Yesterday, I needed to go to our local drugstore. There I witnessed conversations that gave me concern, but also great hope. They took place at the pharmacy window. When I first walked by, an older man was standing there, and the pharmacist (she may have been a pharmacist's assistant) was trying to explain to him that he could get his flu shot today. He was confused, probably because of his hearing. It took a couple of attempts on her part to help him find some clarity. Yet, even though she had to speak up in the hopes of being heard, her voice came from a place of kindness. I felt she knew him, but I got no sense of "Oh, no, not this again." Her next client also struggled some with confusion, this time about her checking account. Again, I got the sense the anchorite at the window knew her as she gave good guidance to give her bank a call, but for today pay for her prescription with a credit card. She, too, was invited to get her flu shot. If you heard only the inflection of her voice, you might think the anchorite was inviting them to tea as she assured them she would prepare things for them if they would take a seat. The plastic chairs beckoned and they quietly settled in.
This week I took part in my first Zoom worship service with a long-term care community. I was welcomed cordially, and I was delighted to be with them, and to see the activity director again. There really was an air of excitement for us all. We were even able to talk to some after the homily, and the director helped all of us when our hearing just was not quite enough due to masks and physical distancing. While Zoom is not perfect, it is a welcome bridge in these times of isolation. For the sake of the hearing of the residents, it was helpful that I did not need to be masked.
As we closed our Zoom session, I was told that the residents had prepared a song for me and I was asked if I wanted to hear it. That was akin to asking someone walking in the desert if he or she would like a glass of water. For the first time in years, I loved hearing "Jesus Loves Me," and I simply let the words flow over me. A very important aspect of any ministry to elders is to allow them to minister to us. In a healthy society that is the role of elders. They teach lessons about dignity and vulnerability. They guide the young and the not so young, and they keep valuable traditions alive. They teach us to be human.
Were all these moments simple ones? Of course. However, it is simple moments that make up our days and nights, deeply influencing the quality of our lives. I am grateful for these sacred gatherings. I am grateful for all of you.
Stay well, everyone.
Sue Ann
photograph: Oakland, September 2020
During one of my recent morning walks, I came across a box marked "Free." In it was a notepad with pages entitled, "Do more of what makes you happy." That seemed to be a suggestion worth bringing home.
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