Mary and Margaret sat quietly sipping their soup. Sunlight poured in through the large glass windows of the dining room. Though it was a holiday, there were a number of people quietly eating their holiday luncheon, some sitting by themselves. It was surprisingly busy at the care facility for a day when businesses were closed and families were gathering to celebrate.
At the ripe old age of 99, an age she stubbornly refused to admit, Mary had outlived her family. Her husband had passed away years before and her son only recently. There was grandchild somewhere, who appeared at random times, allegedly for “gas money.” Margaret was simply unsure if she had any living relatives, but the staff confirmed there was no known family and no one visited her.
The soup bowls were removed and the salad brought. “Would you like turkey or roast beef?” the server asked with a warm smile. Mary chose turkey and Margaret roast beef, but only after a lot of questions about how it had been prepared. Mary talked about her husband-- her handsome husband -- and their life together. But it was her son’s death she was thinking about. “No one should have to bury a child.” Her tone was almost instructive.
After some gentle questioning, Margaret revealed she was from California. She had been a school teacher, but had never married. “The children I taught were my life.”
So went the meal: gentle questions and much repetition.
We were finishing the cheesecake and coffee when Mary began to ponder something. “Where is your family today?” she asked, holding us with her inquisitive gaze. Teresa and I looked at each other, surprised by the question.
“Our families are all back east,” I responded finally. Our daughter’s husband’s family lives in Virginia, so the two of them are back there spending the holidays with them. It’s just the two of us this year,” I finished with a smile.
Mary considered my answer for a few moments. “So you’re here because you needed someone to spend the holiday with I imagine.”
My response stuck in my throat. I was about to tell Mary and Margaret that we had made a special effort to spend the holiday with them. That we had even brought them presents. I wanted her to know we were good people who were trying to do a good thing for their benefit.
“Yeah, that’s about right,” I said finally. “We didn’t have anyone to spend the day with so we came here. Thank you for sharing this meal with us.”
Mary and Margaret looked at each other and smiled. “Glad we could be of help,” Mary responded. “You’re pretty good company, too.”
“Think we could get a little more coffee over here?” she said to the server.
Many of us view “being of service” to others as fulfilling their physical needs. And the importance of this type of service should not be diminished. We should feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, heal the sick and visit the lonely. There is, however, a deeper need that we often overlook while ministering to the physical needs of others.
We all need to feel valued and have the sense that our lives count for something. Often we judge our value by our careers. Productivity equals value. As a consequence of people living longer, we long out-live our careers and, for many of us, also the thing which gave value to our lives. Our seniors do still add value to the world, and we need to take every opportunity to remind them of that.
Teresa and I were being good stewards when we chose to spend time with Mary and Margaret on that holiday afternoon. And it would have been easy to take credit for what we were doing. But the greater gift was the one Mary and Margaret gave us – the vision to see that they were good stewards, too – sharing themselves with us and reminding us that every life and all time is a gift. Ours and theirs!
Dear God: Help me to add value to the lives of others.
“Helping, fixing and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul.” ~ Rachel Naomi Remen, clinical professor, holistic healer, speaker and writer.
©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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