“I Was Sick…and Ye Visited Me”
My daugher, who is seventeen years old came home from her usual, all night shift, where she works as a CNA, for the elderly. Often, she comes in and shares the “story of the evening” with me, about the night’s happenings. Recently, she was saddened because sweet Marion, an elderly gentlemen, “one of my favorites”, had recently passed away. I felt this was soon in coming because Lara would often share with me, that when she would take Marion his food, he would stop to bless it. Often, in the middle of his blessing, he would look up from his prayer and ask Lara, “Is that Jesus I see coming down the hallway?”
I have told Lara how special her work is in taking care of the grandfathers and grandmothers as they prepare to meet the Savior again. I have noticed how respectfully she speaks of them, how she is amused by them and often we have laughed and even shed a few tears, over the stories Lara has told me.
The other morning, I heard Lara come in, as usual from her graveyard shift. I called sleepily out to her, “Did you get any sleep tonight, honey?” I am concerned about Lara; because she is trying to finish her last few months of High School. With her rigorous schedule, she can hardly get a good night’s sleep anymore. She is constantly being awakened to care for the needs of the aging, to give them their meds, etc.
“No, not really…” she sighed coming in and sitting on my bed at 7:00 a.m. “What happened?” I asked, getting ready to preach a tender little motherly sermon about the importance of getting a good night’s sleep. Instead, Lara taught me a tender lesson.
“In the middle of the night, one of the staff heard some banging on the outside doors.
She went to see what the problem was, and there was an 85 year old man laying on the ground outside the door in the freezing cold. He didn’t have any shoes on and his hands and feet were all cut up as though he had been crawling through the night looking for help. He must have come from one of the homes in the neighborhood, and lost his way. He couldn’t remember his phone number but he could remember his name, so I looked up his number in the phone book and called his wife at 4:00 a.m. in the morning.
Then the other girl and I made a little bed for him on the floor because he was too big for us to move. We bundled him up because he was shivering so bad it looked like he was having seizures!” Lara continued with her story…”His wife came to pick him up and Mom, it was so sad because she hadn’t even known he was missing. She said they went to bed at 11:00 p.m. and that he must have gone out for a little midnight stroll in the ice cold. That’s when we learned that he has dymentia…We called the paramedics so that they could come and see if he was suffering from the cold. Mom, I don’t want to get old. It’s so sad…”
I llistened to my daughters “story of the evening”, I was moved to compassion for the elderly. How they have spent their whole lives, giving of themselves to their spouses, careers and children…and in the end…who is it that cares for them?
Every night, a seventeen year old girl tucks in the gramdpa’s and the grandma’s, extending her heart to those she is growing to love, as she cares for them. She is earning her way through school and laying up treasures for herself in heaven. It is a sometimes, thankless job, to care for the elderly, at least in the world’s eyes. There are no awards and medals for the two young women who possibly saved a elderly man’s life tonight while the rest of the community sleeps peacefully, unaware, snug and warm in their nice warm beds.
An elderly man is out walking bewilderedly through the night looking for some shelter and someone to care for him in his old age….but….”Who will lullaby the grandfathers?” Who will care for them? Who will remind them of the wonderful works they have done throughout their lives, when they can no longer remember their own phone numbers?
I was inspired to think of someone who has touchedmy life, who is in their “goldern years”. Thnk of someone who has touched your’s. An old school teacher perhaps? Someone who— may not even remember your name and send them your love anyway….
Inspired by Lara, I called an elderly man who is getting up in years, who once blessed me “to go and sing the song of your heart” and told me that I would bless many souls with the sound of music. I called him, out of the blue, the other day after years of not being in touch just to thank him for blessing my life. When he answered the phone, I introduced myself and asked him if I could bring him one of my cds depicting the love of the women in the scriptures, who loved the holy prophets.
”I’m sorry,” he said, “my memory is failing me. I don’t believe that I remember you…” he said to me. “Who are you again? What is your name? I don’t have any recollection of ever meeting you.”
I gently reminded him of how he had blessed my life on three different ocassions. Once when I was sick. Once when I was single. And once when I was discouraged. All three times, he had visited me, encouraged me to ”Carry On” and to “Keep on Singing!” He couldn’t remember any of these shared moments…but then at last, a trickle of memory served him. “Are you a massage therapist? Well, now, I do remember you!”
“Yes!” I said happily, knowing that he had finally been blessed to remember me, if for even, but a moment. “I am in your neighborhood and just wanted to bring you my new cd and thank you for encouraging me to write and sing the song of my heart…”
“That would be nice…I am sick…so just give it to my son. He will answer the door.” I drove to the address my dear old friend gave me over the phone and went to the door with a few lullabies for the men, on a shiny new cd. It wasn’t professionally labeled, and all it read was, “Awake My Soul!” My name was not inscribed. It was the first cd, hot off the press and I knew that he must have it as he was the one who had encouraged me years ago, when he came to visit me, to write the songs of the Book of Mormon.
“Please give this to your father and thank him for making a tremendous difference in my life. When I was single and sick, he came to visit me one day and he blessed me to get well and to keep singing. This is a token of my appreciation.”
His son thanked me and closed the door. I marveled as I walked to my car, about the plight of getting older…how important it is that we remember those who have inspired us…even if they cannot remember us….
Who will lullaby the grandfathers? A seventeen year old…a busy mom….an old friend…I pray that it will be both you and I…after all, we are the only voice that God has.
I must make an exception…for as I completed this last story. I heard the voice of an angel speak to my soul. Tingles bathed over my whole being and I knew it was Marion, my daughter’s angel friend who had passed away recently. “Tell Lara, thank you….” was all the voice whispered into the depths of my soul. Immediately, tears came to my eyes. “Marion?” I asked… I felt a tender affirmation of tingles once again spreading over my being. “Will you be my daughter’s minsitering angel? Will you help her graduate from school? Will you take care of her when I can’t be with her.”
“Yes, I will!” I felt a robust but gentle whisper. I headed for the phone at 5:13 a.m. and called Lara. She was finally getting some sleep, but I awakened her and told her how Marion had come to visit me to tell me to say “Thank you, Lara, for taking care of me in my last days…and yes, Lara, that was Jesus I saw coming down the hallway.”
I wept as I told Lara, how proud I am of her. Her reward will be in heaven with all of the angels she is taking care of here on earth. One day, as each one passes through the veil, they will minister to my daughter. This I know…with all my heart. In Jesus Name, Amen.
I pause
With Love,
Karyn Grant
