Getting Old

Thursday started off with me traveling to Youngstown to visit a couple of people in a nursing home with Pastor Mike. It had been a while since I've been to one. Pastor Mike was taking Communion to someone from the church, and he needed some back-up. :)

Seriously, though, it was great to go. Occasionally I have been a part of taking groups of students to different homes to visit patients, but never had I observed how to serve Communion. I never even thought about it before, but Mike did awesome at it. He has a great way of talking with people, and you could see such sincere appreciation on the lady's face.

There just happened to be the father of another man from our church in the same facility, so we went looking for him, to check-in on him, as well. That's when it got weird...

The guy we went to see was cool. For being in a facility like this, he had such a strong, firm handshake. In his day, I'll bet he was probably a beast. It was while we talked with him...standing in the middle of this community room, that i heard her scream...

"AAAAHHHH!!! AAAAHHHH!!! AAAAHHHH!!!" Every few seconds, laying on a stretcher, behind me ---screaming at the top of her lungs..."AAAAHHHH!!! AAAAHHHH!!!"

Then she'd say something like, "Mugawuggamuggawugga," or someting like that. She was obviously in pain, so I understood her distress, but I couldn't help but wonder what the "mugawhatever" thing she kept saying was all about. I just felt sorry for her.

But the lady in the wheelchair next to me didn't. She bellowed out in a commanding voice, "WOULD SOMEONE JUST SHUT HER UP?!?!?"

I couldn't help but laugh (quietly to myself, of course!)

Looking around the room, it was so apparent that so many of these people are lonely. I could just imagine that when people visit, it must brighten their day in a way that not much else ever would. I am certain that many had families that would come, and spend time together with with them; only to leave when visiting hours are over, sending them back to days, or maybe weeks left alone. So many of the people's eyes just looked empty of hope. I think I don't want to get old.

But then I remember yesterday.

I was just trying to get out the front door of the church to pick Jodi up from work, when I passed the front office of the church. I stopped because Brother Hamilton was sitting in Kathy Sabella's chair. To shorten a longer story, he had car trouble, and was waiting for a guy who was taking care of it for him. We spoke about Sister Hamilton, and the fact that she had just moved into a skilled care center just down the road from the church. Unfortunately, it had become just too hard for him to take care of her on his own, especially if she needed help when she falls.

Although he seemed saddedned by the recent turn of events, there is always something so different that I see in Brother Hamilton that I didn't see in the eyes of most people on Thursday. In him I see hope. Brother Hamilton told me to "never get old," with a twinkle in his eye. I told him that I was actually doing all I could to join his team, because the alternative wasn't a very bright one.

That's when I saw the flash of hope, because he quickly disagreed. "Ah," he said. "That's where you're wrong."

Even though this week has been a tough one for the Hamilton's, I know Brother Hamilton has his eyes set on greater days...still some to live out here, but his gaze is definately fixed on eternity.

I want to get old...like Brother Hamilton.