Transient Global Amnesia

My husband drove me to the airport last week where I passed through security (with some extra attention due to my artificial leg), found my gate and boarded a plane to visit my daughter, something I have done routinely for several years now. However, one thing wasn’t routine this time: I don’t remember any of it. From a particular point on our half-hour drive to the airport until the plane landed in Pittsburgh four hours later I have virtually no memory of anything that happened. My husband said I was acting strangely. For instance, I packed my travel mug containing the dregs of a just-finished cup of coffee, despite his puzzled inquiries. And I complained of some vertigo, apparently. But I am not a morning person, so I guess it didn’t look that different from my normal 6 a.m. muddle.

The next thing I knew, I woke as from a deep sleep (which may actually have been a deep sleep – I am not sure) as the plane bumped along the tarmac toward the terminal. The hours and stories of those I encountered along my twilight journey are lost, presumably forever. My seatmate seemed in a hurry to exit. A few items like my book and my boarding pass, appeared to be awol, but I found most of them tucked neatly into my backpack under the seat in front of me. My boarding pass was gone, but my id, cash, phone and credit cards were all where they should have been. From the moment I awoke, I was increasingly myself and have felt perfectly fine ever since. It was much like coming out of anesthesia after a minor medical procedure. I would pay a lot of money to have a video of my trip through the airport and onto the plane, because it is a miracle that I got uneventfully to my destination under the circumstances.

My family and I have considered multiple causes for this bizarre occurrence: sleep-walking, reaction to medication, seizure, mini-stroke… but (best of all possibilities), I believe I experienced an episode of Transient Global Amnesia, something I had never even heard of before. It may be related to migraine headaches in some way, and I am a life-long migraine sufferer. According to the Mayo clinic, this rare problem is unlikely to recur or to have any long-term effects.

While it relieves a burden of worry to know that this is a benign condition, my biggest emotion about the whole episode is gratitude. God cares for His helpless ones, and there is no better illustration of that for me. I spend most of my days believing that I am in control, that I can handle the small, easy things in life without resorting to prayer or any other conscious dependence upon God. I spend most of the rest of my time worrying about the ‘big’ things I’m afraid I have to manage. But it is all a trick of this fallen world, an illusion of control we maintain to allay our fears, an unfortunate barrier which keeps us at a distance from our Provider. Are we ever really any more in control of our journey, our well-being or our destination than I was at the airport last week? I think not. I can’t even control my own brain. The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs His steps (Prov. 16:9).

I don’t believe this experience will forever cure all my anxiety or rebellious independence, but I do hope it will serve as a touchstone and a reminder for me when I am tempted to forget that God cares for His helpless ones.

And that includes all of us, all the time.


If you or anyone you know has experienced Transient Global Amnesia, please reply to this post. I would love to hear about it!


Related Content:

Another lesson in control and trust from John Piper.
Scriptures about anxiety and God’s faithfulness by Lesli White.
A prayer about feeling out of control from Scotty Smith.

Elder Brother Sadness

How far would you go to know the reality of unconditional love in your life? Belonging is a basic, human need on par with water and air, something every child must have to thrive in the world, something many adults still hunger for. One survivor of the Jonestown Massacre, where more than 900 people died in a cult-related mass suicide, told reporters that it could happen simply because, “We are all looking for a place to fit in” (interview on The Today Show, 4/4/17). The despair which comes from never quite finding that place can also show up as frustration, isolation, competition and bitterness. I think that’s what happened to the elder brother in Jesus’ story of the prodigal son.

 

Most of us can bring to mind a mental picture of the angry, arrogant young man depicted in Luke 15:11-32. Moreover, those of us who are familiar with Tim Keller’s eye-opening Prodigal God book and sermon series realize that the older sibling is actually the focus of the story, and we have scanned our own hearts for our elder brother sin. Elder brother resentment, elder brother selfishness, elder brother pride, these we know. But in this post I mean to suggest that those sins grow out of another, hidden problem that you might also find inside your heart: elder brother sadness.

