Hi Friends,

We are having a few technical problems – particularly with our subscriptions and email distribution of new posts. Something happened at the start of the year and we were slow to realize it. Apologies to our writers and our readers! We are going to pause publishing new articles while we sort this out.

Thanks for your patience, we hope to be back to our normal schedule soon!

Abby

I have been reading a very touching book by Rev. Geoffrey Childs called The Path: the Inner Life of Jesus Christ.  In the first chapter (page 22), in describing the Lord’s infancy on earth, Rev. Childs cites Arcana Caelestia 1438, which says that Jesus “attained to the celestial things of love.”  In explaining this statement, Rev. Childs writes, “The celestial things of love are the inmost keys to life.  Every infant is surrounded by celestial states of innocence and of love toward the Lord.  Infants live in a garden of love where the best things of life are implanted without knowledge being involved.  These are the innocent qualities called ‘remains.’  Feelings of love and peace ‘remain’ hidden within us our whole lives.  These ‘remains’ are protected, and are awakened in us by the angels at various times in our lives.  Remains enable us to be truly human and to shun evils as adults, and be saved” (page 23).  (According to my limited understanding, it’s possible to have remains implanted in us at other times in our lives, but the process of implanting remains is particularly notable in infancy.)  

I seem to remember encountering the idea that these strong and beautiful gifts deep inside us from the Lord are a kind of counterbalance to the hereditary inclinations to evil that we are all born with.  I find the whole idea of remains so reassuring and inspiring. 

Some of you may know that our family is going through a journey together, along a road that has taken us all to places unanticipated and even unimagined. My mom has shown signs of dementia for years, who knows how many? Slowly and often imperceptibly growing, often without change or attention for months, and then a leap forward with a telling comment, or outburst, or uncharacteristic action, that leaves us with more questions than before.

After a stint in the hospital due to a UTI (which is a brain virus for seniors) and C-Diff, a dreaded infection that stems from antibiotics, my mom, who is rarely, if ever, sick or injured, returned home with a body much recovered after years of neglect, and a brain that had developed much further into dementia. It seemed that she was dying, which she daily requested that we orchestrate, and which provided the only end in sight that looked possible or feasible. But slowly it became apparent that her body was still recovering from illness, and her mind was not going to recover beyond a certain point. And thus we quickly pivoted to move her into assisted living (which she had often mentioned in the past, certain she belonged there) which, once there, she alternately appreciated and hated. That was over six months ago.

I am currently reading a book called “Travelers to Unimaginable Lands” which analyzes not just the disease of Alzheimers but the relationship of patient with the caregiver. Reading this has given voice to some of my most difficult questions and feelings. Caregivers, being human, cannot help but be drawn into the reality of someone with dementia, unless and until they come to the clear conclusion that the person is not really “there” anymore, in which case all motivation for loving them and caring for them becomes a moot point. So of course we search for the person, we rejoice when we see him/her, and we encourage actions, thoughts and feelings which we find desirable or healthy. The closer we are to the person with dementia, the harder it is to simply have a dispassionate compassion, which is the most sustainable mental perspective of a caregiver who must withstand daily, minute changes in everything from mood to purposeful action, including those that feel very close to being the “real” person!

This article was written by Jenn based on her presentation at the Australian New Church Women’s Weekend in Nov 2024

I like to listen to a Christian radio station in Sydney, Australia, that plays great Christian songs as well as run-of-the-mill songs that have good messages. I am often inspired by songs that they air, one of which is ‘This Is Your Life’ by Switchfoot (you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sx9RcI_EueM).

This song has a message that really grabs me: “This is your life: are you who you want to be?” It’s basically saying, “Look at yourself, look at your life: you’ve only got one pass at it, there are no re-dos; are you happy with it? Is your life what you want it to be? Are you who you want to be?” Time is ticking, none of us is getting any younger; are we actually happy with who we are? Are we living meaningful lives, are we proud of what we do and think? Or are we just ‘fluffing along’, not feeling any purpose in what we do? To be fair, life is a roller coaster: we all have peaks and valleys, times of bounty and times of harvest; if we do feel like we’re just fluffing along, it may be ok, we don’t necessarily have to beat ourselves up over it, the next good thing might be right around the corner. Goodness knows, sometimes we need to have mercy on ourselves, to recognise that we’re in a valley, life is tough at the moment, we’re doing the best we can. We need to pick our battles – as with toddlers, as with our own lives.

….But if we’ve made a habit of just fluffing along, we might find that it’s time to make some changes happen.

I think, too, that we probably reach a certain point in our lives when we find that we can lead meaningful lives even if we aren’t having the best of luck, even during a dry spell. How do we get to that point? The Heavenly Doctrines are a treasure trove of answers for this kind of life thing. For a long, long time, I fluffed along (more or less) on the coat-tails of my historical faith, living according to what I learned and was passed down to me by my parents and taught to me in school. I can’t tell you what changed, but somewhere along the way I started reading the Writings for myself – I’d read parts of them in various religion classes at Bryn Athyn College, in early adulthood, so I was no stranger to their existence, but it had all sat pretty superficially in my mind. Whatever it was that changed my trajectory, changed it for the better. I wasn’t living an overtly sinful life, but I was more grumbly in my head, more self-righteous, more self-interested; I still have that in me, I’m not gonna lie, and those beasts bob beneath the surface, sometimes closer, sometimes deeper, but, on the whole, they’re deeper than shallower.