Epiphany

The first time I met John, I suspected that his dementia was rooted in depression, and over the course of the past few months, I have seen him grow more engaged. He recently told me he was grateful to have some mental clarity return.  In December, he wheeled into the activity room a few minutes late for the service, but on his own.  He arrived with an apology, but I was glad to see him and tried to remind him that we are pretty informal. He replied, "You come telling us of universal love. The staff really should make certain we get to hear the message." I continued with my sharing of the nativity story, boldly proclaiming,  "And everyone gathered around: the shepherds, the wise men, and the angels..." He stopped me saying that the wise men and the shepherds did not arrive at the same time. I paused, and realized that I had gotten a bit carried away with the story. I replied, "Yes, you are right. However, since we will not all be together again until late January, I guess I am trying to gather everyone in now."  We both laughed and as he looked around the room he responded, "Well, that makes sense," and he let me off the hook. He then asked if I would mind if he told the tradition of Epiphany in his home country. I was delighted. 

 

He said that three glasses of wine would be set out (I think the night before Epiphany), along with three sugar cubes. A window would be left slightly ajar. At some point in the night, the wine would be drunk, and the sugar cubes would be smashed with a small hammer. While I am sure that Melchoir, Balthazar, and Caspar would appreciate a glass of wine on their journey, the smashed sugar cubes confused me. John laughed and said, "The camels!" Seems camels are messy eaters. In gratitude for the hospitality, a present would be left for the children.    

  

In this small community, most of the residents have advanced dementia. While I am sure that can be frustrating for John, he seems to have compassion for the residents, and he often tells me something of their lives. I think he learns his information from family members and friends who visit, and indeed the day I was there, I witnessed a friendly conversation between him and a woman who was visiting her husband. His presence is probably comforting for her and others who may feel stranded as they visit their loved ones. He probably does belong in a different home, and I do hope at some point he can move. However, his presence where he is now is a mysterious gift for us all.  Perhaps like the magi, he is simply going home by another route.  I am grateful our paths have crossed.