One of the highlights of my week these days is singing with the residents at our local assisted living facility. Sometimes the routine of it can feel like drudgery, but once I get in there and start singing with them, I am always grateful that I came. Music has that kind of power...especially the old hymns.
Serving the forgotten generation brings such joy. I wish you could see them, waking out of their fog to music that they've known for decades. I wish you could hear Miss Vivian crow like a rooster when we sing "Old MacDonald Had a Farm." I wish you could experience the atmosphere shift in the room when the critically ill, Alzheimer's and dementia patients forget their anxieties for a moment and truly enjoy the music. I wish you could hear the grumpy ones speak up suddenly and teach me an old song I've never heard before, and then hear the rest of the group chime in to sing along.
I wish you could feel what I feel, when I look out on these precious people and realize that, though their days seem bleak right now, Jesus' heart burns for them just as much as it does for me. He longs to comfort them and to bring them joy.
Some days, He uses me to help do that. And I'm so grateful.
By the way, I asked Miss Vivian to be my grandma. She said yes. :)
Who is the forgotten generation in your life? Have you considered how you might reach out to them with the love of Jesus?
musings from the journey (a girl discovering grace)
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