Just a little over three hours ago, I walked into the care center to work the graveyard shift, undifferent to any other late Saturday night. I was still reflecting upon the afternoon spent having a pair of TOMS painted by one of my favorite people. It was so good to see her. It's amazing how, regardless of circumstance, or happenstance, there exists an abiding sense of care for and connection with certain people. Miss Arteest, designer of my new TOMS, is one of those special individuals to me.
And so was [is] one of the residents at the care center where I work. For the purposes of this blog, she will be affectionately nicknamed "E.P."
From the very first day I began working at the care center in June, I bonded with E.P. I knew she was the reason for me to take the job (other than needing another source of income). And she warmed up to me right away. While reading her profile and paper work, there was a literally a "still, small voice" within that confirmed to me that she was [one of] the reasons I was now working at this particular house. We would go on many long walks together, where she would hold my hand tightly and sing heartfully and unabashedly - at the top of her lungs (in her slightly slurred speech) - ol' Gospel hymns such as Go Tell It On the Mountain, along with her favorite Elvis song - Love Me Tender.
[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]
The neighbors would return her loud out-of-tune yet joyus noise with quizzical and/or perturbed looks. E.P. was blissfully unaware, and continued signing. It would cause me to smile from ear-to-ear, and my heart to melt. "Atta girl, E.P. Atta girl! What a way to make a joyful noise onto the Lord," I'd say to her loud and proud. Her response: "Jesus lives up in the Heavens above the world, Dan-YELL (how she pronounced my name). Huh? Right, Dan-YELL. Yeah, He does." And she would repeat this until she was satisfied with how enthusiastic my "YES!" was, then match it with: "YES!" I would ask her, "E.P. Does Jesus love you?" And an enormous grin on her soft dark face, featuring a sea of missing teeth and sweetly in her Southern drawl: "Yeah, He does. Dan-YELL, Jesus loves all the children. Yeah, He does."
This scenario would play out anytime I walked, or sat outside with her to watch the clouds. And I never tired of it. No, rather, it warmed my heart and caused me to smile incessantly to the point my cheeks ached. Typically, I would redirect her repeated comments, as per her behavior plan. Yet, how could I deny a 50+ year-old woman, with a childlike heart, the opportunity to bear her testimony of the Savior? There was no squelching this "grown woman" (as she constantly referred to herself as).
Truthfully, it wasn't always easy, so to speak, with E.P. She would have frequent outbursts, and need considerable redirection to deter her from harmful behaviors, etc. She would obsess over certain things to the point of fanaticism, fixation, and even force her will (and self) on to others. She had serious uncontrolled "behaviors" as pertaining to her specific health conditions, etc. And, yes, could be a real challenge to "handle". She required a great deal of emotional, physical, and mental energy. Nevertheless, she was [is] dear to me. I just loved her to pieces. E.P. was one of my rays of sunshine in the soul.
When I tucked her in (upon her request) at night, I would whisper: "Who loves you?" Happily she'd say, in a "regular" voice: "Jesus and you, Dan-YELL." When I would go wake her up in the morning to get ready for the day, she would immediately open her eyes, and with a smile, say: "Good morning, Dan-YELL!" If she misbehaved, she would come to me, hug me tightly and say: "I'm sorry, Dan-YELL! I'll be a good girl for you, Dan-YELL! I love you, Dan-YELL!" "I know," I'd say softly back, "Thank you. I love you, too. You know how you can really show me how much you love me, E.P?" She would immediately respond, loudly: "WHAT?" then a millisecond later say: "BE GOOD! I'll be a good girl for you, okay, Dan-Yell? okay? Okay. I'll be good. Jesus sees everything and loves all the little children of the world."
Yeah, He does, E.P. Yeah, He does.
There are many poignant reminders and insights gained from working with E.P. And, therefore, it seems so wrong to walk in to find her gone. [But, wait! I wasn't ready!] I wonder if tomorrow I'll find that it was all some belated April Fool's joke; a Halloween hoax. Have I been asleep for a few days, only to wake up and discover the wrong ending in the adventure book? [But, wait! I didn't get to say "good-bye"]. Certainly if this really was a choose-your-own-adventure book, I would have chosen the one set to the harmonious out-of-tune sounds of Gospel hymns and Elvis Presley songs.
[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]
I suppose it's silly to become "attached" to a resident, but who denies a blessing from the Lord? Not I, said the fly. And so my tears could not wait, because I didn't get to say "good-bye".
(I'll sing tomorrow.
And I'll dance on Monday.
