I will miss Max. I really enjoyed talking with him. He never married and did not have children. Max told me the he had one niece and one nephew, but they did not keep in touch. His two siblings have passed away. He talked with me about skiing, his growing up years, and serving as an Army medic. I admire the way he faced his final chapter of life with humor and a good attitude. He was patient and kind and he had a great smile. Max displayed two pictures in his room: one of his mother and the other of a cherished dog he once owned. It's good to think of Max reunited with his mother.

I miss Shirley! I miss singing hymns with her. She wrote the names of her favorite hymns in the front of her hymn book, and we always sang one of those hymns. She had a beautiful, clear soprano voice. I liked hearing about her growing up years, the way she met her husband, and the hobbies and interests that filled her life. Oh, how she loved her children and grandchildren! She was proud of their accomplishments and worried about them as they faced heartache and difficulties.  The best thing her children did for her was to throw her a big birthday party last summer! At that time, she was aging but not ailing. Little did they know that it would be her last birthday party.  After the party, her daughter made her a photo book filled with pictures, and Shirley loved showing everyone her party memory book. What a smart idea! Most of all, I miss Shirley's smile and her love.

 

A few lines that I have read recently that have made me smile:

I was reading a book on helium.  I couldn't' put it down.

People say, "It's always the last place you look." Of course it is.  Why would you keep looking after you've found it?

A journey of a thousand miles begins with running back in the house for something you forgot. (This is so me!  I turn around often to make sure I put the garage door down).

The part of the baseball game I most identify with is the umpire neurotically dusting home plate after the players mess it up.

I went to Macy's to buy something.  As i pulled out my parking ticket, I asked the lady behind the counter to validate me. She hugged me and said, "You're a good person."

 

Tonight our Book Club had a wonderful discussion about this book.  It was an unusual night in that everyone seemed to have liked the book. There were many lines and paragraphs that I have reread and pondered.  Here is a sampling:

When Naomi passed, I asked God to take away the pain.  I believed he could, and I pointed out to Him that doing so made sense.  Spare me this grief so I can get back to work, I told Him.  But He didn't; He saw me through the pain, but He didn't take it away.  He honors our sorrow by allowing us to experience it.  How else to deepen us? How else to increase our trust? Instead of fighting the pain, He asks us to surrender to it. Only then can it begin to heal us.  Thank Him for the emptiness.  He will fill it when He sees fit (pgs. 272, 273).

I have come to accept that at present I have only a partial view of reality; there are answer I will not be given until I leave this life.  I know that my Lord is the God of wheat fields and oak tress, of mountains and valleys. and that His answers, like HIs works, often require time (pg. 278).

This growing old is the great test, you know--the challenge we've been preparing for all along (pg. 264).

I volunteer for a hospice company at a memory care section of a senior care facility.  Chaplains are supposed to have conversations with people so I wondered how I could be of help in the memory care section. I thought there were other jobs that were more worth my time. I was wrong. This experience is proving to be very valuable to me.

First of all, I do have conversations with individuals.  Even though some of the patients repeat themselves or may not make sense, I listen to them and validate them. I look at them and try to keep focused while they are talking.  I hope they feel of my care. I am learning a lot from them.

I am also learning from the wonderful and patient aides who care for the residents day and night.  They are so heroic to me! These individuals are society's unsung heroes.  Due to privacy, I can not show you pictures of them, but I wish I could.  I want to praise and recognize them, but I think they would be uncomfortable with that.  I try as best I can to validate these workers, but my words seem like a drop in the bucket compared to their tireless efforts. It takes a very special type of person to work with memory care patients.

What am I learning about society? America is aging and there will be thousands more people in facilities like this one in the years to come. It is often hard to find enough staff and usually turnover is frequent. How are we going to care for our abundance of seniors, particularly for those who need constant care? It is a concern to me.

I am learning about myself and my relationship to others. No matter the individual's condition, people enjoy conversation and attention. They also need mental stimulation. I have seen this play out.  The residents get bored and restless if they are just sitting around. These individuals are capable of creativity and they respond magically to music. I have much more to learn in this "classroom." 

 

I was delighted to read this book containing wisdom from people all over the nation of differing ages and backgrounds.  Here are a few excerpts:

I’ve learned that it’s never too late to improve yourself (Age 85).

 

I’ve learned that choices made in adolescence have long-term consequences 

(Age 49).

 

I’ve learned that you can’t keep going long after you think you can’t (Age 69).

 

I’ve learned that you should treasure your children for what they are, not for what you want them to be (Age 39).   

 

I’ve learned that my children’s birthdays make me feel older than my own birthday does (Age 46).

I’ve learned that I can’t change the past, but I can let it go (Age 63).

I’ve learned that if love isn’t taught in the home it’s difficult to learn it anywhere else (Age 51).

I’ve learned that the simple things are often the most satisfying (Age 63).

I’ve learned that what you are thinking about, you are becoming (Age 55).

I’ve learned not to waste time worrying about the things I can’t change (Age 72).

I've learned that you can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk (Age 7).