The face in the corner, staring off in thought. Wrinkled skin, freshly permed white hair, eyes squinting from the sunshine.
The face of a helper, weary from the day's work. Leaning on the arm rest of the older woman beside her. Resting her head between her fisted hands.
The face of the fragile one, laying in bed waiting. The days drag by. Her final moment is near. Saying nothing, but staring at the ceiling wide-eyed.
The face of the lost one, wishing me good luck at school. He says he hopes "the good Lord" will take him before I return. He hopes he has been good enough. He says this place is no place to end it.
The face of the hurting one, disappointed in his inability to keep track of the time. He has no memory of the lunch he just ate. He thought it was still morning.
The face of the daughter, spooning tomato soup into her father's mouth. She wishes she could come more often, but every six weeks is all she can afford.
I remember them. Like snapshots in my mind, I carry them with me as I return to my other life.
Goodbye for now, nursing home.
Hello for now, school.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Sunday, January 08, 2012
Discouragement vs. Despair
I've been noticing the difference between discouragement and dispair lately:
Of course, because I've been spending more time with my nursing home folks lately, an illustration from there comes to mind:
As he shuffled across his bedroom, his tennis-ball-covered walker feet hit the ground with a familiar hallow rhythm. I asked how he was doing as I prepared to help him with his daily routine and his response was something like, "Well, I can't complain... but I guess i'll be here for the rest of my days." He went on to say (as he has told me many times before) that he thinks his physical condition is some sort of curse. He was confused as to "what he had done wrong," but he just knew he was being cursed. If only he knew that Someone has been cursed his his place. If only he knew that "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us..." (Galatians 3:13)
I recently asked my "brother" at the nursing home what the Lord had been teaching him lately. He looked at me with an expression of discouragement on his face and after a short pause he quietly said, "Patience." He went on to say something like, "I just don't have much of it these days." "Well.." I said, "it's a good thing we know the One who does." Maybe it's just me, but I can see it in his eyes. It never leaves. Even in discouragement, there is peace.
Unless the LORD had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death... but the LORD has become my fortress, and my God in the rock in whom I take refuge. Psalm 94:17,22
Of course, because I've been spending more time with my nursing home folks lately, an illustration from there comes to mind:
As he shuffled across his bedroom, his tennis-ball-covered walker feet hit the ground with a familiar hallow rhythm. I asked how he was doing as I prepared to help him with his daily routine and his response was something like, "Well, I can't complain... but I guess i'll be here for the rest of my days." He went on to say (as he has told me many times before) that he thinks his physical condition is some sort of curse. He was confused as to "what he had done wrong," but he just knew he was being cursed. If only he knew that Someone has been cursed his his place. If only he knew that "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us..." (Galatians 3:13)
I recently asked my "brother" at the nursing home what the Lord had been teaching him lately. He looked at me with an expression of discouragement on his face and after a short pause he quietly said, "Patience." He went on to say something like, "I just don't have much of it these days." "Well.." I said, "it's a good thing we know the One who does." Maybe it's just me, but I can see it in his eyes. It never leaves. Even in discouragement, there is peace.
Unless the LORD had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death... but the LORD has become my fortress, and my God in the rock in whom I take refuge. Psalm 94:17,22
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Meeting a brother
I was late. Tired. Stressed.
Walking into his room, I tried my best to put on a smile and my "How can I serve you?" cheerful face, while my thoughts were more centered around,"How can I help you get out of bed and dressed in the quickest manor possible... i'm running behind."
The first day back at work is always somewhat stressful for me. There are always people I don't know, things I forget, and obstacles to work around throughout the day. Today was no exception.
He was the last one I had to help get up before breakfast, but I was already late. Breakfast had started ten minutes before, and I should have been in the dinning room helping to serve the meal. I walked into his room with no idea what type of routine he was used to. Does he wear jeans, or dress pants with his button up shirts? Does he walk, or use his wheel chair in his room? Does he usually get up at 6am, and will he be upset that I wasn't there until 8:10? And, is he cognitive enough to answer any of these questions? All of this was flying through my head as I walked into the room.
I asked my usual series of questions, wondering how he would respond. To my surprise he was cheerful, content, and even laid some words of wisdom on my lap. When I asked him about his plans for the day he said, "Oh, I think i'll sit in my recliner and watch some TV... I wonder if anything is going on in the world today."
And then he warmed my heart with the words, "Maybe our Lord will return today."
I was so encouraged to hear that he was a brother, and I told him so.
Suddenly, I wasn't so stressed.
Walking into his room, I tried my best to put on a smile and my "How can I serve you?" cheerful face, while my thoughts were more centered around,"How can I help you get out of bed and dressed in the quickest manor possible... i'm running behind."
The first day back at work is always somewhat stressful for me. There are always people I don't know, things I forget, and obstacles to work around throughout the day. Today was no exception.
He was the last one I had to help get up before breakfast, but I was already late. Breakfast had started ten minutes before, and I should have been in the dinning room helping to serve the meal. I walked into his room with no idea what type of routine he was used to. Does he wear jeans, or dress pants with his button up shirts? Does he walk, or use his wheel chair in his room? Does he usually get up at 6am, and will he be upset that I wasn't there until 8:10? And, is he cognitive enough to answer any of these questions? All of this was flying through my head as I walked into the room.
I asked my usual series of questions, wondering how he would respond. To my surprise he was cheerful, content, and even laid some words of wisdom on my lap. When I asked him about his plans for the day he said, "Oh, I think i'll sit in my recliner and watch some TV... I wonder if anything is going on in the world today."
And then he warmed my heart with the words, "Maybe our Lord will return today."
I was so encouraged to hear that he was a brother, and I told him so.
Suddenly, I wasn't so stressed.
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