Usually, I can't remember what I did yesterday or had for breakfast in the morning. I'm sure the questions get old with the people I was with all day of "what did we do today?" I've HATED not having my memory. Thankfully, I have wonderful friends and family that can remind me "Remember, we were at the mall" or whatever, and usually, the memories come back to me. They have all been so gracious and loving to me throughout this time of not being able to remember even simple things. Last Sunday after a lovely service at church, I couldn't remember where I had parked my car. I had driven around for a spot at the hotel for about 20 minutes (very rare) but couldn't remember how I had actually gotten into the church that morning. One of my lovely friends took me in her car and drove me around until we found my car so I could go over to her place for lunch. Again, lovely and wonderful friends to love me through this. Although I have been warned by the doctors about my memory being very sporadic and possibly never coming back, a few things in the past month have left me SPEECHLESS. A few weeks ago, I remembered a guys name who was only a friend of a friend on Friday mornings at the DH from the Friday that I met him until the next week. I hadn't seen him since the previous Friday when we met, but he walked into the house and I said "Hi Paul". As his name came out of my mouth I almost started to cry. That may not seem like a big milestone to anyone else, but the event was HUGE for me. I remembered a guy's name! Thinking back to the event now, I still tear up. My memory is coming back!
One of the biggest blessings of the stroke in retrospect has actually been my loss of memory when it comes to clients. Not being able to remember the details of their horrific stories has become a blessing to me because I don't feel like I am taking them home with me. What (was) looked at as a curse before has become a blessing. A couple of weeks ago, I was remembering the details of a clients story well on to later that evening and the next day. She only had flip flops for footwear. That might not seem like such a big deal, but as a woman living in a city that is about to get very cold and who has lots of shoes, it was disturbing to me to still be thinking about it much later. As I reflect back, why is this one client sticking with me above and beyond the rest? What am I supposed to do for her that we haven't already done? The only answer I've come up with thus far is to pray. I can't do anything other than intercede for her, knowing that God has to do something for her instead. That's incredibly humbling. It's not my job to fix it. Although there is a human element to her story that I just want to do something, it's not my role as her counselor to "fix" anything. That's just another place where I have to swallow my pride, knowing that God wants to meet her needs some other way. Apparently, my role in her life now is just as an intercessor. But the fact that I can remember parts of her story still now makes me rejoice that I'm getting my memory back. What has been seen as a curse and ill-effect of the stroke has become a blessing that it is returning. Now that my memory is returning, I have to find a way of adjusting remembering the clients and their stories to a way of remembering them, but not taking them home with me and letting it effect me later. This is going to be very hard work, and maybe much harder than not remembering. So stay tuned for updates on that as well in coming weeks!
Love,
Amy Christine
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