Continued from Alienated Parts: Three caregivers, made a special trip to her room to say, “You are the hands and feet of Jesus.” Two weeks later there was no room in the inn. In the Jesus story, she had gone from ministering to others, back to being dependent on someone making room for her.
The sequence is recognizable to many. My mother went from assisted living to the hospital. Next, we had to find a place that specialized in skilled nursing.
The familiar facility had reached its maximum patient load. As a child, my mother replied, “yes”, to the Spirit of Jewish Jesus. Now, many years later, she responded affirmatively again, this time to the Jewish Home and Rehab that welcomed her to come and regain her strength. Relief from being stuck often means opening to something different or, at least, looking through a different lens.
Friends, wise ones and those who faithfully tend their flocks, came bearing the gift of presence. Care providers asked me questions about who she was; they seemed to intuit that though they had much to do for my mother, they also had something to glean from her life.
Mother said to me, “As long as I am here, I want to bring light to those around me.” Her name actually means light. Still, at ninety-five and with more challenges, she is thinking of how she can bring joy to the lives of others.
Long ago, people pined for a Messiah who would make all things right. Instead, they got a baby, in a manger, who would meet them in their own hearts. A different place invited us. Healing often comes with an invitation to humility, asking us to trust beyond our preconceived ideas.
No room in the inn; the words echoed throughout my body. We were in the middle of the Christ story. Would we allow our need for a particular progression to become an obsession, an idol, or humble ourselves, by trusting in the unfolding?