Old Time Religion

It's hard to believe how far my mother has come in the past twelve months. A year ago she was pretty well bedridden and was on morphine to control her pain. I really didn't think she'd live until Christmas. I recall having one of those end-of-life talks with her back then. It didn't quite go the way I had envisioned. I talked about the richness of her life experiences. With her eyes shut, she nodded along in agreement as I went through the summary of her life. When I came to the part about joining her husband in heaven, she suddenly came to attention and snapped "I'm not ready yet". Oops, now what do I do? I didn't know so I backed off.

But now a year further down the road, she trolls the halls with her walker and other than a tremor in her right hand and poor vision, she's pretty darned healthy. And her pain is well controlled. She continues her slide into senility but most days she is quite content.

I hated the idea of nursing homes before all this. Now I am exceedingly grateful for the fine one we have here. It is short on frills with a plain decor but kindness abounds both from staff and from the many volunteers who serve the people on the unit. There are frequent religious activities: hymn sings, Bible lessons and devotions. The area churches do a fine job in that respect.

My only complaint is what many pastors chose to preach about to these people. The religious activities are attended by folks who would be in their pews on Sunday if they could. They are not reprobate heathens needing an altar call, yet one preacher after another seems to launch into threats that you better get saved before it's too late. Who do these Bible thumping pastors think these old people are? Do they think at all?

One week I happened to hear two of these zealous preachers give more or less the same "salvation" plug on subsequent days. I went away saddened. The old folks tuned out. They are good at that. But the next week, I caught a whiff of the Holy Spirit. A man was singing to the patients. And miracle of miracles they were singing along with him.They were even smiling. In his warm baritone, he was singing about laying burdens down and about what God has prepared for those that love him.I teared up when he launched into "One day at a Time, Sweet Jesus". I left the hospital with joy in my heart. I had a long tough day ahead, but from time to time I found myself singing softly "One hour at a time, sweet Jesus..."