Last night I met the neatest woman. Her name is Freeda and I met her as she sat in a chair, quietly in her room in a nursing home. When I walked into her room, I first noticed her roommate lying on a mattress on the floor. She was sleeping, but fitfully struggling with her her blouse that was entangled around her arm. I glanced at her, wondering if there was anything I could do to help. Freeda noticed my curious stare and said, "She rolls off her bed."
I knew that she was unaware of her neighbors clothing plight, so I responded with, "Oh. OK."
As I approached Freeda I noticed that she was smiling expectantly. I introduced myself and asked her how she was. Her response was, "Pretty good except I can't use my hands. They are too weak for me do anything." I looked at her hands. They were resting on the tray in front of her, shaking and drawn. I reached out and took her hands into mine. They were so soft. I encouraged her the best I could, trying to find something about her that she was pleased with herself. Sometimes with people in this stage of life, it is difficult for them to see anything good. I noticed this in conversations of many of the residents as I spoke to them. My hope was that I would leave her company having lifted her spirits. I knew that to make her feel good about herself would accomplish this goal.
As we spoke I noticed that she was very sharp for a woman her age. I wondered what she had been thinking about in the quietness of the room before I entered. Her roommate was sleeping, there was no television or radio in the room. There was no book or anything to read. I noticed some framed photographs, she and her husband in younger days, some children and grandchildren. Her mind was still active, I could tell by her conversation. A little slow to put her thoughts to words, but she made perfect sense. It seemed her memory was in very good shape.
We talked about the little cross on the ribbon that I had brought for her. She thought it was pretty, but wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it. She asked me to place inside of her drawer. As I did, she said, "Maybe I could put it in my hair?" I told her I thought that would be a great idea. Would she like for me to brush her hair?
What I saw next was the sweetest thing. Her eyes lit up like a little girl as she said, "If you want to." So, I brushed her hair as she told me how she lost it all when she was younger, how thick and pretty it had been, and how proud she was of her long dark hair years ago. I told her that her hair was beautiful, even now. I brushed and brushed while she talked. I then put her hair back into a little knot on the top of her head. She wanted to put the cross in her hair. So, I gently tied it and secured it to the top of her head. We found a mirror that she could look into. She said she hadn't seen her reflection in a long, long time. She held that mirror before her face to see her hair. Her eyes twinkled with happiness and her smile was big as I have ever seen.
What a blessing for me to be a blessing to Freeda. God's love was all over her face when I left her room. I think I will go buy her a mirror and take it to her. Maybe I will buy her a new hairbrush too, and fix her hair.
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