With mom in the wheelchair and still in a temporary “boot,” she isn’t supposed to put any weight on her foot.  That makes it hard to go out and about, transferring her from wheelchair to car and back, especially in the cold and rain.  So once again tonight, I grabbed the United Methodist hymnal and went to visit her in her space.

While others talked or watched TV, mom and I went over to the piano.  “What song would you like to hear?”  Her first request was Wonderful Words of Life. 

Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life
Words of life and beauty teach me faith and duty.

Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.

Always in the first hymn I play, she starts to cry and miss my dad.  I’m prepared for that and comfort her.  Then we keep singing  Amazing Grace, Take Time to be Holy, Let us Break Bread Together.  Then she asks for it again:

Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life
Words of life and beauty teach me faith and duty.

Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.

We’re in the middle of the hymn when Fran walks over.  Fran is another resident at the assisted living.  I work with her son, so I feel a special connection to Mrs. Fran and always enjoy visiting with her.  She talks a lot, but it’s worth noting that her many phonetic sounds rarely come together to create words you can follow.  You might even say that she’s talkative, but Fran is very hard to understand.

Because I’m playing piano, I don’t pause to speak to Fran in this moment.  But mom stops singing and they exchange words.  Fran hugs mom then walks away.  But mom, I notice, still isn’t singing.  Why?  Because she’s crying!

“Mom!  What’s wrong?!”

“I want to help that lady.  She’s so sweet, but I don’t know how to help her.  She needs something, I can tell.  We should take her out to a nice dinner or something.  I just want to help her…”

Fran has a loving family and to the best of my knowledge, her needs are well attended to.  But Fran’s confusion and muddled speech leave the impression with mom that something is really wrong.  I’m moved at mom’s tenderness and compassion.  “I just want to help her…”

Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life
Words of life and beauty teach me faith and duty.

Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.

Beautiful words…

the lyrics of the hymn, written in 1874 by Philip Bliss…

the muddled jargon from Fran to mom…

the tearful generosity expressed by mom…

Beautiful words, all of them.

I pause to reflect at the end of a long day.  How many words did I speak today that were unkind, snarky, frustrated, egotistical, limited to my own perspective, hopeless…?  There were words I wouldn’t be proud to record here, no doubt.  Tomorrow, I’m going to try to be more like Mr. Bliss of 1874, more like Mrs. Fran, more like mom.

I found my inspiration at the assisted living home tonight.  Yeah, I found my inspiration in the kind of place that many people avoid, from the people that many others pity.  Perhaps you think that one’s days of creativity and possibility are over once dementia sets in and your independence is gone.  Not at all.  The more time I spend there, the more I learn and grow.  Tonight I found wonderful words of life.

May your day be filled with wonderful words of life also.