I don’t know her, but I do.
The dainty, grey-haired matron has always been cordial and welcoming to me for as long as I have known her.
I can tell she has always been a caretaker and a giver.
She often carries a bassinet with twin boys she introduces as, Gary Wade and Barry Adam.
She is a resident in the memory care unit of one of our local, long-term care facilities.
As a minister, I visit the sick and the shut-in of my congregation as I am able and that’s how I first met her.
I was visiting one of my members at the lunchroom table. They were playing Bingo, but they gladly stopped to visit with me, because I had taken the time to visit with them.
My member never really liked to share the attention, but I always tried to make time to visit with each one.
Many folks think of the residents there as sick and because of their challenges and the condition of their memory, believe they are unable to function socially any more.
I suppose that is the case with some of the more severely affected people, but there are many folks there who are exceptions to the rule.
In the fogs and mists of memory challenges, they are still there, the people we know and love and cherish.
I’ve changed her name. We’ll call her Mrs. C.
Visiting my member that day, Mrs. C came in neat as a pin and toting her bassinet very carefully.
“Hey!,” she said, almost startling me in the silence of the care unit. “My name is Mrs. C. What’s yours?”
I told her my name and then she introduced her twin boys in the bassinet, Gary Wade and Barry Adam.
I commented about how peaceful they looked as they were sleeping.
“Sleeping!,” she exclaimed in what could only be described as not her “inside voice”.
“They are not sleeping!,” she declared looking directly at me. “Their eyes are wide open!”
I looked and sure enough the two babies had their eyes open.
I smoothed it over by apologizing and complimenting her for teaching them to be well mannered and well behaved.
“I believe in raising them up right,” she declared smiling, and thanked me for the compliment.
For as long as I have been visiting, she looks me up for a few minutes each time. Mainly, it is just to say hello, to her and the boys.
Recently, I found my member and her and the other residents of the unit in the dining area. It was Christmas and they were doing a holiday craft after they had finished with lunch.
Mrs. C. did not have the bassinet, but assured me the boys were taken care of while she had come to her appointment.
“Preacher,” she said. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”
Throughout my ministry, I have always tried to make time to see about the flock.
She said she needed to see me in private, so we went to a corner of the cafeteria and sat down.
Out of her night gown, she pulled two small packs from the pocket and cusping her hands over mine, gave them to me.
I looked down to see two packets of Captain’s Wafers®.
“I want you to have these for coming to see us,” she said. “Merry Christmas! It’s my gift to you.”
I managed to hold back tears when I thanked Mrs. C. for her generosity.
I asked her if she was sure she couldn’t use the crackers for her soup or her salad.
“Oh, preacher they are yours,” she said, waving her hands. “Besides, we never run out!”
It was one powerful sermon that Mrs. C delivered that day, one of the best that I have ever heard — or seen.
It is what the Lord says when He told us it is more blessed to give than receive.
When you give to others, you get blessings in return.
They are blessings — which like the Captain’s Wafers — never run out.
• Jason Deal is the news editor for The Blackshear Times. Reach him at [email protected].
