This evening I took my three kids to visit Tony's great aunt who is recovering from a broken leg in a rehab center. Part of the facility is an Alzheimer care facility and the other side is for patients who need rehab from broken limbs, strokes or other debilitating problems. Apparently we parked and came in on the wrong side because we had to walk through the wing that housed the Alzheimer patients. That can be unnerving to an adult, so imagine how my kids felt about it. By the time we reached Aunt Joann's room, Marlee was ready to cry and both Jacob and Kaylen hid behind the stroller refusing to come out and say hello. Jacob went so far as to pull the limp legs stunt and wouldn't even stand when I tried to make him. I get it, but seriously. Stand up.
We had a nice visit and Kaylen and Marlee warmed up and spoke with Joann and let Uncle Harold kiss and hug on them- he's another one that little ones' instinctively know they are loved. Jacob I left to his own amusement.
I couldn't help but notice that the poor lady who shared Joann's room, although she was trying to be respectful of the semi pulled curtain, kept fluttering it back so she could see the kids. Obviously ill, she struggled to tell me how beautiful my kids were when we left. We spent a moment talking to her.
On our way back through the Alzheimer wing, I looked at these people sitting around in their chairs many of them with vacant eyes, many with confused eyes. One spunky lady tried to escape when we came through the door. For so many of them, who they were is gone. The person who loved a good joke, or who was an artist expressing themselves in vivid tones and vibrant brush strokes. The man who loved to garden, the lady who raised a bunch of kids and made the legendary banana pudding. But still, in many ways, I think these people will still respond to love, just like a baby. They know when they are loved.
Often I think we put our energy in loving and caring for the "least of these" who take the form of neglected children, but we forget the other "least of these" who are old, poorly dressed, may smell funny, but who still are a beautiful creation worthy of Christ's precious sacrifice. Of course, not every person who is there is neglected or forgotten, my own grandfather spent his final years in an Alzheimer facility and he was constantly surrounded by family. Others, though, can't say the same. And even though some of them can no longer even understand that no one cares or comes to see them, they can understand a pat on the shoulder, a hug around the neck. How their eyes brightened when my kids smiled and talked to them.
The last lady we saw, Mabel, held out her arms to Marlee. For a moment I hesitated, then I placed my baby in this stranger's arms. I wanted that lady, who might not have felt important, or loved or wanted today, to feel the love of a baby, even if it were only for a moment. How she smiled, beaming like sunshine from that brief contact. Skin on skin.
I left that place hurting for these people, sitting...just sitting...nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see. With their back to me, it could be anyone, it could be me one day. Today her name is Mabel, but tomorrow? And when that person strolls through the hall, I hope they will see me. I hope when I reach out my arms, craving a moment of contact with another person, that they too, will reach toward me. That when mother's instinct says pull your child away, that compassion will overwhelm them and for a moment I will get to breathe the smell of a baby, and feel the softness of a baby's love. In that span of a single moment, my soul will know that I am loved.
Matthew 25:40(in part)
‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
We will be back, next time with flowers to pass out and hugs to share. It's a lesson on loving that I want my kids to learn early and to learn well.
No comments:
Post a Comment