Amidst Beauty

Sunday morning, I had the honor of attending church service at the Searcy Healthcare Center. Mark leads singing there sometimes and I wanted the children and myself to go and experience relationships with the elderly. When we entered, we had to dis-alarm the door. The residents are not prisoners, but without the door locked and alarmed they may "escape". There are those who will simply leave because there is a door open.
The room we entered was already filling up with residents and a few of their family members. Wheelchairs and folding chairs were our pews and the foyer was our sanctuary. I looked around at all the residents. Some were sitting quietly, just waiting to begin. Some were talking loudly and enjoying the social gathering as if it was a big party. Some were staring in what seemed to be a vacant not-quite-there appearance. All were dressed up. Lipstick, jewelry, bows in hair, ties, cologne, and glitter. This was obviously a time during the week that held great honor amongst the residents.
The boys fit perfectly on a loveseat near the front, but there was no seat for Maggie (my grown-up seven-year-old). She didn't look twice. There was an empty chair between two elderly ladies (one in a wheelchair) and Maggie simply went up to both the ladies and asked if she could sit there.
The ladies were ecstatic. Maggie reached over to touch the purple, velvet sleeve of the wheelchaired woman on her left (who can resist purple velvet?). The woman smiled and reached over in turn to feel Maggie's bare arm. They both nodded approvingly, as if sharing a private moment only they understood.
The woman on Maggie's right had a cold and was sniffing. Maggie too had been sneezing a bit (it's allergy season here) so when Mark handed Maggie a handful of tissue, she immediately gave one to the sniffing woman. The woman grinned and thanked her. They were kindred at once.

When Mark got up to lead singing there was a mixed response. He'd purposely picked golden oldies to lead...those with a slow enough pace so as not to leave anyone behind. Many sang with no trouble; some sang at the top of their lungs with no inhibitions, and one woman in the back (the one I'd assumed was vacant) clapped her hands the entire time Mark was singing.
You'd think this would be a distraction from worship. Quite the opposite. It was in fact a purification of the worship service. I looked at each tender, wrinkled face and noticed three things in common with each one.
First, no one used the book they'd been given. They knew the words and sang with no fumbling.
Second, there was no looking from side to side. The residents sang only to God. They cared not that the person next to them was off-key or sniffing or shaking or fidgeting.
Lastly, these precious people were all smiling. All of them. These songs must've been so beautiful to God.
I convinced myself that, if I closed my eyes, I could hear a perfect harmony among the cacophony of voices. I believe the angels couldn't help themselves from joining in.

When the sermon began, it was just as interesting as the singing had been. The residents had eyes only for the speaker and actually answered his questions. "I mean, what's the one thing we've always wanted, ever since we were little kids?" (the answer here was "approval" or "affirmation"). A strong voice from somewhere in the middle yelled, "TOYS!" :)

During the taking of the Lord's Supper, I saw the breaking of the bread as Jesus surely meant it to be. Those who shook uncontrollably were helped by their neighbors. Those who had no control over their faculties were helped by their neighbors. Those who seemingly stared vacantly at no one were helped by their neighbors. Everyone partook. And everyone partook as one unit. One body. Some became hands for others. Some became laps for others. We were complete.

After the service, it was time for the residents to return to their rooms. I caught on to the routine quickly. They needed help for multiple reasons. Some needed the physical help of traveling back. Some needed the mental help of remembering where their room was. Doors needed guarding for all the residents seem in the habit of wandering. More than once I heard someone saying, "Ooops. One's getting away. Come back, Dear!"
Before anyone had started their journey back, Luke jumped up (he's my four-year-old) and began making his rounds. He hugged as many as he could and told each of them, "I love you!" One woman said, "She's a pretty little girl." Luke didn't correct her. How he had the wherewithal is a mystery. Phoenix shook hands with them (my five-year-old little man) and instantly began helping fold the chairs back up.
Maggie and I braced a woman on each side and patiently shuffled her down the hall. She told Maggie she was a "helpful young man" and Maggie smiled and said thank you. We asked her where her room was and she replied, "I've gone and forgotten the words to it." Okay. Find the orderly.

We were so honored and blessed that morning. I WILL be returning. Sitting amidst such pure beauty is an experience that overwhelmed and fed my soul.