Carrying Easter

I experienced several tender moments this week, especially in the memory care communities. I was able to sing with John, and I again enjoyed his beautiful voice. I know he plays piano, but I have never heard him play. I asked him, as I always do, if he was still playing. He usually replies that he plays very little now. This week, however, he responded, "No, God has returned that gift to heaven. I think someone else is needing it. But, I am grateful that I had it for awhile." 

  

Later in the week, I was surprised to see Jewel. She must have moved away and then moved back because I have not seen her for over a year.  In the past she has entertained us with stories of growing up on a farm in Idaho, but now her words are garbled. As I listened, an image came to mind of balls rolling down a set of stairs, impossible to catch or control.  She joined us for the hymn sing, and although she held the song sheet she did not sing.  Yet, when we all started singing from memory hymns like "Amazing Grace," and "I Come to the Garden," she joined in without reservation. I told her how glad I was to hear her singing.  She responded in a clear voice, "Oh, I had no idea that I was doing that."  Then, her words began to tumble once more.    

Jewel's comment reminded me of Mary whom I was with a few days prior. Mary can no longer read and when I ask her if she knows a hymn, she will usually respond that she cannot remember. Yet, she sang in a choir for many years, so if I begin singing, she readily joins in with a lovely clear voice. I think there are many layers to memory - the mind beneath the mind.      

In the communities I serve, every worship service is an Easter service.  We celebrate the living Christ who is always with us. The cross is celebrated as well because these good people certainly know what it is to pick up their cross and go.  We speak of death, and mourn those who have passed. In order to practice not being afraid, we sing our alleluias whenever we can, and at times, even when we can't.    

   

During our good-byes yesterday, Betty said, "Thank you for adding your Easter to ours."  If each of us did just that, what a glorious life this could be. 

  

Yes, I know this is Good Friday, a day of somber reflection. Jesus, please forgive me, but you know I must start out the day at the temple of Mel's Tires. I simply must get a tire fixed. I still have a ways to go and I am grateful.  

I was glad when they said to me, 

"Let us go to the house of the Lord!"

Psalm 122:1