God is Still Speaking…

When I walked into Sally’s room, there was little change. The progression of Alzheimer’s marched on down its deadly path. She was no longer able to walk, take care of herself, or make her needs known. Her words were few and seemed mostly random as she laid back in the broada-chair (a form of modern geri-chair). Breakfast and lunch still stained her blouse as a baby doll, that a kind aide had left, lay cuddled in her old, wrinkled arms.

I knelt beside Sally’s chair and greeted her. Her little-girl giggle seemed so out of place in the frail body that waited on the cusp of death. Her face seemed to shine (probably the active imagination of one who so wanted to change the day for the better) when I suggested that we go outside and sit in the sunshine for our visit.

Once outside there was little to say beyond comments about the weather or how one was feeling. For such situations (when conversations seem to escape the clients’ abilities) I move into a routine, hoping to find something to bring peace, and the clients’ awareness of God’s presence. I played several old, familiar sacred hymns on my MP3 player and read the common verses of the Bible.

As I offered prayer, in preparation to leave, I felt Sally’s hand reach up and touch my cheek. When I opened my eyes, with her hand resting on my cheek, I was looking into her face from a foot away. Sally was trying to talk. This in and of itself was not unusual, for many such patients wish to talk, and sometimes do, in a random, nonsensical manner.

However, Sally’s voice was less than random and it felt directed to me from the heart of God. This is what she said with her hand on my cheek, “Why… (the dots here represent pauses)… you’re troubled… why… you don’t have to be… God knows… God knows… God knows… take care of you… God knows… (long pause)… He knows… You’re a teacher… a teacher… you’ve always been!” She pulled my hand to her mouth, kissed it, and whispered, “I love you!”

By this time, tears were running down my face as I realized, once again, that God had used the voice of the demented to speak to me and remind me of His presence, His love, and His calling. Someone asked me the other day why God does not speak much anymore. I responded that He was speaking just as much today as He always has, the problem is that nobody is listening. God is still speaking to you, and I feel compelled to ask you, “Are you listening?”