One of my favorite stops each week is the Memory Care Devotional Service. It's the last thing on Thursday, so it often ends my week on a high note. It follows The Assisted Living Eucharist Service in the chapel downstairs. That has been meeting in the dining room the past two weeks during redecoration of the Villa. People walk by, talking as they go, ignoring we who are engaged in the ancient tradition of remembrance. After saying goodbye to the regulars and any others, I head upstairs.
When I arrive, the residents of Memory Care are already gathered in a large rectangular room with a ring of chairs around the wall on three sides. The short window side is open for me to drag my chair over. That also means I get to control the window which sometimes needs closing due to noisy garbage trucks that arrive at what seems to me an odd time. But, I guess, they have to be somewhere at 2:30 on Thursday afternoon. Don't we all!
Jennifer, the staff person normally with the people announces "Church". They've just finished another activity--sometimes a music time; sometimes a movement activity. We immediately go into "church" mode.
The past two weeks I've led this service alone as Fr. Jason has been unexpectedly called elsewhere. I like leading this service, as I said. A small booklet has been prepared that alternates easy songs with familiar psalms, a scripture, and the Lord's Prayer. It's the same every week. It's passed out and everyone is ready. One lady takes the lead in getting us started. She is always ready. She also makes comments along the way sometimes--simple observations about the selections. She often "leads" us with symbolic arm gestures. Another lady usually naps through most of the service. Some carefully read along without making any sound. Some skip around, sing bits they catch on to, and otherwise, participate to their own drums. I love that.
Another lady appears perfectly oriented. She sings all the songs, speaks appropriately, is appreciative. I could be flummoxed if I didn't realize why she is there. They are gentle souls, for the most part. There is the occasional objection, misunderstanding, or unexpected behavior. It mirrors what might be seen anywhere with any group of worshipers.
What is clear, these folks are present to the moment. Nothing else really matters. They aren't planning what they are going to say when asked to speak. They aren't making their shopping list or worrying over the laundry that isn't getting done. They are there for church, or not. I wonder about their histories. Has she been a church-goer all her life? Did she hate church and never go when she wasn't scheduled into it? Was she raised Jewish? Would she be horrified to be at a Christian service if she had a choice? Is all this a mystery to her? I wonder...
After the Lord's Prayer I invite the participants to offer gratitudes--things they are thankful for. This is not an easy task, apparently. A few offerings are made--for the beautiful day, for example. Most just stare at me. I make some suggestions--for the loving care they receive; for having a nice place to live; for family and friends. I offer my own thanksgiving for three wonderful granddaughters. They smile.
I think about family culture in Jesus' day. Elders with family would be living with family, cared for by family, embedded in the routines of family life. Those without family--widows, they are often called--might be beggars, destitute and vulnerable. Life would not linger without the safety and care of an extended family. People likely died young and painfully and without mercy. Jesus came to change all that, reminding us to care for others as though we were caring for him. It's the least we ought to do, he implied. Things were difficult in his time.
I am grateful for homes like those affiliated with St. Paul's. I am grateful for the spiritual care that is at the heart of their mission. I am grateful to be with these lovely people a half-hour on some Thursdays to sing "Jesus Loves me", ""How Great Thou Art", and other old familiar hymns and songs. And I am sad for those without such homes and supports--those who are refugees, those who are too poor, those who have no one to help them access the services and care that would be available if they could. Seldom does anyone just go out on the street and bring people in to safety and a warm meal. We presume individual initiative trumps our taking over. We presume choice. We presume...
One lady I spoke with recently fears having to move to a higher level of care. She says it will cost $6000 a month. I fear that too! Who can afford that? Something is deeply wrong in our society that a frail elderly lady must worry over such as that. Despite our complex and highly organized systems of care, something is missing. True compassion? Peace of mind? Generosity? Equal allocation of resources? You should hear some of the stories from a friend of mine who volunteers at a day center for homeless elders. They are sometimes almost beyond comprehension. How did we get here? Where are we going from here? What plate do we as Christians need to step up to?
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