What's Your Smile-Trigger?

I got to spend a significant amount of one-on-one time with two of our female residents last week.  Both visits were those sort of "slap in the face" kind.  You know, the ones that make you realize how little the issues in your life are compared to the grand scheme of things?  Yeah, I have those moments a lot here.

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The first resident was essentially reliving the death of her son.  We'll call her Jane.  Because of Jane's dementia, she was caught up in a moment of belief that he had just passed away a few days ago, when in reality it has been many years since his death.  She told me, "You know, this week started out really rough when I found out about Ron, but it's turning out to be okay.  I just keep praying."  From a picture she showed me, I'm guessing he was in his 40s when he passed away.  She mentioned that it was from some sort of disease, but she didn't go into specifics.  Eventually, she asked me to put his picture back in the drawer and said, "We better stop talking about it," but she kept mentioning how prayer was what kept her going.

She continued to tell me how she prays for all of her children, because that is the best thing a mother can do for them.  Her children are obviously very dear to her (you can tell from the way she talks about them), so I can't imagine how strong of a woman she must be to have gone through the loss her son.  She told me about how she always wanted children so badly but had trouble getting pregnant at first, so (you guessed it!) she prayed about it.  She ended up with four kids, one of them adopted.  She is still praying every day to thank God for them.

Any time I mention a concern or desire to Jane, she tells me to pray about it.  As she puts it, "God answers prayers. It's not always 1, 2, 3, done - but He always answers."  I learned two things from Jane that day:
     1. Pray about everything that is dear to your heart, both in joy and in sorrow.
     2. How to clip a flower in my hair.   It's nice knowing people who used to be beauticians!

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We'll call the second resident Georgina.  Georgina is one of those people that just oozes friendliness and faith.  You know, the kind you see at church camp every year who is genuinely thrilled to see each person as if it has been years since the last visit, even though it only may have been last week?

I already knew Georgina was especially fond of singing church hymns.  She must know every single word in the entire hymnal.  So when her condition started to decline, I went in to sit at her bedside one night and sing a couple songs with her.  She barely had a voice left, but the minute I named a song she started singing it.  I wish I could somehow explain how the smile on her face looked as we sang.  It grew even bigger as I read her some Psalms.  She asked me to read them more than once and to mark them down for her so she could read them again later (even though I knew that she would be incapable of reading them herself).

When I say her "condition started to decline," I should probably elaborate a little bit to show just how remarkable Georgina's smile in this moment really was.  She is a tiny woman to begin with, and she is now in the stage where meal time means being spoon-fed some sort of apricot/honey mixture - one of the most vulnerable points we can come to in life (or should I say return to).  She lays quietly and no longer carries on a conversation very well, becoming quickly confused.  Her smile has always been infectious, but I cannot begin to explain how much more intoxicating it was coming from such a feeble, helpless body.  To get to that point in life and have a faith so strong it still gives you a reason to smile?  That's something.

Her favorite verse that night was Psalm 116:8 - "For You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling."  When I finished reading it, she told me, "I liked that one very much."

Then we sang "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" three or four times in a row:

What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Ev'rything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Ev'rything to God in prayer.

I think each of us should have something in our life that means as much to us as these hymns mean to Georgina.  I know if I ever find myself in such a tragically deteriorated condition, I would want there to be that one thing that could still bring a smile to my face.  In a time when everyone else would expect that mysterious apricot/honey mixture to suck all the joy right out of you, it'd be nice to prove them wrong.  Do you have that one thing that will bring you immeasurable joy up to the very end?  What's your smile-trigger?

Now That I'm a Lady

Today my residents informed me that since I'm 21, I'm now officially a lady.  I asked them what that entails, and these are the guidelines they gave me:

1) Give up smoking (they were pleased to hear that I never started, so I can skip this step).
2) When you leave for work every morning, kiss your Momma goodbye.
*3) Find a really handsome man.
       He should also be:
         -Polite
         -Willing to help with the housework (find this out by asking if he knows how to dust)
         -Willing to help raise the kids (find this out by noticing if he even likes kids)
4) Wedding dresses are hard to find (good ones at least), so start looking now for a man and a dress.
4) Have 3-4 kids (at least more than 2, because kids are great, so more is better).
5) Write out these rules 3 times every night.
6) "Marriage is an important step, so you really have to think think think."
7) Stop reaching across people.  This one may or may not have been added after I, uh, reached across someone. Sorry, Mom.

