Last weekend I led a workshop titled “Dementia Doesn’t Diminish a Person.” As part of the session, I shared a video from Teepa Snow’s website (www.teepasnow.com). (BTW, thanks @Heather A. for introducing me to Teepa’s resources.) In the video, Teepa emphasizes the importance of Productive Activity for those living with dementia. The video is instructive and inspirational as we watch several people with dementia work together with staff to make muffins.  

Everything about Teepa Snow’s “Positive Approach to Care” speaks to me, but the value of feeling productive, of contributing to the good of the world, THAT really speaks to me. If I had to name my greatest fears or worries about my future experience with dementia, knowing that at some point I might only be the recipient of care and not one who gives to others grieves me. I know, I know… our value is in who we are, not what we do. But… I know myself and how important it is for me to be a do-er. So what might I be able to do even when my cognitive skills are impaired? 

Why do I keep thinking about the muffins? The muffins… the muffins? (Keep reading) 

The “Dementia Doesn’t Diminish a Person” workshop was on Saturday, then Monday night we hosted a representative from an Atlanta seminary to share with our pre-ministerial students about things to consider when choosing a seminary. I want to expose our students to many different grad school options. As the representative was sharing, I was remembering my own seminary experience and my thoughts immediately went to Supervised Ministry. (Trust me, this has something to do with muffins.) 

The way that Supervised Ministry worked, at least back in my day, the school asked what your interests, strengths, and passions for ministry were. Then, they intentionally assigned you to a ministry setting that was very different and even uncomfortable so that we could gain experience (with supervision and feedback) to enable us to grow and expand our ministry skills. I was assigned to a “day shelter” for homeless men. Having grown up on a dirt road in South Georgia, a homeless shelter for men in a large city was definitely out of my “familiar” and “comfort” zone. But I had no choice. So… on my first day, feeling awkward and unsure of how to step into that space, I baked a bunch of homemade muffins to take with me and to share with each of the men who came to the shelter that day. The muffins were so appreciated, that I began baking regularly when I was scheduled to work there. I could tell that a “home cooked” gift was something rare for most of them in their current situation.  

One of the regular visitors whom I got close to was Darnell. He taught me a lot about my bias and assumptions. He was more highly educated than I was (as I worked on my masters degree.) He had had a very successful career. But then he had a trauma in his life and turned to alcohol to an extent that he lost his job and most of his significant relationships too.  Rather than enjoying retirement, Darnell was homeless and in poverty. He was smart and well-educated, he was kind and brave, and he was homeless.  

One day, a man I hadn’t seen before came in the door of the shelter. He was agitated and angry, you could tell. There weren’t many of us in the room, but his eyes immediately fell on me, the only woman present. He started walking toward me, speaking loudly, waving his hands. I started backing up, but soon I was standing against a wall. It all happened so quickly that it’s hard to recall the details. But right as the man reached me, Darnell came from out of the blue and stood between me and the angry stranger. The man’s arm was reaching over Darnell’s shoulder pointing at me and gesturing wildly. Then with a calm but firm voice, Darnell spoke saying, “Leave her alone. Leave her alone. She makes us muffins.”  

I remember my heart racing as I was thinking, “What a ridiculous thing to say.” Muffins. Who cares about muffins, really? The man stepped back and looked at Darnell, and looked at me, and he calmed down.  

Muffins. I don’t think I would have made the connection between the intentional productive activity of muffin making in Teepa Snow’s video and my seminary experience almost thirty years ago if I hadn’t been sitting with a group discussing grad school programs and options last night. But whoa… now that I have made the connection, I keep thinking about how muffins are not simply a snack. Muffins can be a means of grace, a sign of friendship and acceptance, a gift that reminds one of home.  

Please, someday in the future, when you come to visit me, let’s bake muffins together… or let’s make homemade cards that you can share along with muffins you bake for the homeless people in your town… or if at some point, I’m not able to bake or to write/draw, then bring a cookbook and let me choose which muffin recipe you’ll later make for the homeless community and help me feel just a tiny part of what you doing as you make a difference in our community. Remind me of Darnell and the courage and love he showed (he could have received a violent punch or even worse when he stepped between me and the angry man.) Remind me that we all matter and we all can make a difference. Thank you!