A Simple Act

I pulled into a parking spot at Publix at 9:28. I nervously watched the clock. At 9:30 precisely a black minivan with factory tinted windows pulled up next to us. It's go time. 

Lest you think something sinister was afoot, at 9:30 and two seconds, a blonde face appeared in the minivan's window all smiles and eyelashes and my kids simultaneously began screaming, "Ava!!! Audrey!!!" Everyone talking at once, laughing, holding hands, my friend, Jenny, and I herded our five kids into the floral section of the grocery store. Six bundles of flowers in five pairs of hands, we paid, loaded up the car and headed to our final destination: a nursing home. 

It's the place my precious Papaw spent his final years, and it's really a very nice place. The staff was so friendly and welcoming to our ragtag, merry band. We marched in, after instructing the kids on no screaming, running, knocking people over etc, and with the guileless faces of babies, they went from person to person passing out flowers and leaving smiles in their wake. 

It was such a small act of kindness for us, such a simple expression of the love of Jesus delivered by baby hands, but it made a big impact. I really don't know who enjoyed it more, the staff, the residents or us. Those sweet staff members have a dreary and difficult job, I can't imagine that it would be the happiest of places to put in forty hours each week, but they were so gentle, loving and genuine with their patients, it blessed me to see it. 

The staff directed us to the end of one hall where a tiny lady sat dejectedly facing the wall, her small frame bent over in her wheelchair. "She sits there every day," they told us. Her chair was half in the door way, half in the hall  as if ready to make a hasty retreat. She accepted a flower, but only one. I imagine it must be a terrible thing to find your entire life reduced to the contents of a tiny room. To feel your life measured out in three meals a day, and an occasional outing to Wal-mart on the facility's bus. I imagined that if she let go of her tight lipped control, she'd stand and scream. And I wouldn't blame her. 

With as many smiles as we left, there were some sad faces too. One lady, getting her hair "did" in the beauty parlor loved seeing the kids. She told us to enjoy our babies and our conversation took a dismal turn when she began telling us how she is the last one left. She outlived her husband and both of her children. "But," she said brightening, "I'm the oldest member of my church!" I obliged her by asking how old, "Eighty-eight!" she said proudly, but I wanted to cry. A beautiful lady, clutching at her dignity, her age her only claim to importance. I wanted to tell her, you are important because you are you. And that's enough. I patted her arm gently. 

Two moms plus five kids plus six bunches of flowers doesn't add up to anything impressive. Just us doing our best to share love in a simple way. Just us hoping to begin the stirrings of compassion in the hearts of our children. Just us doing what we hope someone else would one day do for us. One staff lady smiling widely as she took in the sight of the chattering, kids, the flowers, the contagious happiness they exuded said, "You have Jesus all over you!" And that's what it's all about. Being the hands and feet of Jesus. 

Love can be the simplest of acts. An outstretched arm. That's it.