 

The prodigal’s stay-at-home sibling never left his father’s side. He lived in his house, shared his resources, ate dinner with dad every night, enjoying his own inheritance day after day. And yet, when his lost brother returned to the family, his reaction was to accuse their father of favoring the one who strayed. He refused to join the party because, deep inside, he thought it should have been thrown for him.

 

The father’s response to his refusal is often thought of as a rebuke. Yet his words are tender, his tone inviting: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.” The father seems to be comforting rather than confronting his older child, the child who didn’t realize he always had everything he wanted.

 

How SAD that he lived all those years with the Father and never felt – really felt – that he belonged. And the fear that he never would robbed him of any generosity or compassion he might have shown to others. When I think of the Pharisees to whom Jesus was preaching, it is easy to be judgmental. But when I think of the abiding sadness which drove the elder brother out into the night alone, it gives me a new perspective on his sin and mine.

 

One of the things Keller says the elder brother should have done is to stand beside the Father as host of the party. What if he had understood that all those years of faithful service were never about earning a fatted calf? What if he had spent those years believing he was enhancing the beauty of his own household instead? Might he have taken the same joy as his parent in preparing a huge feast, inviting others to share his table? What would it be like for me to serve with an attitude of giving away what is already mine instead of subtly trying to earn something for myself?

 

The elder brother thought that a party in his honor would have made him feel loved. I often think that, too. (If only I were more affirmed, more noticed, more lauded!) What if he had realized that every day at home was a party in his honor? Might he have lost his fear of never belonging? Every day I live in the favor of my Father, in the company of His family, in the righteousness of Christ, is a party in my honor. O, Lord, let me live each day in light of this sweet truth and never confuse some temporary, superficial affirmation for Your means of grace.

 

Don’t cry too hard for the elder brother; he fled blindly from sadness and fear into sin. But see him with new eyes, as a warning of what we might become if our eyes are not opened and our hearts not grounded in the unconditional love which is ours every day. I have a necklace given to me by a good friend which reminds me, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” I am going to try to believe this harder. No party in the world will ever cast out my sadness, loneliness and fear, but God’s love is able to do it. I want to remember: there is a warm and beautiful place I can never be kicked out of, and I already live there.

 


Some things to think about:

  • The elder brother thought that a big party in his honor would fix his emptiness. What is it that you think would fix your emptiness? Would it really?
  • What are the things God has already given you to show that you belong? Are there ways you could believe those a little harder?
  • How would it be different if your service was never about earning, but truly about giving away something you already have?
  • The elder brother’s fear drove him to pride and selfishness instead of driving him to the Father’s love. What sins do your fears drive you toward?
  • How can we respond in faith to those fears? (Think about things like identifying and embracing your spiritual family, practicing gratitude, creating reminders of God’s love, encouraging yourself with the truth, looking to God for affirmation, etc.) Please share any practical ideas you have!

In the Aftermath of Trauma

Many people in my hometown of Orlando, Florida are feeling the effects of trauma right now.  Some of them are victims or relatives of victims of the two shootings which occurred here in recent days.  Others are first responders, police, fire or ambulance personnel who witnessed the carnage or its aftereffects.  But others are experiencing symptoms of trauma at more of a distance – those called upon to counsel victims or first responders, relatives and friends of those involved, maybe even the community as a whole.  We are struggling to wrap our brains around the idea that such massive evil and bloodshed could occur in our midst.  We are shocked, frightened, grieving, trying to “fix it” or to escape. 

Of course there have also been some lovely examples of heroes and helpers giving blood, offering prayers, providing food and comfort.  This reminds us of our role as God’s children, entering the scene of tragedy as Jesus did to bring the hope of redemption. We cannot not lose sight of God’s goodness, but, at the same time, we should not use that truth to dismiss others’ pain, jumping too quickly to a hope that many cannot yet feel.

Part of the healing that needs to be done is to allow ourselves and others to talk, to grieve, to feel our own feelings, whatever they may be.  Be kind to yourself and others right now.  We won’t always feel this way, but part of moving forward is living in the present, acknowledging whatever may be, telling the stories and validating the pain.  To that end, I offer the following handout which you can download, print or copy for others.

Trauma Recovery Handout

May you struggle well and heal in God’s time.