Do we see the need?



My inlaws when they were young

 This weekend I want to step aside from my usual blogging material and consider our forgotten generation. We all get so caught up with life, it's easy to ignore the people who have added so much to those busy lives.

Max's story -

Max was the best greeter. Walking into the grocery store was always nicer the days Max was there. He just went above and beyond the normal greeter duties. He was especially caring toward people with physical challenges. He took extra time to make sure they were okay, or didn’t need any help getting a cart or using one of the electric shopping scooters.

When Max smiled at his customers, it wasn’t just a polite, how-do-you-do kind of smile. His grin was contagious and spread all the way across his face. His eyes couldn’t help but join in. His presence in the entryway of the storeis eyeHis  brightened my day many times.

Over time Max slowed down a bit. He developed Parkinson’s disease, and after a while, couldn’t stand in the entry way for long. My friend, Kimberly, remembers the day she realized Max wasn’t there anymore. That was five years ago. I wonder about him too. Although neither of us really knew him, other than from the store, he left an indelible mark on our hearts with his kindness and contagious smile.

Kimberly had to stop by that store on her way home the other evening:

I was running late and hadn’t taken anything out of the freezer to cook for supper. I dashed into the store, grabbed my cart, and… ugh…it was stuck to the cart behind it. I tried one in the next row - stuck too. Wrestling to unstick my cart, while the greeter chatted with someone a few feet away, I thought of Max. He would have never let a customer fight with those carts. He un-stuck them before we ever walked through the door and handed them off to us like a baton being handed to a relay-runner.

Finally, the cart released and I headed to the produce department. Onions in the cart I headed toward the next item on my short list. The store was crowded. I was beginning to think the evening was designed as a lesson in patience. Traffic jams in every aisle slowed my pace considerably.  I finally inched past a cluster of women sharing baby stories and rounded the end-cap toward pasta, almost hitting a man sitting on one of those electric shopping scooters. The end-cap was filled with gallon sized bottles of cranberry juice. I stopped to wait for him to make his selection and move on. Traffic whizzing by us made it seem smarter to wait. He was a frail looking man with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that were too pronounced. A black baseball hat covered his head and blocked his eyes from view. He was just staring at the juice, and shaking. My heart broke. I thought of Max. Max would have helped him.

“Do you need some help with that juice sir?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t offend him.

He nodded, but didn’t look up.

I placed the juice in the basket of the scooter, he thanked me and we went on with our shopping. It always breaks my heart to see our senior citizens becoming frail. I always wonder what lessons I could learn from them and what they dreamed their life would be like.

I collected my last few items to make beef stroganoff and headed to the registers. As I loaded my items on the belt, I noticed the man with the juice behind me. I inched up to give him room. His tremors were even stronger than they had been a few minutes before. He reached toward the items in the cart a couple of times, but the shaking wouldn’t allow him to pick them up.

“Can I put those on the belt for you?”

He nodded.

“Parkinson’s?” I wondered if my question was rude.

“Yes. And I had a stroke.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.” I knew it was shallow, but I didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not.”

I finished putting his items on the belt. It wasn’t much, but I wondered if he needed help to his car.

He said he would appreciate the help.

“Thank you, now I just have to figure out how to get these into my house.”

“How about if I follow you home and I can take them in your house for you.”

I hoped he didn’t think I was overstepping my boundaries. I didn’t even know his name, yet I found myself compelled to help him. Slowly he nodded.

It was my turn to check out. I glanced sideways to make sure the gentleman’s things were okay on the belt as it moved forward. That’s when I saw it. There was something familiar about his face as he smiled at me.

“Is your name Max?” I half hoped I was wrong, but his smile was unmistakable.

His frail, shaking hands fumbled with his wallet to get his money ready for his turn with the cashier. “Yes.”

I wanted to cry. The last time I saw him he was strong, and while I knew the toll diseases like Parkinson’s takes on people, I definitely didn’t expect such a complete change in his appearance.  

Kim helped Max to his car, and then followed him home and put his groceries in the house for him. She had only known him briefly before he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. She didn’t even know his last name. Still, seeing him so changed by the disease was heartbreaking.

As I thought of this story, it was Kim’s willingness to help someone, even before she knew who they were. Are we aware of needs around us every day? Do we notice when someone is struggling along our path? Or do we pass by, pretending we don’t see them? How often do we run across opportunities to reflect Jesus in someone’s life? How often do we miss it?

Kim’s glimpse into Max’s life exposed the dilemma many of our senior citizens face. Max’s wife passed away. He doesn’t have any children close-by. He spent his whole life helping other people, and now he struggles to even pick up a few groceries. Sure, there are service like meals on wheels and the senior center that provide some help. But who check’s on Max and other seniors like him. Who would know if he fell, or got sick? Kim and I plan to check on Max once in a while and reach out to see if there are some other needs we can meet.

I wish Max’s story was unique. It’s not. Every Day in our Country, aging Americans who were once strong, hard-working, loving, people, try to make it through another day. They push through pain, loneliness and even abuse by society, to get from morning to night. The company they keep often has 4 legs and fur because there is no conditionality on their love.



My mother-in-law at 79

 So what do we do? Stay alert. When you can help someone do it; even if it takes two minutes out of your time. Most of all, please don’t forget our seniors, as the Baby Boomers come of age, we are going to see more aging American’s than ever before. Let’s look for moments when we can make things easier in some small way.

This story reminded me of the Seniors who have been so special in my life. My mom has just barely reached that age, but thankfully she is still able to do things for herself. She and her husband, Ed, recently invited his dear sister to live with them, she is 90. 

My mom and step-dad

My dad worked with seniors in nursing homes and assisted living facilities as an evangelist the whole time I was growing up. I learned the value of silvered hair at a very young age. I lived to far away to help him much as he aged, and went through his final journey, but I'm so thankful for those who were there for him. I was blessed to be able to be here for my mother-in-law in the final years of her life. I treasure the times I was able to learn from her, laugh with her and love her through her final journey.



My dad in WWII



      If you aren’t familiar with Parkinson’s Disease, go here - http://www.parkinson.org/

 

**NOTE: I don’t necessarily recommend going to a stranger’s home and unloading groceries. There are other ways to help…but, if the Holy Spirit leads you in that direction, the safest place to be is in the will of God.