*Extra advice given for accomplishing #3:
-"Be kind to children when they come to visit you, so that the man will see that and want to marry you."
-In response to the classic, "How do you know if he's the one?"
      -If you get very happy when you see him.  And if your heart flutters, too?  Oh boy!
      -Talk to your mother.  She knows what type of man is right for you.  She just knows.
-Keep your heart open.
-He should have brothers for the residents to marry.  They said they'll take the "really, really handsome ones," and I can have the "sorta handsome" ones.  Aren't they sweet?
-Pray that God will help you find a man and find him soon.

I'm starting to think this is a blog more about relationship advice than general wisdom and humor.  Don't worry, I've got some stuff brewing for the next post that is more "touching," if you will.  Check back soon!

Squawking.

Most of the time I love going to work.  I know most people can't say that.  But I do.  Most of the time.  But every once in a while I have a day, like today, where it's just really hard to find the energy in the morning.  The strange thing about this place, though, is that most of the time, even when that happens, I find it after I get here.  I know most people can't say that either.  I hope I never forget how much of a blessing it is to come to a job that, 9 times out of 10, has me leaving in a better mood than the one I came in with.

But like I said, today started off a little rough.  For one thing, I must've been still half asleep when I got dressed this morning, because after being at work for a couple hours, I started to realize that my outfit was, well, not as cute as I originally thought.  I pretty much looked like Nanny McPhee.  But you know, I think I got more compliments from the residents today than I ever have before.  I don't know if they could tell I was feeling self-conscious, or if they could somehow understand what bizarre fashion rules I was trying to apply in my half wakened state at 6:00 in the morning, but go figure, they liked it.  They're pretty cool like that.

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Now on to the serious stuff.  I find myself being given a great deal of relationship advice in this place.  Something about being a single, 21-year-old woman makes them think I need to get the ball rollin' on this whole "finding a man" business - so they love to offer their wisdom.  Actually, they would probably offer it whether I was single or not, but that's okay.  Most of it isn't half bad:

"Don't be too smart, don't be too dumb.  Just be nice.  Be his friend.  You know, my husband was never the type to let his hands wander all over me.  He was nice.  He was quiet.  He let me speak first.  If you need to, kick him in the ass and say goodbye.  But if you're gonna marry him, wrap that chain around him and hold on tight; don't let go.  But if he's not it, wait till you find someone who is.  And in the meantime just behave as if you were an old woman.  Don't stress about it.  You've got enough spunk to entertain yourself for a time."

Easier said than done, I'm afraid.  But sound advice none the less.

***

One of our residents is 100.  I would say she's one of the ones who seems like she's reached that point where she feels that she's lived as long as she needs to.  It's not that she wants to die, but she's ready to.  She is really quiet and just likes to sit in her room and look out the window.  But she does love visitors.  She'll talk to you like she's known you for years even if it's the first time you've ever walked through her door.  She's one of those ladies that feels like she could be a grandmother to the entire world.  Here's something she told me today:

"Isn't it funny how the smallest moments are the ones you remember?  The things you don't think much of at the time are the ones you look back on and smile over.   When I was a girl, I would look at the chickens and the geese on the farm.  They would squawk back and forth at each other.  I remember I asked my mother one day, 'Do you think they understand each other?'  'Oh yes,' she said, 'they're speaking their own language.'  I always wandered what it was they had so much to say about."


I thought it was funny that I was actually thinking the same thing the other day.  Not about the chickens and geese, but about how the small, obscure memories are the ones that mean the most.  For me, it wasn't secret bird languages.  It was the way my dad taught me to make brownies when I was a little girl.  Sure, it's technically as simple as reading the directions on the box (I hope you didn't think I was referring to homemade brownies.  Do people actually do that??).  But the way he taught me to shoot the metal things from the mixer into the sink, or to crack the eggs, how to measure accurately, etc.  It was never about the finished product.  It's the time I spent in the kitchen helping my Dad.  That's what I look back on and smile about.  And, if I do say so myself, I make a pretty good brownie.