Faith is All That Remains in The End

I haven’t talked to her in almost two months and for good reason. Our last conversation was so depressing that it took me two days to recover. Not that I blame her for any of it. Living with and caring for someone with dementia at 88 is hard, especially if your own health is failing as well. My mood wouldn’t be much different. Still, I have found myself putting off that phone call for weeks until one Sunday, having just finished a long-distance run I decided to ring her (hoping there would be enough endorphins in my bloodstream to sustain me through the conversation).

It took a few minutes for her to answer and I knew why. The telephone has been attached to the kitchen wall ever since I can remember. Which is practical of course, as long as you actually are in the kitchen. However, if you happen to be at the other end of the house, well…

I listened to it ring until I heard panting on the other end. ”Hallo?” Her greeting is usually a pretty good indicator of her overall mood and it sounded like she had a better day than the last time we spoke. We talked about my trip to England and how my sister’s been doing in Germany. I told her about my job and the weather. She wasn’t particularly happy but she wasn’t crying either, which was a relief. Then fifteen minutes into the conversation she dropped the bomb on me, out of nowhere. ”Have you been to church today?” She used to ask me this a lot and it annoyed the heck out of me but at least I didn’t need to lie. Back then, I did go to church regularly until a series of disappointments led to a season of avoidance. Lately, I have been struggling to return and frankly, it wasn’t going well. Her question served as a painful reminder of that battle. So what’s the right answer here? She prayed for me all her life. Saying ‘no’ sounds like those prayers went unanswered and I don’t want her to be disappointed. However, I also want to avoid telling lies. After a second of silence I replied “no”, without any further explanation. Sensing my embarrassment she laughed and asked ”Why not?” Well, I mumbled, you know, too much work blablabla. It wasn’t very convincing. And then quietly but with deep conviction she said “Don’t leave the faith. It’s all that remains in the end.”

You know how we always say that truth makes one feel uncomfortable? It really does. But it’s not like a stranger staring at you on the subway. It’s uncomfortable the way a knife is uncomfortable when stuck between your ribs. It pierces the innermost parts of your being. It hurts, and paralyzes you before you even had the chance to realize what happened. I had to pull myself together not to start crying immediately.

There is a scene in The Crown where Princess Alice asks her son Philip a similar question. ‘How is your faith?’ Reluctantly and visibly annoyed the prince replies ‘Dormant.’ To which Alice, having suffered all her life gently says ‘That’s not good. (…) Find yourself a faith. It helps. No, not just helps. It’s everything.’ That scene leaves me in a puddle every time I return to it. There is something about being confronted with the conviction of people who know suffering. When a hipster megachurch pastor tells me that faith is everything I absolutely believe him but the same truth coming from the mouth of Princess Alice or my grandmother hits me with actual force because I know that they are talking from experience. At 88 this is the beginning of the end of my grandmother’s life. There’s no use denying it. And man, her life wasn’t easy. When she was only 8, her parents were dragged to the Gulag in the middle of the night while she slept soundly between them. Left with her grandparents, one of whom was severely disabled, they became homeless. Everything was taken from them, their house, their animals, and their fields. So if she says that all that remains is faith, I know it’s true.

And fate proves her right again, because she has lost everything once and now she’s losing everything again, only this time it’s not the Russians. It’s age. Her husband forgot everything due to dementia. Her best friends are all dead. She no longer can tend to her garden or go to church. The only thing that remains is her faith.

As much as her question annoyed me, I also recognized God talking to me through her. I don’t say this lightly. In fact, I don’t like it when people interpret every whimsy as a message from the Almighty. But this.. 

Friends, everything can be taken from us. If not by other people, than by death’s slow approach. Faith is the blanket that keeps us warm when the world turns cold. It’s the hand that holds us when the ground slips from under our feet. Only a fool would choose to fall.