Beatitudes For Friends Of The Aged

Back in May, Caleb and his family drove down to NC for a visit and stopped at Mom’s house for the night. The girls and I were there with Mom and I really enjoyed seeing Great Grandma interact with the little ones.

The next morning, I helped Mom with a few things before fixing Annaleigh’s breakfast and getting her dressed for the day. A trip to Kroger was on Mom’s to-do list that morning so Annaleigh got to go along for the ride. As usual, Mom’s walker went in the buggy while she pushed it through the store. Toward the end of our grocery trip, I put Annaleigh in Mom’s buggy, and there they were – almost 98-year-old Great Grandma leaning for support on the same cart that 2-year-old great-granddaughter was riding in.

Not long after that little trip to the store, I began thinking of Mom and Annaleigh. On one end of the spectrum was a two-year-old desiring to gain independence. On the other end of the spectrum was a nearly 98-year-old desiring to maintain her independence as long as possible. Both of them needed some assistance that day. But beyond the assistance they needed that morning, I couldn’t help but think of other similarities concerning their needs:

Annaleigh needs encouragement from me to try new things. Mom needs encouragement from me to keep trying.

Annaleigh needs patience from me as she tries. Mom needs patience from me as she tries.

Annaleigh needs me to slow down for her little steps. Mom needs me to slow down for her unsteady steps.

Annaleigh loves for me to stop what I’m doing and just listen. Mom loves for me to stop what I’m doing and just listen.

Annaleigh needs to know that I think she’s important. Mom needs to know that I think she’s important.

The above is certainly not all that could be said but ultimately, a two-year-old needs love…and a ninety-eight-year-old needs love.

As a mother to six, did I always meet the needs of my two-year-old children (or any age, for that matter)? No. I’m afraid not.

The girls and I have had more opportunities to spend time with Mom these past several months, for which I am thankful. During this time, though, have I always met her needs? No. I’m afraid not.

Although I have certainly failed on both ends, the above thoughts as well as the following poem have served as a reminder for me. I came across the poem not long after that visit in May. It was at Mom’s house – in the drawer of a desk that Anna and I were cleaning out. The author, Esther Mary Walker, wrote it in 1958 while caring for her aged father.

Beatitudes for Friends of the Aged

Blessed are they who understand
    My faltering step and palsied hand.

Blessed are they who know my ears today
    Must strain to catch the things they say.

Blessed are they who seem to know
    My eyes are dim and wits are slow.

Blessed are they who looked away
    When coffee spilled at breakfast today.

Blessed are they with a cheery smile
    Who stop to chat for a little while.

Blessed are they who never say
    You told that story twice today.

Blessed are they who know the way
    To bring back memories of yesterday.

Blessed are they who make it known
    That I am loved, respected and not alone.

Blessed are they who know I’m at a loss
    To find the strength to carry my cross.

Blessed are they who ease the days
    Of my journey home in loving ways.

Esther Mary Walker – 1958