My mom entered a nursing home recently. Her length of stay unknown. A “hoping for the best, fearing the worst” kind of situation. A “never thought this would happen to me & my family” kind of situation. If you know what I mean.
At first, you wonder – but not really because you know – how you got here. And so you begin the blame game, with her then yourself then those closest to you. Next, you turn your attention outward, to the doctors, the insurance provider, the pharmaceutical companies. You have your thoughts & opinions as to why she’s suffering, why our nation is suffering, but you don’t want to add anything to the already deafening noise of the world. And you can’t go in circles with the blame game any longer because that will only lead to bitterness then to resentment then to a hard heart. You don’t want that.
I don’t want that.
Earlier this year, our pastor, Scott, quoted the phrase “not my fault but my responsibility,” and ever since, I’ve had it on a sticky note on my desk at work. Just because I’m not at fault doesn’t mean I can’t still take ownership, doesn’t mean I can’t still take action.
So I stopped by a nursing home – a nursing home that I have passed multiple times a day for the last five years – to ask if they had any volunteer opportunities available. Honestly, I was hoping to be kindly turned away because the thought of being around wheelchairs and oxygen tanks and slow speech and disabled bodies made me uncomfortable. My degree is in design not nursing. I didn’t think I could do it.
I wasn’t turned away, however, but welcomed. I was welcomed to help with their game of Bingo every Thursday afternoon. Assisting residents with their cards & chips, reading back numbers to the caller, sharing in the winner’s excitement. That’s where you can find me. I think that’s where you can find Jesus, too. At least that’s where I meet Him. Here at Bingo, with the hurting, the sick, the lonely, the forgotten.
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted” Psalm 34:18a
It amazes me that though I am in a position that makes me acutely aware of the frailty of human life, I feel ever closer to Jesus. Time slows down inside those four walls and what matters most becomes abundantly clear. We might talk about the weather or the foods we like. I might hear the same story told and retold, but my ability to listen & their opportunity to be heard, to be seen, to be known is really the whole purpose. Bingo is just a means.
And like my imperfect example, Jesus hears you, sees you, knows you, but He does so perfectly. He’s not distracted; His attention uninterrupted. His eyes are fixed on you, and He longs for our eyes to be fixed on Him. When we humbly submit ourselves to His call, discomfort and all, He is able to use our trials & tribulations, turning us from an inward position of self-pity to an outward expression of love.
For our good & His glory.