WFMW: Visiting The Elderly

Yesterday, I called the "Retirement Village" around the corner from our house to schedule our annual Girl Scout Christmas Caroling Outing. This will be our 5th year of going and spreading a little Christmas Cheer with some "grandma and grandpas" as my girls lovingly call them.

We've learned a lot over the years about these special elders many of whom have dementia. We know that they like the classic Christmas Carols the best. Give them Silent Night and Angels We Have Heard On High and don't be surprised if they join along. The ladies tend to close their eyes on Silent Night and I wonder: where are they in their hearts and minds, where does the song take them back to, and what special memories are they reliving?

I've learned that my girls do better if we dress up a little bit. We don't wear anything too fancy, but just not your every day school outfit of jeans and shirts. For some girls, "Sunday Best" is not something they are used to, but it shows respect for the audience.

We used to bring cookies along to share with the residents, but two problems developed. First, the girls tended to eat them and, second, the residents have dinner right after our concert and it tends to ruin their dinner. Nice to know somethings never change.

Looking around at the eyes of the residents while the girls are singing, I've seen my share of happy tears and forlorn looks of pain. Occasionally, there are people whose eyes have been ravaged by disease like Alzheimer's or dementia and it breaks my heart to see the blank stares in those eyes. But, you know what, sometimes those very people are the ones who sing out every word of Away in the Manager or another old time favorite.

Those songs are planted deep within their souls and they are never lost. Alzheimer's cannot rob them of those seeds planted by God. I remember clearly my own grandmother who when it had been months since she'd really spoken, remembered anyone, or had been aware of her surroundings hummed along as my mother sang Amazing Grace at her bedside. There were tears streaming down both of their faces as they shared this wonderful old hymn.

Maybe the greatest lesson I've learned from taking my Girl Scouts and my own family to Retirement Communities is that there is something wonderful about bringing joy to the residents. Too many of us today have forgotten the "Greatest Generation" and how interaction with them brings you so many blessings while giving them much joy.

Sharing your gifts with those in the Retirement/Nursing Community Works for Me. For more Works for me check out:http://www.wearethatfamily.com/

Finally, this poem was passed along to me this week. It speaks volumes so I'll let it.

CRABBY OLD MAN

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Missouri . The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . .. . . when you're looking at me?

A crabby old man, . . . . ... not very wise,

Uncertain of habit . . . . .. . . ..... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . .. . .. . . . . and makes no reply .

When you say in a loud voice . . . . "I do wish you'd try!"

Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . .. . . . . . a sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . . . . lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding. . . . . . the long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking? . . . Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . ... as I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, . . . . . . as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten . . . . with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters . . . . . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen . . . . . . with wings on his feet

Dreaming that soon now . . . . . . . . a lover he'll meet..

A groom soon at twenty . . . . . . .my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows . . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five, now . . . . . . . . I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . . . and a secure happy home.

A man of thirty . . . . . . . ... My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . . . . . With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons . . . have grown and are gone,

But my woman's beside me . . . . .. to see I don't mourn.

At fifty, once more, . . . . . babies play 'round my knee,

Again, we know children . . . . . .. . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . .. . . .my wife is now dead.

I look at the future . . . .. . . . .. shudder with dread..

For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years,. . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . ... . . . . . . and nature is cruel.

Tis jest to make old age . . . . . . .. . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles . . . . . . grace and vigour, depart.

There is now a stone . . . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . a young guy still dwells,

And now and again . . . . . . . . my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys . . . . . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . .. . . . . .life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . .. . .. . gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . .. . . . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people . . .. . . . . . open and see.

Not a crabby old man. Look closer . . . .. see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within . . . . one day, we will all be there, too!