Smile

No smile is so candid as that of a man or woman with Alzheimer's disease. To look full in the smiling face of one who has been robbed of higher function is to glimpse a soul now unblemished by pretense. Stripped of sophistication, their smiles often mask confusion, but sometimes radiate a young child's joy.
This morning from my place in the choir I watched Gene stretch an enthusiastic hand out to greet Phyllis as he made his way up the aisle ahead of his faithful wife Kay. A sweet grin spread across his face, testifying to his recollection that God's house is a good place to be, in fellowship with others.
We opened our books to sing and I caught the eye of Judy, whose powerful soprano voice has been silenced by this awful illness. Delight registered on her face as she seemed to recall from somewhere in the depth of her being the breath before the first note.
When the trinity of body, mind and spirit is broken, when the mind goes, we often say the person is gone. Truly, the person we knew is in the process of going, and it is agony for the family. But those smiles are postcards to those left behind, reminding us that the ones we love will one day repossess their minds in the new heaven and earth.
Surely the God who knit us together in the womb retains the pattern of our being and will restore us to health, as he did his own Son.