Today, I had the privilege of spending some time with the residents of a nursing home in my neighborhood.
My job, along with my friend and neighbor Anne, is to come up with craft/baking projects that 10-15 people can do at a time. This was my first time meeting them, learning their names and watching their personalities. And I couldn’t help smiling and giggling. I loved every single minute of it.
The picture above is one lady’s example of our first project – name tags. She was one of about three who were still able to write their own names. Not only is her penmanship remarkable (especially with Parkinson’s Disease) but she also drew the detailed flower, butterfly and leaves at the top. I couldn’t help it – I was so impressed that I asked her to hold it up for me so I could take a picture. Beautiful.
As I said, very few of the ladies could write their own names, but they could spell and I would write them down. Oh, did they love to see those names in print! Frowns turned upside down when they saw their names written and spoken out loud. Bonus – the name tags were attached to lanyard “necklaces” that they got to wear around their necks! So pretty!
Though so much is physically diminishing, their hearts and souls are intact. It was easy to imagine the personalities around that table in years past. Bossy Gloria. Chatty Juanita. Sullen Josephine. Quiet Virginia. Animated Pat. Sweet Dora. Funny Erlene. Worried Fione. Artistic Theng. All with characteristics as different as their names and faces. And every single one of them – beautiful!
Most of the conversations around the table didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Dementia and Alzheimer’s were the unwelcome guests, stealing short term memories and logical thoughts. Every woman there was dealing with her own battles against time and it’s partner, age. The years have had their way with their bodies and minds.
But the telltale sign that these “girls'” hearts and souls were as young as ever was when the music began playing and we started singing old familiar songs from their childhood. Sacred and secular. Silly and sappy. The background music and its accompanying music sheets had it all. Conversation is difficult and even words are sometimes labored, but in the presence of music, all of that disappeared. They sang the songs they’d known all their lives like they were teenage girls again.
It’s hard not to notice how childlike they are. Simple, repeated questions. No venal filter. A sweet innocence that comes with an uncluttered mind. A mind where the only things that remain seem to be their most favorite memories – many of those in their first childhood. And now, here they are in their “second childhood” at much the same place they were when they took their first breath on this planet. A simple life, dependent on the care of others. A vulnerability to germs and danger and abandonment if not looked after properly. The hair and teeth are going, neither of which they had when they were born. They need help to sit up, are transported in something very similar to the buggy they occupied as babies.
It’s as if they have come the full circle of life and are back to their beginning spot. So interesting how much the finish line looks like the starting gate. And there’s something very, very beautiful about that.
I saw my future today. I may not loose my mind (though some would argue that that has already occurred. 🙂 ) I might be able to walk until my dying day. I may even have the ability to tell a good joke with my last breath (again, some would say that would be an improvement). But the honest truth is that I am one day closer to eternity today than I was yesterday. I’m reminded when I look in the mirror that time is having its way with me.
But I hope that, as I saw in these ladies today, my soul will stay as young as always. That even if I can’t remember my name, I can’t forget the song that plays in my heart. And if I lose my teeth that my voice will brush past the void louder than ever. May my wrinkles express earned character and may my gray or missing hair be the crown on a head full of cherished memories.
Today had very little to do with me teaching a group of women how to do a craft. It had everything to do with them reminding me of the precious and fleeting gift that life is. That today matters. And that whatever is my priority, my attitude, my outlook today, will be what will remain in me when all else recedes.
P.S. I got hit on by my new 88 -year-old friend John, whose birthday was today. He winked at me and told me he loved me. So I promptly went home and baked him a birthday cake….:-) Happy birthday to you, John!
Psalm 73:26 – My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Matthew 25:40 – “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
Luke 6:45 – A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.
