That's what you're supposed to do
I've never considered myself a "scripture quoter extrordinaire" but I do have a clue what the Bible tells us. Jesus instructs us to feed the hungry, tend the sick, visit the prisoners, clothe the naked, and welcome the stranger, because as we do this we also care for Him. If everyone would just do this sort of thing, how much better the world would be!
My aunt and I were talking last night about my grandmother. When there was a death or illness or new baby in a family, Mawmaw would cook enough food to feed an Army. As I'd load dish after dish in the trunk of her "land yacht" she would caution me about setting things where they wouldn't spill, even though I had loaded more food for her during my teenage years than a catering company. But Mawmaw was a well-loved and well-respected lady. Even now, almost 15 years after her death, it is like proclaiming royal lineage when I tell someone that I am Louise's granddaughter! If anyone entertained angels unaware, it was Mawmaw.
I consider myself very fortunate to have grown up with lots of good examples to follow. I was taught that you don't do things because you expect something in return. You just do them because that is what you're supposed to do. Daddy always told me to be good to the old folks because they need somebody, and through my work in the nursing homes I have always tried to live by those words. I have met some interesting people and made many wonderful friends that way.
JT was a man that I only got to know over the past year. As the brother of my aunt, growing up I knew who he was and that was about it. Alcohol played a prominent part in his life in his younger days. JT also served time in prison for the killing of his adult son. But JT came into my life in 2005. My uncle asked me to look after him when he had to come into the nursing home following the amputation of his leg. Over the next few months JT lost more of that leg, as well as the other one too. But he and I built a friendship that I treasure. I'd explain his medical conditions as best as I could and try to get answers for him on things. I gave my honest opinions on his prognosis. In return he'd try his hardest in therapy, eventually getting to the point that he could get himself in and out of the bed and do pretty much as he pleased. I spent many afternoons before leaving work sitting on the foot of his bed just shooting the breeze! He went to live with my aunt and uncle for seven months before passing away last weekend. I must have made some kind of impression on him, because my aunt called one morning and said he had called out for me all night in his confusion. At his funeral on Tuesday, I was pleased to see a large crowd, though his own kids did not come. In my year-long acquaintance I found JT to be a kind man with a good sense of humor, so I went to say goodbye to someone I am glad to have had as a friend.
My husband's grandfather had a friend who did prison time for a white-collar crime. When the man was released, he lived with Grandad for while. The tall, robust gentleman who came to our wedding was replaced by a frail, sickly old man. This man, who at one time was worth millions, would attend church with our family in a suit gotten from a thrift store. He was eventually able to get a small apartment of his own. After Grandad's death we helped take some of his things over to him. He just seemed so lost and pitiful that I gave him a slip of paper with my name and number on it. I told him not to sit there alone and need food or medicine, to call me any time and I would come. Some months later he missed an appointment with his parole officer, got scared they would take him back to prison, and disappeared. Around 2 AM one morning I was awakened by a phone call from a hospital chaplain asking if I knew this man. The chaplain said he had been in the hospital for a number of days and had just passed away. The only name and number he had on him was mine.
I cannot speak as to what someone was like before I knew them. I only know both of these gentlemen were always kind-hearted to me and had a good sense of humor. One died with his sister and her family by his side. One died alone among strangers. But both knew there was at least one person on this earth that cared.
My aunt and I were talking last night about my grandmother. When there was a death or illness or new baby in a family, Mawmaw would cook enough food to feed an Army. As I'd load dish after dish in the trunk of her "land yacht" she would caution me about setting things where they wouldn't spill, even though I had loaded more food for her during my teenage years than a catering company. But Mawmaw was a well-loved and well-respected lady. Even now, almost 15 years after her death, it is like proclaiming royal lineage when I tell someone that I am Louise's granddaughter! If anyone entertained angels unaware, it was Mawmaw.
I consider myself very fortunate to have grown up with lots of good examples to follow. I was taught that you don't do things because you expect something in return. You just do them because that is what you're supposed to do. Daddy always told me to be good to the old folks because they need somebody, and through my work in the nursing homes I have always tried to live by those words. I have met some interesting people and made many wonderful friends that way.
JT was a man that I only got to know over the past year. As the brother of my aunt, growing up I knew who he was and that was about it. Alcohol played a prominent part in his life in his younger days. JT also served time in prison for the killing of his adult son. But JT came into my life in 2005. My uncle asked me to look after him when he had to come into the nursing home following the amputation of his leg. Over the next few months JT lost more of that leg, as well as the other one too. But he and I built a friendship that I treasure. I'd explain his medical conditions as best as I could and try to get answers for him on things. I gave my honest opinions on his prognosis. In return he'd try his hardest in therapy, eventually getting to the point that he could get himself in and out of the bed and do pretty much as he pleased. I spent many afternoons before leaving work sitting on the foot of his bed just shooting the breeze! He went to live with my aunt and uncle for seven months before passing away last weekend. I must have made some kind of impression on him, because my aunt called one morning and said he had called out for me all night in his confusion. At his funeral on Tuesday, I was pleased to see a large crowd, though his own kids did not come. In my year-long acquaintance I found JT to be a kind man with a good sense of humor, so I went to say goodbye to someone I am glad to have had as a friend.
My husband's grandfather had a friend who did prison time for a white-collar crime. When the man was released, he lived with Grandad for while. The tall, robust gentleman who came to our wedding was replaced by a frail, sickly old man. This man, who at one time was worth millions, would attend church with our family in a suit gotten from a thrift store. He was eventually able to get a small apartment of his own. After Grandad's death we helped take some of his things over to him. He just seemed so lost and pitiful that I gave him a slip of paper with my name and number on it. I told him not to sit there alone and need food or medicine, to call me any time and I would come. Some months later he missed an appointment with his parole officer, got scared they would take him back to prison, and disappeared. Around 2 AM one morning I was awakened by a phone call from a hospital chaplain asking if I knew this man. The chaplain said he had been in the hospital for a number of days and had just passed away. The only name and number he had on him was mine.
I cannot speak as to what someone was like before I knew them. I only know both of these gentlemen were always kind-hearted to me and had a good sense of humor. One died with his sister and her family by his side. One died alone among strangers. But both knew there was at least one person on this earth that cared.
posted by Jennifer at 8:19 AM
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