A friend and I visited the nursing home today. Every Tuesday she goes and plays piano for singalong. Today, she invited me.

I had forgotten how hard it was. Being in the nursing home setting brought back memories of my childhood. When my grandfather's alzheimer's grew to be too much for my grandmother, he went into a nursing home for vets. I have vivid memories visiting him, sitting at a table with him.... searching for some semblance of the man who had taken me out for doughnuts and was never without a chuckle for a little girl.

But I also recalled how he never forgot my name. No matter how bad he got, he never forgot my name.

This last summer, we did missions work at a nursing home several days before attending the steubenville conference. I was asked to go into the mental ward and help lead the singalong. Perhaps it was God nudging me toward there, asking me to remember why it was that I care so deeply for the elderly. These people were so joyful, so happy at just being able to participate in an activity with one another. Their look at having the undivided attention of several gentle youth is something I shall never forget.

Today, unsure of what to expect, I nervously entered the nursing home, flute on my shoulder, grinning outwardly; hiding an inner turmoil. Seeing person after person... my fears seemed about to be realized. I slipped into my "auto" mode, the mode where I place total control over to God, to not let my fears and reactions control my being. Slowly though, as the first chords sung out of the piano, as the first words of "Jesus Loves Me" tenuously began to become audible, I realized that these people were like children. God's children, who have more wisdom and experience then I can ever imagine. The words grew louder as the songs progressed. When we reached "Amazing Grace"... i did not think it was possible for them to sing any louder. I have that song memorized, so i spun around while playing, receiving many winks and grins for my troubles.

But seeing the other ones was hard, the ones that just kinda sit there. I was curious as to what they think about, and I really didn't like the conclusion that I came to, until I realized that there was the possibility that they were seeing God. I pray that God is slowly revealing Himself to them, that as their mind and faculties lose focus and ability, that they come to know how much He really loves them.

The greatest joy I had, was when one sassy elderly lady told me it would "cost" me to turn the page in her book. When I asked "how much" the cost was... well it had the entire room chuckling with the answer.

I know it was Devine inspiration that prompted my friend to invite me. I relearned something I had forgotten, something I dearly needed to remember. God does not choose our paths, we choose our paths to God. He knows what we were meant to do, He knows the only vocation that we will truly make us happy. But it is up to us to hear His hints, to follow His calling.