Memory is a fluid tricky thing. When I was a child, a neighbor found my Grandma Cora adrift in her own neighborhood, lost and unable to remember her way home.
We soon discovered from the doctors that my sweet grandmother’s brainwaves had been disrupted by clumps of tangled proteins that sat between her neurons, leaving the synapses unable to connect.
Grandma came to live with us, and it was quickly evident that she could no longer remember what we’d talked about minutes before.
Scripture, hymns, prayers and creeds were a comfort to Grandma; something I began to understand for myself as an adult, whenever I struggled to see things clearly. Speaking our words of belief aloud matters–and those words stay with us long after other things fade.
This message is an excerpt from “Word of belief” by Elizabeth Hunter in the September 2017 issue of Gather magazine.
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