full-time facility. These facilities cost $50,000 to $75,000 per year, not including medications. So many caregivers’ life savings evaporate by the time the person dies. There is little to no financial support available for these conditions.

One gentleman in our group whose wife had Alzheimer’s told me that his wife’s disease turned his value system upside down. He said that good news was really bad news to him. If his wife’s blood pressure was doing well, and her heart seemed healthy, it frightened him. He knew that if she was otherwise healthy she was headed for a long dependency and a lingering death she never would have chosen. He said Alzheimer’s was perhaps the only disease that made people pray that some other condition would come and shorten their loved one’s life.

You may find those comments brutal, but I think they are brutally honest. Many caregivers think and feel that way, at least at some point, but would never admit it.

I know I am being somewhat cynical here, but I keep remembering people who would say to me, “At least you still have your mother with you.” My mother had Lewy Body Dementia. At the time people were saying this to me, mom was calling me many times each day to tell me she hated me. She said she would never have treated her mother as I treated her – moving her to a care facility. She thought I had stolen her car and her house. She thought I had basically imprisoned her and wanted to control her and take advantage of her. So I ask you, did I really still have my mother with me?

People with dementia who were sweet and kind and generous before the disease can become aggressive and mean in their behavior as they decline. They don’t just lose their memory, in a functional sense they lose themselves.

Wives have to move their kind-hearted husbands into facilities long before they want to because they fear for their safety, or because they begin to fall regularly and the wife isn’t strong enough to lift them when they do. Children have to hear their parent beg to go home, over and over and over again, when the parent IS home. But they don’t recognize home any more, and they feel lost.

This is diminished quality of life as it manifests with dementia. And it can last a very long time.

I suppose I can’t change the basis used to allocate research funding, but I want to at least try to make a case for considering quality of life in those decisions. On that basis, research into Alzheimer’s and other dementia disorders could eventually be as well-funded as cancer and heart disease.

photo by Jimmy Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

Quite a few people have reached this web site while searching for prayers related to those with Alzheimer's and dementia, and their caregivers. I have searched for dementia-related prayers too, and unfortunately I have not found many resources in this area. Since this blog is titled "Praying the Long Goodbye," I decided to compose a few prayers myself, and I have listed here some links that will take you to a pdf of each prayer. If you arrived here looking for prayers, I hope these help you!

I have gathered a version of these prayers into a trifold brochure -- "Alzheimer's & Dementia Prayers" -- which you can download here. Or you can view each prayer individually by clicking the links below.

• Creator God, you designed this brain ... - A Prayer for Healing
• An Advent Litany for Those with Dementia (a litany based on the O Antiphons, may be used in any season)
• God at Whose Word ... - A Prayer for Healing
• Prayer for Someone (or their caregiver) with a New Diagnosis of Alzheimer's or Dementia (appropriate for the caregiver at any stage of the disease)
• Prayer for a Dementia Caregiver
• A Dementia Caregiver's Prayer (This prayer, written from the perspective of a caregiver, was previously posted on this blog)

In addition, I have posted a more general healing prayer in another blog entry -- "Sign of the Cross Healing Prayer". This prayer is from my book Magellan's Shadow: Faith Poems, so if you use it publicly I would appreciate your noting the copyright information you see on the prayer card on the blog page -- "From Magellan's Shadow, copyright Barbara Booth Hemphill 2004".

Suggested Scripture reading: If you are using these prayers in the context of a healing service, or ministry with the sick, you might consider reading the story of the healing of the man with the withered hand (Matthew 12:9-14, Mark 3:1-6, Luke 6:6-11). Alzheimer's and other progressive dementias cause the brain to wither, neuron by neuron. As plaques and tangles disrupt their function, neurons basically shrivel and pull away from one another. The brain loses its volume and shrinks. This structural, physical withering, gradually occurring over a long period of time, echoes in the progressive outward diminishment of functional ability and quality of life. This is the relevance of the scripture passage for people with progressive dementia. Is it any harder to heal a withered brain than a withered hand? 

photo by Jimmy Hemphill: flickr.com/photos/jimmah_v

Jesus has just fed a crowd of 4000 people with seven loaves and a few fish. Afterward he and his twelve closest disciples get into a boat to go to Dalmanutha. Upon arrival there, the Pharisees ask him for a sign to test him. (Don’t they remember what just happened? Wasn’t that miracle enough?) At any rate, Jesus refuses their demand for a sign. 

Then he and the twelve take the boat again to the other side of the lake. Along the way, the disciples realize they have only one loaf of bread, and when Jesus says, “Beware the yeast of the Pharisees,” they think he is concerned about their lack of bread. 

His response, “…Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember?…” seems full of exasperation. (If I were a Bible editor I would insert an exclamation point after every question mark here – to get at the likely tone of voice.) He is speaking of spiritual things, and they are stuck in the material world. It probably was easier for him to accept the Pharisees’ dullness than to be so misunderstood by those closest to him. 

