They laughed like children with no worries. Tapping their
hands, swinging their arms, singing off tune, the room full of nursing home
patients swelled with joy as the pianist played familiar choruses… and we
danced. My family visited a sweet elderly woman after church this week and we
were in turn blessed with many new friends. After we finished our visit, the
walk back down the hall moved our hearts as one hurting person after another
hid behind rows of enclosed cubicles.
Each door cracked to reveal a pale, wrinkled person
obviously near the end of life’s journey. Living the last days in the walls of
this sprawling home…some of them very alone.
Treading softly down the corridor each family member smiled,
nodded and kindly waved at any old soul willing to receive a greeting. As we
neared the lobby my husband told me to wait with the kids, he would pull the
car into the circle drive for us.
He walked out the door and I surveyed the lobby.
My heart tugged in many directions and I longed to touch
each of the souls frozen in time. I looked at the faces and wondered about
their family members. What was each person’s story? How old were these people?
They could have been 120 for all I could tell. What events landed each one here?
Vitality and soundness of mind had departed from most of these people and they
sat wheel chairs listening to the pianist play tune after tune.
I drew my kids closer to the half circle of lives and
motioned for the kids to greet the elderly. Smiles lit the wrinkled faces as my
children hugged and helloed each member. One woman was especially happy to see
young faces. She reached for my seven-year-old daughter and held my young one’s
hands out in front of her and said,
“Dance.”
My shy quiet child looked at me for instruction.
Yes, daughter, DANCE,
my head nodded.
Her cheeks flushed yet she began to spin and turn, dancing
to please her new friend. My little one was way out of her comfort zone, but
she knew somewhere deep down inside that she wasn’t dancing for this precious
elderly soul, she was dancing for Jesus…so she continued.
The expressions of the women in the room cried for more.
With the baby on my hip, I moved to the front with my daughter and joined her
in turning and swaying. Giggles bubbled out of the chubby one in my arms and
the room filled with approval.
The women sat up.
They clapped.
They sang.
They relived happy memories in their own lives.
And the music played on.
I could have danced for hours, but I knew my husband was waiting
in the circle drive in the front of the nursing home. Apparently he had been
waiting too long, because I saw him walk through the door in search of his
family. Then our eyes locked in the middle of one of my spins and his face
smiled one of those,
Take your time
smiles.
He shares my heart for these people at the end of their
lives. Old people should be respected, visited, enjoyed.
Not put away, shrugged off and disregarded.
Our family will kiss the wrinkled faces of our new friends
and dance for them again this coming Sunday, and I have no doubt we will enjoy
it as much as they do.
