Time

When I walked through the front door yesterday of a home dedicated to the care of those with memory impairment, I was surprised to see Matthew sitting just outside the office. He greeted me and took my hand as he always does.  He had some papers in his lap, and said he was waiting to make an important  phone call.  I know he loves the worship services, so I mentioned to him we would be starting in a few minutes and invited him to join us when he was through with his conversation. I noticed that on one of the papers, there was a hand drawn face of a clock. I understand that sometimes people are asked to draw a face of a clock when there is a question of cognitive ability.  

  

"No, no, I want to come with you now.  If I start the conversation, I will miss the service."   I think Matthew's sense of time is just fine.

 

We walked down the hall, arm in arm.  "They are all gathered for you.  I am glad you come to us." I tell him I, too, am glad I come.  

 

As we turned the corner, sure enough the gathered were there.  Greetings were shared. A space opened up for Matthew, and I took my place at the table. I waved to the one who whistles instead of sings. Sister J. (who is a nun) was there. Her hair and makeup had been done.  I told her she looks beautiful. I do not know if she cares about that sort of thing, but obviously someone in her life still does. There was the couple in their usual spot, holding hands.  When they are separate they never take communion, but together, hand in hand, they do.  Doug was there, too.  When I ask him if he wants communion he always replies with effort, "It would be an honor."  I move through the group listening to broken speech and silence, trying to fit words and intentions together as best I can, and simply praying when understanding does not come.

Yesterday, while reading from Psalm 84, I felt the words being heard.  I sensed a listening presence settling around us like wings. This love cannot be measured or drawn, but at times is so tangible there is no room for anything else.             

       

How lovely is your dwelling place, 

O LORD of hosts. 

My soul longs, indeed it faints 

for the courts of the LORD, 

my heart and my flesh sing for joy 

to the living God. 

 

Even the sparrow finds a home, 

and the swallow a nest for herself, 

where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts, 

my King and my God. 

Happy are those who live in your house, 

ever singing your praise.  

 

Psalm 84:1-4