As a little girl of no more than five, my mother wanted to bless an older lady at Christmas. She lived around the corner, and we were going to visit. To me, Mrs. McIntyre was tottering with one foot in the grave. She may have been 70 or approaching 90. My “little girl” eyes saw a frail lady with an unusual voice (her heritage was Scottish) and swollen ankles. Her house smelled funny, probably because it remained shut tight most of the time. My mom had dressed me in a kilt, and Mrs. McIntyre exclaimed over me at the doorway.
We were ushered into a formal parlour, and I perched on a velvet chair. Dainties waited for us on a plate and the tea was poured into fragile cups. I had milk in a not-so-fragile cup. I had been reluctant and a little afraid of the visit, but this sweet lady won me over. She loved my kilt, plied me with more treats than my mother would ever have allowed, and seemed genuinely interested in me. By the end, we were chatting like old friends and when we left, I promised to come back.
I don’t remember if I ever did.
Sometimes it’s difficult to reach beyond my world, my schedule, my life, and move toward that of another. Especially if that “other” is an elder who, by our society’s standards, has little to contribute. It may hurt to remember them as they were and see the changes.
I have a friend who is being changed by Alzheimer’s. I want to hug her and somehow halt the relentless progress of the disease. I want to take away her pain, and that of her family’s. I want to make it stop.
I can’t. I need to remember, even with all the changes, my friend is still there. I need to love her, honour her and respect her for who she is. I have a treasure trove of memories, and maybe we will share some of them, but she is still my friend, greatly loved.
I’ve shared before, one of the most moving pieces of literature I know which expresses this perfectly. I challenge you to listen to “A Cup of Christmas Tea” and allow yourself to relate. The reluctance, the blaming, the surprise when he finds his great-aunt not so changed after all. And how that Christmas cup of tea touches and moves him as much and more than it did her.
Then have that tea with an elder in your life.
Merry Christmas!