I wasn’t going to write a Christmas or holiday article this year, but here we are. I couldn’t NOT write this, although, trust me, I tried.
This one is quite different, however. It’s about making a difference and, well…meet my new family.
The holidays are difficult for many people for a variety of reasons. Layers upon layers of loss and grief of all different descriptions.
Sometimes, as we lose people in our lives and there aren’t any in the “next generation” to fill new seats at the table. Then, there are none left.
Sometimes, we have recently lost a dear pet. Often, we’re closer to our pets than other humans, and their death is devastating. Our fur-family loves us unconditionally.
Sometimes, family is far away, or drifts away, or worse.
Sometimes, a run of bad luck, bad choices, or poor health leaves people in dire straights.
Sometimes, it’s the dark, cold, and grey of unrelenting winter – or maybe all of the above.
So, in a moment of insanity about 10 days ago, I decided to stop by a local Medicare/Medicaid facility to see if they had someone who needed something. Something as in something physical, such as clothes, or a visitor.
In particular, I had a hand-made cover to donate, with a few more in reserve.
I spoke with the aids a week ago Sunday, and they were talking about three people who didn’t have enough clothes. One woman only had one change. That’s all she owned.
I returned on Monday to speak with the administrator about how best to proceed.
This is a small facility with about 45 residents. It’s clean but rather threadbare. There’s no urine smell, which is always a good sign, and also no bleach smell or other “coverup” scents. The staff is very nice, welcoming, and caring.
The residents all appear to be clean and they don’t smell. It’s both an assisted living and memory care facility, but I’ve come to learn that even the people on the assisted living side are very close to needing the memory care side.
Why am I telling you this?
Because, as difficult as this is for me, there’s a huge blessing here for others. They really need us. Plus, it’s my holiday story for you.
Maybe I should subtitle this: The 10 Days of Holiday Insanity, because we’ve visited every day, and every day has held surprises of one sort or another.
I’ve disguised names. They have all given permission to take and publish their pictures, but all things considered, I’m not sure they have the agency to understand that, so all photos are disguised, too.
I discovered that they like to have their pictures taken with whatever they received and then be shown the photo. I always ask them to smile and tell them how wonderful they look – and they light right up. And everyone of them likes the photo when I show them. They also like to look at photos on my phone.
I’m borrowing liberally from my Facebook page where I’ve written about this adventure day by day. I’ll pause here to thank others. I never asked for donations of anything, but many of my friends reached out with offers and goods. Thank you to those who have helped and contributed in any way, including moral support. This hasn’t been exactly easy for me.
To be VERY clear, I’m NOT asking you for anything except to perhaps look around your community to see where you can make a difference.
Meet my three adopted family members this holiday season.
Steve
Steve has no family, at all. Translated, that means he has the barest necessities.
He’s a veteran, and after he got out of the service, he was a metal fabricator, a “tin man,” as he puts it.
He likes cars and trucks. But mostly, he likes snacks. Not healthy snacks like the facility provides, but the kind of bad-for-you snacks that all of us like.
He doesn’t feel well often, so we sometimes just have to leave his gift by the side of his bed in the gift bag and talk to him for a few minutes.
The other thing he likes to do is sit outside on the patio, so we got him a blue denim shirt, some sweatpants, a couple of t-shirts, and a patriotic throw for his bed.
Plus snacks, lots of snacks.
Ellen
Ellen is such a lovely lady. She knows that she’s forgetting things, and it worries her. She asked for puzzle books so that she can keep her mind sharp.
She doesn’t remember me from day to day unless I give her memory queues.
For example, one afternoon, she was sitting in the activity room, and outside, a fox wandered through the backyard. The building backs up against the woods.
Ellen was up and out the door like a shot. Past the patio like a sprinter. Immediately, the staff was off to retrieve her – but Ellen was thrilled to see that fox and quickly rounded the building.
Now, every day when I visit, I ask if she remembers the fox, and every day, you can see the light bulb come on, and she says she thought she was dreaming. She does sleep a lot. She’s always thrilled to know the fox was real.
Ellen has received several pieces of clothing, a throw for her bed for napping, which she does liberally, plus puzzle books.
Her favorite thing, though, is to visit and look at pictures on my phone. We look at dogs and cats and quilts and my daughter and whatever else she wants to look at. Sometimes, she tells me stories.
I just love Ellen. She’s a beautiful soul, concerned for all animals and people, and just lovely.
Bear
Bear, bless his heart.
Bear is someplace in his 80s, although he doesn’t remember how old he is. I can’t help but think about my ancestors who didn’t either.
Bear was a Navy Seal and then a farmer. He loves Harley Davidson motorcycles and thinks he still owns one or some. I don’t know that he ever did, but that doesn’t matter. He does in his mind and it makes him happy.
I’ve confirmed his military service, plus I’ve seen his literal physical scars.
His picture from when he graduated from boot camp is on his dresser. He served in Vietnam and was shot 6 times in his knees and once in the back.
You may recall that I lost my brother to the long-term effects of being shot down in Vietnam. I told him my brother served and was shot down. He asked if Dave lived. I teared up. He hugged me. We both cried. He told me that he was sorry.
I went to the local Harley dealer hoping to score some free Harley gear for Bear, but that didn’t work. A helpful employee showed me the closeout clothing rack, though, and gave me a 25% discount – plus, my friends began to donate.
