I visited an old friend today. It had been 9 years since I had last seen her.
That last time, unfortunately, was at her late husband's funeral. Life had called me to a different place to serve, and though we had lost touch, I would not forget about people like Carole.
I heard she wasn't doing well as of late—her memory's been fading and her energy weak. Most days she's confined to life on a wheelchair, being helped by her caretaker Francis. When the pastors asked me if I wanted to join them in a visit, I did not hesitate.
When I saw her, she remembered me instantly. "The last time I saw you, you were still a single young man." When I showed her a picture of my wife and daughter, she lit up. What a beautiful family, she said. We caught up like two old friends who crossed paths at a cafe. Her son tells me her mind is sharpest in two senses: when people are visiting, and when she's praying.
We sang songs, read the Bible, and took communion together. At the end, we asked Carole to close our time in prayer.
"Lord, it has been so long since we've been together, but I thank you for bringing us here today. I hope I will be alive and well enough to return to church one day."
As I left, I felt a deep peace mixed with a tinge of sadness. I admired how she has kept an abiding joy in the face of pain. I also lamented how Death, like a bandit, comes to steal the people whom we love in this world. I know this isn't it—there's hope of one day—but I don't know when I'll see her again.
I mention Carole because she was one of the first seniors at church to welcome and care for me. And because of her and countless other seniors like her, I felt loved enough even as a recent college grad to remain at that community and build memories over the years. And eventually return.
I think about all the people who loved me into loving, who smiled me into smiling. What a blessing—I don't dwell on that nearly enough. As long as we have today, let us not wait. To hug them, love them, appreciate them.
Here I was, thinking we would make her day, but she made mine.