There is something almost childlike about dementia.

Not childish—but innocent.

You still see the woman who raised you, worked, loved, sacrificed, and carried a family. But somewhere beneath that familiar face, you begin to see traces of the little girl she once was.

The older she becomes, the more I find myself becoming the parent.

My dad once said, “In some ways, you’re an adult once… but a child twice.”

Those words have never left me.

I understand them now.

There are moments when judgment becomes clouded. The world no longer feels as clear as it once did. The ability to recognize danger fades, while compassion often remains untouched.

One day my mother invited a homeless woman into her home simply because the woman knocked on the door and said she was hungry.

As her daughter, I immediately saw the risk.

I saw everything that could have gone wrong.

But my mother…

She saw someone who needed to be fed.

And in that moment, I couldn’t help but remember the words of Jesus:

“I was hungry and you gave me something to eat… Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

My mother’s illness may have changed how she understands the world, but it never changed the heart God placed within her.

She has never stopped giving.

Perhaps that is why this disease is so complicated.

As her family, we see vulnerability.

She sees opportunity to serve.

So we become the protectors—not because we want to change who she is, but because we want to preserve the goodness that has always lived inside her.

And maybe that is one of the greatest gifts a parent can leave behind.

Not money.

Not possessions.

But a legacy so deeply rooted in love that even when memories begin to fade… kindness remains.

That legacy has been passed down.

Today, I find myself protecting the very woman who taught me to love people first.

And maybe that’s what coming full circle looks like.

She spent a lifetime keeping me safe.

Now it’s my turn to keep her safe… while honoring the beautiful heart that taught me how to serve in the first place.