Strength in One

Margie has lived in a memory care community for several years. In the past she has always been a lively participant in worship, often concluding the Lord's Prayer with a hearty "Yea, Babe!"  However, in the past few months she has been more reserved, and she is a little thinner. Yet, her bright blue eyes still shine and her new turquoise turtleneck showed them off beautifully this morning.  I have never met any of her family, but I am fairly certain she has some. New turtlenecks and spiffy tennis shoes show up with some regularity. It also seems she has a boyfriend.  In the past couple of worship services, she has been sitting next to him, either holding his hand or patting his knee and sometimes whispering to him.  Like most of us, she looks happier when sitting next to someone she cares about.  

Yet, I have have never seen this man awake.   After I served Communion to Margie this morning, she pointed to her boyfriend and said, "What about him? Can he take Communion?"  I replied that I did not think he was really interested.  She looked at me with concern and then asked, "Should I keep him?"  I smiled and answered that yes, she certainly should.  She smiled again and patted his knee.  As usual, he did not respond.   

 

Don's wife was watching us.  She, too, knows what it is to care for someone who is seldom awake.  His advanced Alzheimer's is taking a toll on her, and while she does join us for Communion, her sorrow is seldom lifted for long.      

  

On my way to the community, I began listening to the first of three CD's entiled, "Mary: A Jungian Contemplation" compiled by Brother Don Bisson.  In this first CD he tells of some Black Madonnas that were created during the time of the Black Death. He saw these on a trip to Europe, and reports that these Madonas are rustic, and quite robust with strong hands and arms. In those arms are emaciated bodies of Christ, giving the viewer the sense that no matter what the suffering Christ must go through, there is  refuge.  I walked into the community thinking about how I often witness this stubborn love - the holding, day by day, of those who are ill and spent. These lonely vigils require fortitude. Without such strength, Mary could not have made her own journey to the cross.    

     

Now there is only one recourse: to have someone nearby who will sit with us and share our sorrow. Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows, is not a sullen or despairing figure. She is the One who helps us move beyond loss to acceptance, from failure to resignation, from deep pain to a new consciousness that doing right is always better than doing well.    

 Sister Joan Chittister, OSB