The red lights flashed against my window as I watched the ambulance pull away from the curb; this would be the third time my grandmother (Mama) broke a rib from a fall. However, this night would change our lives, for it would be the last time she lived in our home.

A few days before her last accident, she spent hours hosing down the house because she saw insects crawling all over the walls. The day before, she danced with the animated show Dora the Explorer. Thinking the illustrated girl was real, she blew kisses at the screen and danced.

Alzheimer’s had taken over Mama’s mind.

Mama lived a difficult life. Her mother gave her up for adoption to repay a debt. Although she lived near her family, she was never a part of them. Mama’s adopted mother raised her with a heavy hand and a stiff Bible. Despite that, her adoptive parents took her to church and ingrained a love of Scripture that stayed with Mama throughout her life.

 At 19, she married my grandfather, a butcher by trade, but he abandoned her several times for other women. His affairs forced my grandmother to work several jobs to provide for their three children. In the 50s, she moved the family to New York, plugged into a church, supported her pastors financially, and became a prayer warrior. Often, she became a resource for people looking for advice and comfort.

A month after she arrived at the nursing home, I visited Mama. I found her hunched in her wheelchair in the dining room with other patients. Most patients stared through me; others shouted, quacked, coughed, and grabbed people walking by. I made my way past them and sat next to my grandmother. I rubbed her arm as she dozed. It broke my heart. I wondered why God had allowed such a vibrant follower of Christ to lose her mind. “How will she serve you now, Lord?” I whispered. “Will she remember you?” I struggled with thinking this was the end of my grandmother’s spiritual life. 

Then, to my surprise, she looked around the room and clapped her hands. With her sweet soprano voice, she began singing in Spanish, “This is my story, and this is my song. I am praising my Savior all day long. This is my story; this is my song. I’m praising my Savior all day long.”  Mama continued, “What’s wrong with all of you? Let’s sing.” She stopped and looked around the room. “Are you scared? It’s okay. I’m scared, too.”

I sat with my mouth open. I couldn’t believe it. Mama then raised her hands and counted the song’s beats as if she were conducting a choir. She belted out another round of songs, which I happily sang with her.

I drove home that night, grateful God had given me that time with her. Mama had remembered God, after all. The hardships of life had ingrained the knowledge of Christ in her heart.  

Mama’s condition worsened the following year, and she died. Then, a few days after her funeral, I returned to the hospital to retrieve her things. Before I left, a nurse grabbed my hand and said, “Your grandmother was an angel.” I asked if she referred to Mama’s singing. Then the nurse shook her head, teared up, and said, “Yes, she sang all the time. However, what surprised us was her prayers. Every night, I tucked your grandmother into bed, stood outside her room, and listened.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I loved to hear your grandmother pray. First, she prayed for your family, but then for all of us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I pray like her now,” she laughed.

I couldn’t help but thank God. Even with Alzheimer’s, Mama shared her faith in song and taught the staff the value of prayer. First Corinthians 9:4 says, “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win.” (NASB) Unbeknownst to Mama, she ran her race of faith and finished well.

Her life is a beautiful lesson of faithfulness. Mama had decades of Scripture and answered prayer buried in her heart. I should have expected nothing less than that to pour out of her even when her mind failed. Why wouldn’t it? Matthew 15:8 says, “But the things that proceed out of the mouth come from the heart.” (NASB)

No one knows what our last days will look like, whether illness comes upon us or we will leave the earth in our sleep. What will pour out of your heart if you find yourself in my grandmother’s position? Politics? Sports? Wealth? Trials? Trivia? Now, think, do any of those things have eternal value? If you answer no, put it aside and devour God’s Word as if it is the only food to sustain your soul.

Someone once said, “It’s not how you start the race; it’s how you finish that matters.”