Reaching holy ground …
Today I stumbled across a feed where a woman shared a beautifully tender moment she had with an elderly woman with dementia from her church. She took the time to have a conversation with this woman, and just listen.
It made me bawl, instantly. It captures why and how I’ve started to be more and more patient with my mommy, choosing softness instead of frustration. It’s not easy, and I mess up a lot, but I’m trying, and have come a long way since earlier this year.
I’m proud of myself. And I’m honored to be stepping onto even holier ground.
…
And in that moment, I slowed down. I leaned in. I let her wander through her sentences, stopping, starting, circling back. Bc when memory begins to fade, what people need most is patience. Space to stumble w/o shame, to be seen even when their mind feels unseen. …
Here’s what I found: when you slow down for the elderly—for the wandering, the forgetful, the ones the world brushes off as “too slow” or “too far gone”—you step onto holy ground. Bc if you really listen, you’ll discover treasures tucked inside their pauses. God Himself hides in the halting sentences, in the gaps their memory can’t fill.
What feels like weakness to the world is often where God whispers the loudest. And maybe, if you resist the urge to rush, if you choose patience, you’ll hear something far greater than their words …