But, for now, it'll have to wait.)
file:///C:/Users/Public/Desktop/iTunes.lnk
And so was [is] one of the residents at the care center where I work. For the purposes of this blog, she will be affectionately nicknamed "E.P."
From the very first day I began working at the care center in June, I bonded with E.P. I knew she was the reason for me to take the job (other than needing another source of income). And she warmed up to me right away. While reading her profile and paper work, there was a literally a "still, small voice" within that confirmed to me that she was [one of] the reasons I was now working at this particular house. We would go on many long walks together, where she would hold my hand tightly and sing heartfully and unabashedly - at the top of her lungs (in her slightly slurred speech) - ol' Gospel hymns such as Go Tell It On the Mountain, along with her favorite Elvis song - Love Me Tender.
[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]
The neighbors would return her loud out-of-tune yet joyus noise with quizzical and/or perturbed looks. E.P. was blissfully unaware, and continued signing. It would cause me to smile from ear-to-ear, and my heart to melt. "Atta girl, E.P. Atta girl! What a way to make a joyful noise onto the Lord," I'd say to her loud and proud. Her response: "Jesus lives up in the Heavens above the world, Dan-YELL (how she pronounced my name). Huh? Right, Dan-YELL. Yeah, He does." And she would repeat this until she was satisfied with how enthusiastic my "YES!" was, then match it with: "YES!" I would ask her, "E.P. Does Jesus love you?" And an enormous grin on her soft dark face, featuring a sea of missing teeth and sweetly in her Southern drawl: "Yeah, He does. Dan-YELL, Jesus loves all the children. Yeah, He does."
This scenario would play out anytime I walked, or sat outside with her to watch the clouds. And I never tired of it. No, rather, it warmed my heart and caused me to smile incessantly to the point my cheeks ached. Typically, I would redirect her repeated comments, as per her behavior plan. Yet, how could I deny a 50+ year-old woman, with a childlike heart, the opportunity to bear her testimony of the Savior? There was no squelching this "grown woman" (as she constantly referred to herself as).
Truthfully, it wasn't always easy, so to speak, with E.P. She would have frequent outbursts, and need considerable redirection to deter her from harmful behaviors, etc. She would obsess over certain things to the point of fanaticism, fixation, and even force her will (and self) on to others. She had serious uncontrolled "behaviors" as pertaining to her specific health conditions, etc. And, yes, could be a real challenge to "handle". She required a great deal of emotional, physical, and mental energy. Nevertheless, she was [is] dear to me. I just loved her to pieces. E.P. was one of my rays of sunshine in the soul.
When I tucked her in (upon her request) at night, I would whisper: "Who loves you?" Happily she'd say, in a "regular" voice: "Jesus and you, Dan-YELL." When I would go wake her up in the morning to get ready for the day, she would immediately open her eyes, and with a smile, say: "Good morning, Dan-YELL!" If she misbehaved, she would come to me, hug me tightly and say: "I'm sorry, Dan-YELL! I'll be a good girl for you, Dan-YELL! I love you, Dan-YELL!" "I know," I'd say softly back, "Thank you. I love you, too. You know how you can really show me how much you love me, E.P?" She would immediately respond, loudly: "WHAT?" then a millisecond later say: "BE GOOD! I'll be a good girl for you, okay, Dan-Yell? okay? Okay. I'll be good. Jesus sees everything and loves all the little children of the world."
Yeah, He does, E.P. Yeah, He does.
There are many poignant reminders and insights gained from working with E.P. And, therefore, it seems so wrong to walk in to find her gone. [But, wait! I wasn't ready!] I wonder if tomorrow I'll find that it was all some belated April Fool's joke; a Halloween hoax. Have I been asleep for a few days, only to wake up and discover the wrong ending in the adventure book? [But, wait! I didn't get to say "good-bye"]. Certainly if this really was a choose-your-own-adventure book, I would have chosen the one set to the harmonious out-of-tune sounds of Gospel hymns and Elvis Presley songs.
[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]
I suppose it's silly to become "attached" to a resident, but who denies a blessing from the Lord? Not I, said the fly. And so my tears could not wait, because I didn't get to say "good-bye".
(I'll sing tomorrow.
And I'll dance on Monday.
But, for now, it'll have to wait.)
file:///C:/Users/Public/Desktop/iTunes.lnk
What a sweet tribute to your sweet friend! It's obvious that you meant a lot to her. you are an excellent writer, I felt like you described her so well that I teared up when I read the ending. I'm really sorry you didn't get to say goodbye.
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