He will be them one day

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the elderly. Something about their return to dependence produces an unfeigned humility in many of them that makes me want to help them and make them happy.

I've written before about taking Will to see my Great Aunt Dilly at the Springmoor retirement center. This week, we went again.

They were having circle time with the chaplains when we walked in:

Immediately, they wave Will and me to the center of their circle, just so they can look at the baby. Dilly doesn't recognize us when we walk in, but when I tell the crowd we're there specifically to see her, she sits up a little straighter and poofs the sides of her hair with her hands, as if to say, yes, I'm that important.

I want to see all of them, so after leaving the group and spending a few minutes in Dilly's room, I suggest we go back to the lobby where Will can look at the birds. Slowly, over the course of an hour and a half, the lobby gets full, residents, nurses, aides, office workers, all just loitering there, enjoying the sights and sounds so unfamiliar in that place. Will laughs and runs down the halls, squealing when he looks back and sees me running after him.

He pushes Nancy's walker, and he wants to feel Moppy's soft sweater, and he loves exploring Dilly's wheel chair. One lady is blind. The workers wheel her from her bedroom to the lobby. She's reclined in her chair, eyes closed, and she mutters words inaudible, in her own world that only she can see. She's wearing fuzzy red socks that Will loves. He runs over and touches them over and over again.

Moppy and Nancy and Frances ask me every 90 seconds how old he is. They call him Bill instead of Will. Some refer to him as she. I love it all. Whatever they think, in that moment, is right.

Because they are happy.

One lady throws her head back and exclaims how she's never been so happy. There she sits, in the lobby of a facility where staff members assist her with her most personal needs, where a nurse dispenses her daily medicine in a cup of Ensure and stands by to make sure it all goes down, where her access to the outside is not up to her. And in that moment, watching a child 90 years younger than her, she is happier than she can remember.

The nurse looks at me and says, "Well, you've certainly done your good deed for the day."

It strikes me because I've been thinking about that very thing lately. Do I do enough good every day? When I worked at IBM, I never thought my actual work was that important, but I found worth in my interactions with others, the opportunities I had to be Christ-like to people who had never experienced Christ, and of course, I brought home a paycheck to support my family.

These days, at the end of the day, I look at my house, discouraged at how dirty it is, and at my laundry, discouraged at how piled up it is, and I fight to tell myself: It's okay. Because you poured your energy and your very soul into your child. You were Christ-like towards him, and one day he'll impact others for good. And I am content with that because I know it's true. My calling in life is to be mom.

But I have to say, Wednesday, when we left the facility, I had one of those rare moments (especially for stay-at-home moms I'd imagine) when my soul's capacity actually felt full. Yin met yang for me that afternoon. I poured my soul into Will like every day, and I was the conduit for an almost divine connection between the young and the old. I was present for that moment when the cycle of life is tangible and visible and all participants are better for the other's company. They, unable to walk, and he can't keep from running. Their bodies, worn out from the years, and his not even two years used. They, full of life experience and yet many out of touch with present reality, and he, seeing caged birds for the first time and gleeful over fuzzy red socks. They were him once, and he will be them one day.

Yes, I think the connection between the very old and the very young is pretty close to sacred. Neither young nor old occupy that spot for very long. Connecting the two is certainly a time-sensitive ministry, and one I pray I'll be faithful to continue doing while I have opportunity.

God bless the residents at Springmoor, Dilly, Moppy, and the lady with the fuzzy red socks.

God bless them all.





(I don't have pictures of our visit to Springmoor because 1) I was too busy chasing after Will, trying to make sure he didn't unplug someone's oxygen machine, and 2) I wasn't sure about snapping pics of those precious people and putting them on the web anyway. But, every post is better with a picture, so here's one of Will and me last night after his bath. Who knows, maybe next time we go to Springmoor, I'll get some pictures. I'll be sure to post if I do.
P.S. If any Raleigh mamas want to go with us one day, let me know. Two babies (or three or four) is better than one!)