We call them nursing homes, but over here, the governmental municipalities take far more of a proactive role in caring for the indigent in their old age.
Like the States, the workers are way underpaid for what they are asked to do and to put up with.
There is a jewel of a couple who take it upon themselves once a month to provide a keyboard and try to lead in some old beloved hymns that touch a few of these people’s memory banks.
I told them a story about creation from Genesis chapter 2. There is humour in it, but you would never know it to read it the way it is printed on the page. I told it in a fashion much truer to the intent of the Hebrew redactor. And much to my surprise there was laughter at the appropriate parts of the story. Until that moment, I did not have a clue as to how much or how well I was communicating. I had to walk around telling the story, getting in their faces, making eye contact. A few fell asleep. And that’s OK. Some are suffering with Alzheimer’s. They may never fully understand what I said, but let me tell you what they will take away from the experience.
It was a welcome change in their routine. Someone invited them to be present at a gathering. They heard some music that was vaguely familiar. Someone was talking to them, not as barking an order, but rather with verve and energy. And they received a touch and a hope and prayer for their own individual peace.
Later that day, they will feel better. They may never be able to tell you why, but their day will have gone better.
And you know what? That’s just good enough. God was there. He saw it all. And his heart was touched.
That’s not just good enough, it was good enough for me.