"Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God." (Teilhard de Chardin)
Such a moment occurred last Sunday at a nursing home where one of our elderly parishioners suffering from dementia was being cared for.
Many years ago, Gertrude and I would go together to bring Communion to our shut-in parishioners. She was a painfully shy woman who could not bring herself to go alone but wanted very much to participate in this ministry. Gertrude loved to help the sick and for many years, she nursed people in their homes.
As the years passed, Gertrude herself became homebound and slowly became a victim of dementia. I visited her many times to bring her Communion.
About two years ago, my visits ceased when Gertrude was placed in a nursing home. One of our other parishioners had been visiting her and she continued to do so at the several nursing homes Gertrude was moved in and out of. I could no longer keep track of her because I now had others I was visiting.We now have a new pastor. One of the things we wanted to do was to introduce him to our shut-ins. This we have begun doing.
However, before taking our priest to visit Gertrude, I wanted to visit her myself to see how she was and to determine whether or not she could receive Communion. Rosemary, who had now visited her many times, thought that Gertrude could no longer understand what the Sacrament was about. That her dementia was too far advanced. So, we arranged a Sunday after Mass when I could accompany Rosemary and another parishioner to visit Gertrude.
We arrived at the nursing home and waited in the parlor until the nurse brought Gertrude to us in her wheelchair. I did not think she would remember me after so long a time, so I said very little.
Rosemary and Mieko sat on either side of Gertrude and were talking to her and showing her the Christmas gift they had brought. Gertrude recognized them. Suddenly she looked over to me; and with a look of incredible joy lighting up her face, she recognized me. I was absolutely overwhelmed... She wouldn't stop looking at me and she wouldn't stop smiling. I went over to her and tenderly stroked her hair as my tears fell. She held out her hand to me and spoke my name several times. Most of her words are now incoherent but she tried hard to communicate with us.
I was so moved because I recognized that this moment was a sacred one for Gertrude and for us who witnessed it. I thank God for this gift.
Even though she cannot speak coherently, she understood what we were saying. I told her the next time I came to visit, I would bring our priest with me. Again, her face broke out in a smile. If we had brought Communion to her that day, she could have received it and understood.
There's a lesson here. We simply don't know what an impact simple actions on our part can have on another person. All those times that Gertrude and I visited the sick together must have meant much more to her than I could ever have guessed.
The joy that God's presence brings was surely in that room with us that day.
Photo by Mieko via IPhone during our visit with Gertrude.
