Elders

A common refrain from those living in care facilities is, “I just want to go home.” This sentiment is most often expressed by those in memory care who may not be able to remember why it was that they needed a safe, different environment in which to live. One facility I visited installed a bus stop in the hallway. Just sitting on the bench waiting for the bus seemed to calm the residents wanting to go home until the desire to do so passed them by.

This makes us sad, but we can understand that all hearts yearn to go home—especially at Christmas time. If we can’t take our seniors home for Christmas in the real sense, what can we do to bring home to them?

A good place to start is with the story of the first Christmas recorded in Luke, Chapter 2. Although our elders may have heard this passage of Scripture read in church services every Christmas of their lives, they may not have thought about the fact that none of the main characters in the story were home on the first Christmas.
Joseph had once lived in that region which is why he was required to transport his pregnant wife on a donkey, taking her with him to register for the census in Bethlehem. But it wasn’t home to him. Mary likely had never been there before. She was young, about to give birth, and far away from her family and familiar surroundings. Surely she yearned to go home.

And then there’s the Baby Jesus himself. The star of the story. He certainly wasn’t home. He left the glories of heaven, where He reigned next to Almighty God, and humbled himself to come to earth as a tiny baby born in a stable surrounded by animals. Jesus later said, “For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me…For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life…” (John 6:38, 40). He left His celestial home for a significant purpose.

Sharing this perspective on the Christmas story may lead to some heartfelt discussions about home. It’s common for elders to let messages of discouragement bring them down, especially over the holidays. They may remember all the years they decorated their homes, baked for days, wrapped presents, set beautiful tables, served scrumptious meals, and then they wonder, “Did any of it matter? Does anyone even remember those Christmases?”

The best gift you can give an elder parent is to tell them, “I remember.” If possible, go through old photos and create a small album of photos from Christmases past. Include recipe cards for favorite annual treats or other mementos of your family Christmases.

As you look at the album with your loved one tell her, “I’ve tried to make your crescent cookies but they never turn out as good as yours.” Or tell him, “I really believed those footprints you made in the snow were from Santa!” It doesn’t matter what you share, just that you say, “I remember.” With or without an album of photos, sharing fond Christmas memories with the elders you love may be the best gift you can give them. Merry Christmas to all!

First published in Pikes Peak Senior News, Winter 2019-2020.

I was sitting in my doctor’s office waiting to be called in for a flu shot when I saw them enter: a man about my age and his quite elderly mother. He walked slowly, keeping cadence with her pace. She leaned over her walker and shuffled toward the check-in desk.

“My mom is here for her 11:00 appointment,” said the son, giving his mother’s name.

“Has she been in Africa in the last 21 days?” the receptionist asked in all seriousness.

The man looked over at his fragile mother, then back at the receptionist. “Well, I don’t think so, but I guess I should ask her,” he replied. He turned toward his mother and said in a voice loud enough for her and everyone in the waiting room to hear, “Mom, have you been in Africa in the last 21 days?”

From my perspective I couldn’t see the elderly woman’s face, but I could see her frail shoulders bouncing up and down as she chuckled to herself. “No,” she said, and as she turned to move toward a chair in the waiting room I could see the amusement in her eyes still. What a sweet moment the two of them shared. What unexpected joy was found in what was no doubt an appointment neither particularly wanted to keep. The receptionist was just following office procedure during this recent Ebola scare, and didn’t know she’d brightened the day of everyone within hearing distance in the process—especially the day of the elderly patient.

As soon as the man and his mom had come through the door, my heart had gone out to them. It’s impossible for me to see someone helping an elder they love without remembering such days with my mother-in-law and my mom, both now in heaven. Oh, how I prayed I could get my mom-in-law into Wendy’s for the cheeseburger and Frosty she craved without her falling. She planned morning doctor appointments so we could indulge ourselves at Wendy’s afterwards. I didn’t want her to fall on my watch.

My mom remained fairly mobile until near the end of her life, but I remember how cautiously I drove whenever I had her in the car, and how I insisted she wear her seatbelt—an invention she never appreciated fully.

But there was joy in those times, too. How I wish I could take Mary Frances for a Frosty, or Mom for a ride, one more time.

I was called in for my shot. Leaving the doctor’s office a few minutes later I walked by the chairs where the man and his mother were still waiting. The three of us shared a smile, and the knowledge that loving is always worth the price. Especially on days when a little unexpected joy comes your way.