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This week I met with a group that I have grown so fond of.  The core group is quirky, outspoken and they are of constant surprise to me.  We meet in a room at the back of the long-term care community. I like the room because it looks out onto a works-in-progress garden.  However, it does take awhile to get folks down a long hallway, but that is proving to be a spiritual practice for me. We walk slowly and talk.  This week I walked with Nancy.  When I asked her how she was doing, she replied, "Well, I am ok.  I would like a beer, though. Or chocolate. I like my room, though."   

We settled in, sans both chocolate and a drink (it is Lent after all), and we began to talk about Jesus.  Nancy said that she liked Mary. She liked praying to a woman. Anita said that she loved Jesus. He just feels good. We talked a little about Jesus' time in the desert, and Anita said she never understood that story. Just then an assistant came in and told Anita she had a phone call. As she was being wheeled out, I said, "Just remember, Anita, God will always show you the way. That is what the story is really about."  She replied, "Oh, I do like that!  Remember, we love you, honey."  I thanked her and said that is the most important part of the story.   

Theresa then told a story about coming to the community. She said she had been in the hospital in a coma. I asked her if she remembered anything during that time. "Yes. I remember God. I remember he showed me this home and said I would be safe here. He even showed me some of the people. So when I got here I already knew I would be okay."  We talked about how God will always bring us to a safe place, no matter what is going on.  Deborah then said, "You are part of us."   I replied that yes, and how grateful I am for that. 

 

Lunchtime quickly came, and after I helped get a few of the more frail into the dining room, a very polite older gentleman took my hand and said, "I will walk you to the front."  As we walked the slow walk back, he told me he grew up on a farm in Czechoslovakia.   I felt a deep loss swell up as he said, "We must remember war is very terrible."  At that moment I wanted every politician to walk that slow walk with us.  We walked a few steps more in silence, and then he asked, "Will you come back?".  "Of course. I belong, remember?"   

 

He smiled and said, "This is good."   

 

It surely is.