We went back that same day with a Harley cap for Bear and the next day with a Harley t-shirt. He showed me his boot from when he was a little boy and told me that he was one of 10 children. How hard his mother had it raising them on the farm.
People love it when you ask them about their lives and show interest in their stories.
He’s incredibly proud of his military service.
The next day, I found him a flag and Constitution shirt. He had trouble reading it, so I read it aloud to him as he cried.
OMG!
I cried too.
We hugged each other.
God bless this man.
He does have moments of clarity. I saw him smile with a glint of recognition when he first saw me and cheerily said, “Hello.”
I’ve gone every day, but yesterday…well…Bear was having a rough day.
He told me his mother died, and they wouldn’t let him leave to go to her funeral.
He had her picture on his table and was truly distressed.
I gave him a hug and distracted him with his gifts.
We gave him a patriotic throw for his bed, which he loved, and two Harley wall decorations. His room is so very bare. He wanted to find his Harley hat, so we did and put it on him.
Then he told me about his mother again and that her funeral is today.
I have way too much experience with this from prior family members, so I told him the funeral is over now. I told him I thought he went on his Harley. I asked him if he didn’t remember the funeral, and he said he did. I could tell he felt better.
Whew!
Then he told me he was going to be in a parade. Told me he was getting ready to go out to eat before the parade.
I asked him where, and we had a nice conversation about who-knows-what.
Another resident came in and tried to flirt with him. That was so cute. She asked if I was his wife, and I had to explain to both of them that I’m married to someone else.
He said, “but you’re my family, right, because you come to see me.” I told him that I had adopted him and yes, I’m family.
My heart just aches.
Then he asked if I wanted to go for a ride on his Harley with him. I told him I had to go back to work, so we’d have to do that some other time, and he was fine with that. I told him I’d be back tomorrow, which made him happy.
I know he won’t remember 10 minutes later, but he’s happy right now and he’s happy for a little bit every day that I show up.
He wants to visit with Jim again. He told Jim earlier in the week that he has a good handshake. He’s so happy when anyone comes to visit. You can see all the residents look hopefully when someone walks by.
Bear asked if he could kiss my cheek goodbye. I gave him a hug, too, and a kiss on the cheek.
I was walking out the door to his room when he turned in his wheelchair, looked at me, smiled, and said, “Love you,” just like my brother Dave used to do. That was the last thing Dave ever said to me. I smiled and said, “Love you,” and quickly escaped down the hallway past the lady who is always screaming and the people who wander aimlessly all day, tears streaming down my face for their loneliness.
I am not good at this. I would much rather die than be abandoned and confused.
I hope someday someone is kind enough to tell me that I attended my mother’s funeral, and listen to my stories about a cowboy boot. Or maybe my stories will be about my ancestors.
The Shelter
I didn’t mean to go to the shelter. Truly, I didn’t.
On Friday, the administrator of the assisted living home where our three adopted people live declined 8 or 9 personal-size quilts or lap robes, whatever you would call them. She said they already have “so many blankets.” Needless to say, I was stunned. They were for the residents, not the “facility.” However, we had little choice except to take them back home.
Then, CASA wasn’t taking donations either. Seriously??? I began to question if people really do like the quilts I make them, or if they are just being nice. Now I see how quilts wind up at Goodwill.
A third place said they like soft, plushy blankets, not cotton. WHATEVER.
On the way home, I was really struggling with where to donate those small quilts where they would actually be appreciated. It was depressing. I already struggle with the holidays, and this didn’t help at all.
Then, two things happened. First, I got a notice on my phone that the local warming shelter would be open tonight for homeless people who sleep on the ground in various places. Just so you know, this includes children.
These people are in dire need. Some from their own poor choices, some from mental illness, some from whatever. It doesn’t matter. Many here got flooded out in two back-to-back hurricanes. One woman lives in her car. Once you’re in that situation, it’s extremely difficult to get out of it.
This clicked with what my friend had posted that morning about having lost her son several years ago today.
I immediately knew what we needed to do.
We went home and gathered more things. Warm felt booties and socks, plus another blanket. When the church that offers their building as the warming center opened for donations at 5:30, we were waiting.
They were grateful. So very grateful.
They said the people would love that their little quilt came in a gift bag. I wondered how long it had been since they had a gift, as such.
When we left, their clients were waiting patiently in line for a warm place, a hot meal, often the only hot meal since they were last there, and some shred of dignity. Many of the donations are things like underwear and socks. They can also safely shower there. There is no homeless shelter in this county.
The entire warming center is volunteer staffed and solely run on donations from the community, including food.
They said they accommodate from 20-35 people per night when it drops below 39 degrees, and so far this season, they have helped 88 people. Many people are repeat clients. Yes, they call them clients.
I couldn’t help but think how this was actually fulfilling Christ’s mission. How he said to care for the least of us. He didn’t say except for those most in need or the ones with very serious problems, or the ones that are inconvenient or can’t remember your name. If I recall, he said something about not being judgmental, too.
So, we remembered and honored my friend’s son today with our contributions. I knew that they would be going into the woods tomorrow when the shelter closed after breakfast, but they would at least be in the possession of someone who truly needs them.
Then Jim and I got Chinese on the way home, and my fortune was truly eerie.
This is your fortune, too, and really, the fortune for all of humanity.
So I ask you…
Look around.
Who needs their hand held, a hug, or some time?
Maybe a hot meal or some snacks.
A helping hand of some type.
Just someone to listen.
Who needs walking home?
