Stage 5 of Alzheimer’s – Early Dementia

As told by Reverend G …

As I practice my A B Cs, I think of my little boy, Jacob. He is … I don’t know … about eight or ten now.

No, I saw him just this morning, and he is grown with a wife. What is her name?

Hebrews 13-5bI cannot find my shoes, even though I took them off just a few minutes ago. This morning, someone had to help me tie them. I forgot how to make the bunny ears go inside each other. Such a strange forgetting.

At least I have not forgotten God. I know he is with me each day and throughout every moment of my waking and sleeping hours. I know this because he promised this and he always keeps his promises.

I will never, never fail you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5b).

Perhaps I have failed him in the past. I don’t remember. But that doesn’t matter. He loves me even in my forgetfulness, even in this dreaded journey through dementia and Alzheimer’s.


And no matter how much worse it gets, he will never fail to stay beside me.


I wish I could remember what I had for lunch. It bothers me, because I’m not sure I even ate lunch.

Doc Sanders or some medical person wants me to eat more, because he says I’m too thin. But how can I eat if I can’t remember what to do with food?

This is a quandary. I never expected to have this problem in my life. I wonder if I will feel better about it tomorrow.

I wonder what day it is tomorrow. Somewhere I have a calendar with little squares marked off for each day and a pretty picture at the top. Maybe I will look for that after supper.

Thank you, God, for being with me – even now – as I try to remember my lunch and search for my calendar. Thank you for being timeless.

©2015 RJ Thesman – Author of the Reverend G Books – http://bit.ly/1RH27AT

Finding Mission in a Memoir

A few weeks ago, I finished the first draft of my memoir. While I know I will add more pages – when the future unfolds itself – I feel a sense of accomplishment.

I wrote it because I wanted to leave some type of legacy for my beloved son.memoir

I wanted him to know about a time in history when we weren’t afraid to leave our houses unlocked and our cars warming up without a driver – a time when life was rich and full even without the internet and all the gadgets that control our lives today.

I wanted my son to know why I do some things – what happened in my past and how that affects me today.

And I wanted a truth-telling of our personal history so that he can someday read it and understand more of his own past.

It’s important to pass on these types of books to our children and grandchildren. The history books will not tell them how their great-great grandmother’s house smelled of green beans cooked in homemade lard.

The experts of economy will not tell this generation how we lived with cash only and saved money by buying only what we needed.

Social media will not explain how we trusted in God through tornadoes, recessions and wars.

Our children can only hear these stories from those who lived them.

I want my son to know exactly how God has faithfully taken care of us throughout the years – the miracles that have happened to keep us fed and secure with a roof over our heads.

Through the pages of my memoir, I want him to walk with me through our personal history and discover more of the miraculous within the every day.

I encourage you, my readers, to transcribe your own memoirs – to write down the stories you want your children to know about, the tales that tell your history.

Savor them as you write them. They will remind you, too, of how God has blessed you and brought you through this earthly life.

Start writing your story and you’ll be amazed, as I was, at the richness of your own history.

Someday your children and grandchildren will be grateful that you presented them with the story of their lives.

And eternity will thank you for praising God through it all.

©2013 RJ Thesman – “The Unraveling of Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/11QATC1

5 Ways to Approach Mother’s Day – Part 3

The Woman Who has Birthed a Healthy Child

This is the woman we usually think of on Mother’s Day – the woman who the holiday was designed for. Twenty-six years ago, I finally had the privilege of joining that cadre of women. On November 10, 1985, a health baby boy joined our family. For some reason, my womb suddenly healed and God gave me a child – a man child named Caleb.

“Give me this mountain,” the biblical Caleb cried. My son was named for the strong man who stood up against his culture and said, “We can take the land. God is with us.” A talented boy with musical gifts, he brought joy to our home and laughter to my soul. Shortly after his 21st birthday, we almost lost him, due to a brain tumor. But God had mercy and healed my Caleb. He bears the scars of surgery, chemo and radiation but today, he is strong at heart, working hard and growing into a fine man.

Whether through natural birth or adoption, motherhood is a treasure. I still own every card and every withered flower my son ever gave me. His pictures are posted all over the house and when the tornado sirens roar, the first thing I grab is my Mommy Picture Book. Throughout the challenges of life, the sleepless nights and the scary moments in emergency rooms, I have been honored to call Caleb my son. Nothing fulfills me as much as being a mother. Of all the titles and job positions I’ve held, my favorite title is still, “Mom.”

So how do we best honor our mothers?

  • The greeting card companies make it easy. Some of the cards Caleb has given me are framed, hanging on walls and sitting in prominent places on bookshelves.
  • Yes, flowers are always welcome or a plant that keeps growing outside and reminds us with each bloom how much we treasure our children.
  • Jewelry. I wear a bracelet Caleb gave me with silver letters that spell out, “MOM.” Upside down, it says, “WOW.”
  • The usual ideas still work: Chocolate. A Starbucks card. A gift certificate to Kohl’s or Gordman’s. Breakfast in bed. Breakfast out of bed.

A new commercial on television says it well, and I cry every time it rolls across the screen:

Tell me you’re proud of who we are

Tell me I taught you something

Tell me I did it right, even if I did it alone

Just tell me.