Through Elderly Eyes

While the young will go down in history known as the "COVID-19 generation," the elderly will go down as the most vulnerable affected by the pandemic. Why? Because it's been, by far, the toughest, deadliest on them.

How would you see the world around you if you were to look through the eyes of an elderly person? 

Behind the face of an elderly is a life well-lived, a life that has contributed much to society, a life that deserves love and affection and respect, a life that has — in many cases — survived the devastation of war as well as the Great Depression, and, unfortunately for some, a life that's known the heartache of having to outlive their child/children. 

Ingrained in parts of society, whether intentionally or unintentionally, is the notion that elderly people are "has-beens." And because of "old age," this shadow of disdain sends out the message that they aren't valued like they should be. Sadly, the situation has gotten much worse throughout COVID. 

"It's an old person's disease." 

"That person was old; they were going to die soon anyway." 

I've heard/read statements like these many times since the onset of the pandemic.  

None of us know what the future holds. To be elderly isn't a death sentence. Meaningful relationships don't diminish with age. On the contrary, in my twenty-five-year career working with the elderly (as they shared stories of days gone by), I'd often seen a sparkle in their eye that implied a past life of freedom and agility.

 

This time of year draws me back to the Sears Christmas Annual Seniors Event, which I was blessed to participate in for many years. It was a heart-warming experience that brought many family and friends together before the holiday rush, an entertaining night out in the lives of the elderly, who might have otherwise felt forgotten if it wasn't made possible by the many dedicated volunteers. 

As busloads were brought in from nursing homes in the surrounding areas, the event would kick off with a bit of shopping for loved ones, stopping along the way to enjoy some yummy holiday treats and a chit-chat, followed by the enjoyment of a local band's rendition of some well-known Christmas carols. 

I'll never forget the magic at the singalongs: From the clapping of hands to the stomping of feet to the footloose and fancy-free dancing, I watched in awe as the elderly stole the show. Perhaps, for some, it was a flashback to their youth, and for others, perhaps it was a time away from their loneliness. Whatever the case might have been, they were living in the moment. Right there in the Sears department store! And it was breathtaking to watch. 

I can't help but wonder now, with Christmas fast approaching and the new Omicron variant on the rise, if the elderly are grappling with how the holidays will look for them, leaving them even more susceptible to the "holiday blues?" 

Thankfully, the benefits of technology such as Facetime and Skype give some ( like my in-laws) a sense of connection with loved ones. 

But the significant impact on their overall mental health caused by the pandemic can't be replaced with Facetime and Skype. Likewise, the day-to-day recreational activities enjoyed with friends can't be replaced with Facetime and Skype. Nor can the face-to-face interactions with friends dropping by to reassure them that they aren't alone in these trying times. No. Instead, the lack of touch and interaction with family and friends (especially family) has left them feeling disengaged and cut off from the world they'd once known. 

 I know we are living in challenging times, but if possible, let's find ways to enrich an elderly person's life by giving them the gift of time amid all the hustle and bustle this year. It costs nothing. It asks for nothing in return. Only that we show up and be present with our presence — in whatever medium available. 

                                             Merry Christmas. Stay Safe.

The Panoramic View of the Human Forest

I've been guilty (and still am at times) of getting caught up in capturing a quick photographic moment rather than looking at the bigger picture in the album of life. Quieting my mind and contemplating the more panoramic view isn't always easy, and I know I'm not alone here. 

 

It's been our second fall season living on the East Coast. Nothing has been more breathtaking or awakened my soul like the scenic view of leaves changing colors. There were many days when nature beckoned me to come outside, to capture the beauty of God's creation — something I'd taken for granted for much of my adult life. 

Fall has become bittersweet for me in the last few years, though. As the transformation of colors gives way to, what can be, the dreariness of winter, the withered leaves falling to the ground bring with it an emptiness that triggers my seasonal depression. While life may appear perfect on the outside, there are days when the internal battle paints a much different picture. 

 I know my situation is far from rare. And I know every situation is unique. But since moving to NB, being out in nature has been one of the best coping mechanisms. Not only that. Being out in nature has helped dampen the pandemic's effects on my overall well-being. It's why I wholeheartedly believe that discovering coping mechanisms is crucial in helping us span the gap to a brighter, more panoramic picture moving forward. 

 A few weeks ago, on a rainy, windy, dreary Sunday afternoon, I was lounging in my living room sipping coffee, transfixed on the densely wooded area in our backyard, amazed at how the natural world interacts. 

Observing the insistent blustery winds sway the different types of trees back and forth, I pulled my warm, cozy blanket up to my chin, closed my eyes, and listened to the hypnotic sound of the rain and wind as my mind drifted back to what our lives were like pre-pandemic. 

The trees are hugging one another tightly out there, without the barrier of social distancing, I thought. Before we were forced into lockdowns, before we were forced to social distance, we were part of the human forest. We were but another tree blowing in the wind, unmasked and unafraid to interact, for the most part, anyway. 

I don't know about you, but I long to be a part of the human forest again. Even though I'm an introvert by nature, I miss the freedom of human connections. 

Unfortunately, the pandemic has proven to span a few too many seasons for most of us, taking its toll on our positivity and patience. Truth be known. We all want our social lives back. Because to be together is inherently human, and besides, feeling less alone is always good for the soul.

I mean, even the biblical writer John preferred to meet face-to-face, without barriers or social distancing. "I have much to write to you, but I do not want to use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete." ( 2 John 1:12). 

I can imagine the face-to-face interactions John spoke of lifted the spirits of all who gathered.

And we, too, as believers, can take solace. Because whether we are shedding leaves of human struggles or embracing life's beauty, Christ, The Tree of Life, observes the more panoramic view. He observes our every tear and joyous moment; he molds us through all life seasons and assures us that the leaves of joy will return. 

My prayer is that the pandemic will soon become a distant picture in the album of life, replaced by lessons learned, creating a more panoramic view of the human forest, where we are unmasked and unafraid to interact — with both stranger and friend alike — lifting one another as God intended, so that our joy may be complete in Him.