If you are a caregiver of someone with short-term memory problems, I’m sure you can identify with Jesus here. When someone close to you doesn’t remember what just happened, or doesn’t understand it, it can be hard to accept. At first you may think they’re playing a game, or trying to manipulate you. It takes time to realize you are witnessing a wounded brain at work. 

If you suffer from memory loss, you may have said some of these things to yourself, sounding a lot like an exasperated Jesus as you tried your best to remember something that used to be accessible to you. Now it just stays in memory-limbo, never coming again to the surface of your thinking. “Don’t you remember?!” says the little voice in your head. 

So regardless of how memory loss plays a role in your life, Jesus’ words and exasperation may be all too familiar. 

The good news here is that identifying with Jesus is a powerful thing, regardless of how that identification appears. As an example, remember the centurion whose servant Jesus healed from a distance. Jesus was amazed by his faith, and his faith came from identifying with Jesus’ authority. He said, “I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one ‘Go’ and he goes …” 

In our case, we can say “I also feel exasperation.” (I admit that exasperation doesn’t sound as inspiring as authority, but give it a try anyway.) If Jesus felt exasperation, it’s okay. He’s made it holy, or demonstrated that it can be divinely human to feel it. You’re not an awful person for feeling exasperated, or even for adding exclamation points to your questions. 

If you can accept your feelings, seeing them as holy friends rather than as enemies, you will be better able to deal with what is in front of you – memory loss – in a more patient way. Try to remember that your frustration is with the disease and its consequences (memory loss) rather than with the person – as Jesus was exasperated by material-mindedness rather than by the individuals caught up in it. 

Note: I recently returned from a tour of Israel sponsored by Houston Graduate School of Theology.

The principal reason I wanted to go to Israel this year was to visit the Pool of Bethesda. The inner attraction to that site began a few years ago in a class on healing taught at our church by Dianna Campbell. As we discussed the story in John 5, Jesus’ healing of the paralyzed man at the pool, I had a little epiphany. I saw that Jesus was acting like the pool in selecting a single person to heal. I almost heard a voice inside say, “I AM the healing pool.”

Then the story began to haunt me, so I did a little research and a lot of meditation. I tried to listen carefully to Jesus’ words and I looked into the translation of his question to the man, “Do you want to be healed?” I found that another reasonable translation might be, “Do you seek healing?” And this version began to resonate within me.

I have been involved in healing ministry for almost 30 years, beginning with inner healing ministry in 1984. I have attended many healing missions, read lots of books about healing, studied various ministry styles, volunteered on healing ministry teams, trained as a hospital chaplain and spiritual director, worked in pastoral care. And for ten years I have facilitated a support group for caregivers and family members of people with dementia. Although I’m never really certain of anything spiritual, I am probably most sure of a vocation to Christian healing.

But with all this experience and training and sense of vocation I have rarely, if ever, seen a miraculous healing of the type described in the gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. It seems to me these “miracles” should happen more frequently in the life of the church, and I know they happen in some places. If God has called me into healing ministry why is my own ministry (not that it’s mine, but you know what I mean) so relatively lame?

Because this is so frequently on my heart, the question, “Do you seek healing?” has great power for me. I hear it as, “Do you seek a ministry of healing?” And this question was, of course, right there in the front of my mind when I went to Israel in search of the pool.

When I arrived at the Pools of Bethesda I found that the site has been excavated all the way down to the original pool. You can see the steps people descended in the first century to get into the water. However, you can’t get down there now. The way is blocked. I took photos from above and walked as close as I could, but that wasn’t very close. Even the photos look flat, two-dimensional, reflecting my own muted emotional response to the place. If anything, I felt disappointed. I had really wanted to get to the steps and touch the water. Without that it seemed a loss.

Next to Bethesda is St Anne’s Crusader Church, where there is a beautiful shrine with candles you can light to offer prayer. I lit a couple of candles there and prayed for those on my heart. This was my substitute for praying at the Pool. But the disappointment did not leave me.

A few days after I returned home I was at the YMCA, and it suddenly occurred to me that the blocked walkway keeping me from the steps to the Bethesda pool put me in a situation identical to that of the paralyzed man. Like him I had a deep desire to get to the water, but I had no way to get there. Like him I am lame – not in body but in ministry. The paralysis is the same.

This second epiphany has given me hope. I am no longer disappointed about my visit to the Pool, because I realize that something powerful did happen there. I just haven’t seen the results yet. If Jesus is asking me, “Do you seek healing, the ability to heal?” My answer is yes! I seek a ministry of healing, an effective ministry of healing, and specifically an effective ministry of healing to those living with dementia. This is what I believe to be God’s call. If I could identify my “mat,” I would pick it up and take it home.