On my way to church this morning, I began to reflect on the relationship I have with my mom and what will life be like without her when she finally is released from her body.  As the tears flowed from my eyes, I realized it was not the healthy mom I think of in my grief, but the one I care for on such an intimate basis.  Had she not required my care over the last five years, we would not have such a strong connection.  She is not a burden to me but a precious life that I enjoy being with.  So when I think of life after she’s gone, I know I’ll miss the quality time we’ve spent  together and the many experiences we’ve enjoyed with others like her.

If you are called to care, don’t think you’re busy life is more important.  There are untold blessings in giving your life for another.

One of my favorite prayers is written by St. Francis of Assisi:

“May it be, O Lord, That I seek not so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love.  Because it is in giving oneself that one receives; it is in forgetting oneself that one is found; it is in pardoning that one obtains pardon.”

 Today was my last afternoon activity with the residents at the Special Care Assisted Living Facility where my mom lives.  We moved there September of last year.  Over the months, I have enjoyed getting to know the residents as they all gather in one big community room throughout the day.

At first, my purpose in knowing everyone was to help my mom feel a part of the group and become acquainted with her new “neighbors”.  As time went on, however, I began to look forward to my visits not only with my mom, but with my new friends as well.  After I spent some one on one time with my mom in her room or outside, we would move into the common area and visit with anyone who was interested.  One day mom and I sat at one of the round dining tables when soon everyone who could squeeze around the table was present.  We began to roll a small rubber ball back and forth between us.  After we got the hang of that, we added spontaneous singing. As elementary as this may seem, we all enjoyed the challenge of keeping the ball on the table and the familiar songs. This became a regular occurrence. It kept the residents engaged until suppertime and boosted everyone’s spirits.

Sometimes we connected a speaker to my smartphone and played music from their era and took any requests that came up.  It was like sitting around the record player and listening to all our favorite music.  To look around the table at the smiles and broken sentences was pure joy. From my favorite singing partner who could harmonize with and follow anything I sang, to my tall friend who could play the harmonica and my dear little friend who could only see shadows and hear when I spoke loudly into her ear, I will always remember you with great fondness.

Some of those folks have already passed to their eternal destiny.  I was privileged to have been at the bedside of several of my new friends as they began their approach to their new life in heaven.  The families also became very precious to me, along with many of the staff members of the facility.

Now we must move to a higher level of care as my mom’s abilities have declined.  As difficult as it is to leave our friends at this place, I know the next place offers new friends and unknown possibilities.

Good-bye, Brookside.   I’ll always cherish the time spent with you and expect one day, “in the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.”