Good morning…
One of my closest friends sent a loving email for Easter, processing the last six years of caring for her husband with Alzheimer’s. She has loved him so well, beyond his last earthly moments, gently ushering him to heaven this spring. She gave me permission to share her reflection with our written word community, as our experience of Easter takes on shades of new meaning.
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What’s So Good About Good Friday? by Martha Tate
Being of a naturally sunny temperament, I have always preferred to skip over Good Friday and head straight to Easter. True confession: I love sunshine. And, bunnies. And, pretty pastel colors. I love our Southern Springs with daffodils and dogwoods and full-bodied Azaleas. I love to laugh. I only cry cooperatively when it’s necessary.
I gravitate towards the goodness of Light. Yet, life teaches us also about the Night.
Good Friday precedes Easter.
Not for the first time, to be sure. But, for the most intense and prolonged time, Good Friday darkness offered up its learning lessons. Six years ago, my husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
The sun sets slowly, most often, in this now ubiquitous disease. It is an unwelcomed gradual decomposition of the sunshine and emergence into shadow. The dark side of the moon.
Loss of memory.
Loss of logic.
Loss of the ability.
Gradual decline.
Grief accompanying each stage.
For the caregiver there is:
Huge responsibility for the life of the loved one.
Panic.
Stress.
Fear.
Difficult decisions.
Exhaustion.
And, the opportunity to learn to see in the dark.
I now cherish this opportunity.
In her classic book LEARNING TO WALK IN THE DARK, Barbara Brown Taylor teaches us the value of walking in the moonlight when the sun is hiding on the other side of the earth. In this new darkness, our inner eyes adjust to the new light of night.
In our dark night, as my eyes adjusted, I began to move through my sunshine preference and into an understanding of and then gratitude for moon-shine.
As the prophet Isaiah teaches us, there are “treasures of darkness and riches hidden in those secret places” And, that God calls us out by our very own names into His love.
When drawn out of the sunlight, I began to experience the beauty of being stripped down to my core, to the parts of my soul that are most essential:
Prioritizing love through caring and caretaking
Trusting others in my vulnerability
Honest to the core communication
Total reliance on God
Friends and family stepped in with a loyalty that would not let go. In their abundant love and support, they kept me afloat. And, walked along side me in the dark of night. They held me when I stumbled and provided their light to mark my way.
Angels with skin.
I built relationship with doctor’s, caregivers, nurses, all gifted in their helping professions. Once strangers, these professional caregivers became like beloved family as we partnered in the care of my husband. Stripped to my vulnerable core of fear, trepidation and angst, these people became anchors. We bonded like a band of brethren, committed to the cause of caretaking.
I am grateful for learning to see in the dark and for all my guides.
While I would never choose Alzheimer’s for my loved one, I hope to always choose the hidden jewels of:
A deeper love between my husband and myself
The faithfulness of friends and family
The kindness of strangers
Authenticity
Abundant love
And learning to see in the dark.
The gifts of Good Fridays.
So, Good Friday is good, after all. I am grateful. And I hope to “always remember and never forget” that the full picture-the whole story-encompasses both the darkness and the light and the gift of learning to see in the dark.
Resurrection.
Happy Easter!
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Azaleas.
Azheimer’s.
Angels.
Always remember and never forget.
I will give you the treasures of darkness and riches from secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord. I am the God of Israel, who calls you by your name (Isaiah 45:3, CSB).
…Sue…
