After the service, I went to the back of the activity room to wash the cup, and check in with a couple of people. The pianist continued to gently play. As I was returning to the front, I noticed one the assistants sitting quietly off to the side. I have been a little concerned about her. Despite her assurances, her generous, ever ready smile has not been quite the same the last two times I have seen her. I walked up next to her and paused. She put her arm around me, smiled, and whispered, "It is so peaceful when she plays. Look, everyone is listening. Isn't it beautiful?" I looked. In a room filled with close to forty people, there was very little movement. I noticed no conversations and even the loudspeaker was silent. No one was being asked to remember what day it was or that Sacramento was the capital of what state. Residents and staff both seemed to be resting in the moment of love freely and tenderly given. The look of happiness on the assistant's face led to me believe these moments may be too rare for not only her, but for all of us.
It is tempting to believe that our elders constantly need to be energized. This day, however, was a beautiful reminded that that all of us, regardless of our age and health, also need some time just to simply be. We need not fear the silence, but rather make room for it. There, God's love waits. There lies the deep healing for which we all yearn.
A tender melody indeed.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:8
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