This happens every time I do a speaking event.
Someone in the audience either reaches for a tissue or wipes their tears away. Sometimes, from the people in the front rows, I see tears puddle in their eyes.
Maybe it’s because my topic is usually centered around my mother’s Alzheimer’s or my father’s dementia.
Maybe it’s because I include poignant stories about life on the farm and the way our family dynamics have changed as our parents have aged.
Maybe it’s because so many of us have experienced a life that unravels and we need hope.
Someone once told me that I am touching hearts, so of course – they have to leak somehow and the result is tears.
Perhaps my audience feels sorry for me, although that is not my intent.
I want to share hope and encouragement with caregivers and their families. I want my audience to understand that as difficult as Alzheimer’s and dementia are, researchers are working on ways to detect it earlier and possibly ward off the long-term effects.
I want my audience to understand that the only way to cope with this horrid disease is to hang on so tightly to God that not even plaque on the brain can dislodge His grace.
Maybe people in my audience cry because they need a venue where they can grieve the unraveling of their lives. We all get so busy doing the urgent that we sometimes forget how important it is to grieve our losses – whether those losses come from death, from the destruction of a formerly-active brain or from a devastating diagnosis.
If that’s the case, then bring on the tears – my dear listeners. Let me help you be honest enough and vulnerable enough to grab a Kleenex and wipe those puddles from your eyes.
And let me pray with you so that you can keep being the incredible caregivers you are and find hope for another day.
©2013 RJ Thesman – “The Unraveling of Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/184haSS
Another wonderfully encouraging post, Rebecca. You have the gifts of writing and exhortation, and God is using you in amazing ways! You are a blessing to many.
Yes, it is good to have a safe place to cry and grieve. Thankful that God is everything we need to run the race marked before us. I can not run my own race without Him – oh, how we need Him every hour.
So true, Cherie. We need him – sometimes even more than we realize.
Thank you, Susan. The credit goes to God, and I feel so blessed to be able to speak for Him.
Rebecca, your message ministers to many in a special way.
Thank you, Charlotte. And you minister to me through your gift of encouragement.