I spent some time yesterday at the bedside of a lady who has suffered a stroke. She is bright, and congnizant, but unable to talk. Her family has supplied her with a markerboard upon which to scribble notes. They have stayed with her and have honed the ability to understand and communicate with her.

To my discomfort, almost as soon as I entered the room, they left to run a thirty-minute errand. So she and I were alone, with the challenge of conversation. I observed her worn and tattered Bible at her side, and family portraits scattered about the room. For a bit I conducted a monologue about family and church and God, and we had prayer. Then she wanted to write a note, so I handed her the markerboard. With her one good hand, slowly and painstakingly she printed the words with shaky block letters. The words mostly made sense, but resultant sentences were puzzling. She would look at me begging for understanding. I would try to guess her intent, but she would shake her head "no", erase a few words and complete another mixed-up sentence. I've not been good with Wheel Of Fortune, or charades, nor was I successful with her word puzzles. It was doubly frustrating, because I knew the lady had a bright mind. The best I could do was to hold her hand and smile.

I know very little about physiology or psychology, but I know the brain is a complex organ. And with this dear lady, somehow there is a disconnect between her thoughts and her words. I've read about neurons and synapses, and I know that complex proteins serve to facilitate connections. Because of a stroke, and the ravages of ALS, such connections are now haywire for my friend. She does not understand, or even is aware of what is happening. However, she is frustrated.

And I consider my teenage daughter, whose behavior has been quite mysterious, unpredictable, and unhealthy. For many years we attended counseling with her. And I remember a very bright and capable psychologist asking me to consider that K has a condition for which she may not be responsible. Both of our primary cousellors have talked about how our daughter views the world from a very different perspective; that her understanding of right, wrong, and resultant actions are determined by her thought processes. But I never bought into this idea of what I will now crudely describe as a "lack of brain health".

Now I think about this lady at the hospice. Her thinking was ernest. And she just knew she was writing something that was sensible, that expressed what she intended. I could see that she was communicating poorly. I knew the verbs, nouns, and adjectives were jumbled. She did not, and she was frustrated and hurt because of the lack of connection. And somewhere inside her head, the neurons and proteins and electrical impulses were not working as they should.

I think about my K. I know there is a wonderful person there. I love her and she loves me. She does crazy things that make so very little sense. And she makes decisions that burn her, time and again. I'm pretty sure she considers her behavior, even when it is obviously unwise, to be sensible.  She is very unhappy that life seems to treat her so unfairly.  And she is unhappy that I don't seem to understand or appreciate her.  I want to help her, and it seems I can't.

For so long I've been insistant that hers is a moral and spiritual problem. But....maybe not.

Maybe counselling, medication, maturity, and just plain survival will all work to bring her to a place in life much better than now.

Maybe I just need to be her dad.  Not blame her.  But, be her number one fan. 

I notice that Jesus was not in the habit of condemning, or further injuring those who were sick.  He loved them.