Last week, my father fell and broke his hip. When the call came from the nursing home, my husband and I were about to leave for a much-needed three-day respite. My initial disappointment about abandoning our trip quickly gave way to concern for Dad, who is eighty-five and suffers from dementia.
On the forty-five minute drive to the hospital, I placed Dad in the Lord’s care, asking him to comfort my father and protect him from serious pain.
When I walked into the emergency room, I could see from my father’s face that the Lord had answered my prayer. But the seven hours in the emergency room that day presented other challenges for me. Because of his dementia, he can’t perceive his true condition. A series of small strokes have confused his mind, but his lifelong drive to be on the move is still strong. So, in between the medical procedures, Dad kept trying to get up out of bed. A dozen times I ran out into the hall to find some strong person to help me keep him safe.
Facing Dark Memories. The following morning was sunny and…
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