service – Notes from My Heartsong

Someone asked me a question a few days ago that’s still circling in my mind.

Sharing a traditional American Thanksgiving meal, the table conversation drifted to the mission program I recently joined.

“So – why this mission? Why did you leave everything and move here to this specific mission?”

I honestly didn’t have an answer on the tip of my tongue. Nothing concise and intelligent sounding, anyway.

Why did I come, anyway?

Why, when it tore my heart to pieces to leave my little nephews and nieces behind?

Why, when going to church every Sunday morning reminded me for weeks that my home congregation is far away?

Why, when I had so many close friends around me, did I move here where I have to build new relationships?

I didn’t say any of that, I simply told the story of how God aligned people and events to guide my steps here.

The shortest answer to the question really is, “God clearly called me here. I knew its where I’m meant to be for this season of life.”

But it’s so much more.

Maybe it’s because a resident prayed every day for over a year that I would get my visa approval, so that I could volunteer here.

Maybe it’s because of a young lady who just moved in and needs someone to teach her how to pray. She wants to tell Jesus her thoughts but isn’t sure how. Maybe it’s the joy of demonstrating to her that she can talk to Him like a friend in the room – and seeing her eyes light up as she discovers a new way to communicate with God.

It might be because of the opportunity to walk with someone to their table in the dining room, so that they don’t have to go alone.

Or the laughter around the piano when Christmas carols go waaaay off key – but no one judges anyone for that, because every voice in our choir is making a joyful noise to the Lord.

Maybe I came here to listen to hearts who are missing parents who have passed away. I know my heart is full with emotion when I hear, “Thanks for taking time to talk today, Jackie. It made me feel better.”

I know I came here for the bedtime prayers. To see tears of happiness on weathered cheeks when they hear me thanking God for creating them to be who they are.

I came here to say I love you. To say it often, because they don’t hear it enough. Sometimes I hear a soft whisper, “I love you, too.”

Other times I learn new things about myself. For example, I am useless, fat, stupid – and a chatterbox. I don’t mind. I rather enjoy seeing what they’ll come up with to call me next 😉 and, we all need to vent somewhere. I’m one of the only faces some of these people see in a day – of course they’ll vent the frustrations of life on me. Maybe I came here to be their listening ear, too.

When I think about why I came here, and all the things that fill my heart to overflowing every day, I know why I’m here.

I came because of love.

Because Jesus loves me.

Because I love Him.

And His love is the kind that fills a heart until it overflows.

If we love Him, we will love others – wherever He calls us to love, we will go.

And that’s why I’m here.

That’s why I could leave my family, my church, my friends, my home.

That’s why my heart could hurt, without breaking.

Because it wasn’t rooted in any of the things I left. It’s rooted only in love – in Jesus – and so it can survive any transplanting.

I can go where He leads.

I can be stretched painfully through a transition season and still be filled with His love.

Why did I choose this particular mission?

Because these precious people – these lonely, forgotten souls – are so thirsty for love.

It’s the best place to pour my overflowing heart.

My people are all sleeping.

Blankets were tucked around wrinkly chins, gray hair was brushed into ponytails for the night, and shaky arms reached up to hug me before I turned out the light.

I held hands larger than my own and prayed bedtime prayers for a good night of pain free, restful sleep.

They’re not my children.

Most of them are old enough to be my grandparents, or at least my parents.

But they call me, “Mom.”

Sometimes they say it teasingly, but there’s an underlying note of seriousness. And other times, depending what they’ve just asked me to do for them, there’s a depth of emotion in their voice when they say, “thank you – Mom.”

A lot of the residents in the care home where I volunteer are children at heart.

They remained dependent on their parents into adulthood, and still need to be mothered. But their moms have either passed away, or are too elderly to care for them anymore, and so they are here to receive the care they need.

I wish I could have met the moms represented by the people I serve.

These women who must have been wonderfully dedicated mothers, for how affectionately they’re spoken of by their now-elderly children.

These women who knew just how to tuck the sheets, and which kind of bedtime snack, and how to soothe a hurting heart.

I’m trying to learn these things about each resident, because they deserve to feel at home. I come here to work; they live here. This is home to them, and we need to provide care with all the homey touches their moms had.

It’s daunting.

But I love them. And even though it’s challenging, and not always easy, I’m determined to love them well.

Whenever I’m faced with a task that’s not so appealing, I remind myself that this person was created by Jesus. I visualize Him kneeling beside this bed, or pushing this wheelchair, or cleaning up this floor.

And I ask, “How would Jesus love this person?”

I can never replace their mothers that they still miss so much.

I certainly can’t know and meet their needs in perfection like Jesus would.

But maybe, with the daily challenge to do each act of service the way Jesus would, I can provide care that lets them know without a doubt: they are precious, and they are loved.

I know one thing for sure: they fill my heart.

And, out of all the names I get called in a day (trust me, there’s a wide variety) I always smile when they call me “Mom.”

Tag: service

Because of Love

They Call Me Mom