As I've been in planning for Vital Signs Ministries' newest outreach -- a weekly Bible study/church service at a senior living facility, a service which will be recorded for use with other senior centers -- I remembered this Book Den post from more than two years ago. Check it out...
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Thinking over the many conversations we have with residents of senior care facilities who attend our “When Swing Was King” shows, I recently recalled a passage from Booth Tarkington’s The Magnificent Ambersons. This penetrating and prescient novel, published in 1918, is both fine literature and history, telling as it does the story of the rise and fall of an aristocratic American family at the turn of the century. However, probably because of our ongoing “When Swing Was King” ministry in senior care facilities (and because the evidence of aging has come close to home with friends, family, and ourselves in recent weeks) my recent thoughts about the novel have centered on one particular passage.
Let me set the stage. The elderly Major Amberson is suffering from grief and loneliness as well as from the inevitable ravages of old age. He sits for hours staring at the fire -- awake and yet generally disconnected from anything that’s happening around him. The other family members assume that he is in some kind of mental limbo. If any cognizant thoughts do slip through, the family believes they are the Major's memories of his military service, the building of his business, or perhaps sweet dreams of his wife who died long ago. But Tarkington writes,
They were mistaken. The Major was engaged in the profoundest thinking of his life. No business plans which had ever absorbed him could compare in momentousness with the plans that absorbed him now, for he had to plan on how to enter the unknown country where he was not even sure of being recognized as an Amberson...
His absorption produced the outward effect of reverie, but of course it was not. The Major was occupied with the first really important matter that had taken his attention since he came home invalided after the Gettysburg campaign, and went into business; and he realized that everything which had worried him or delighted him during this lifetime between then and to-day – all his buying and building and trading and banking – that it all was trifling and waste beside what concerned him now.
A few pages later this scene (and Major Amberson's life) reaches its climax.
He moved his hand uncertainly as if reaching for something, and George jumped up, “Did you want anything, grandfather?”
“What?”
“Would you like a glass of water?”
“No – no. No; I don’t want anything.” The reaching hand dropped back upon the arm of the chair, and he relapsed into silence; but a few minutes later he finished the sentence he had begun:
“I wish – somebody could tell me!”
The next day he had a slight cold, but he seemed annoyed when his son suggested calling the doctor, and Amberson let him have his own way so far, in fact, that after he had got up and dressed, the following morning, he was all alone when he went away to find out what he hadn’t been able to think out – all those things he had wished “somebody” would tell him.
Old Sam, shuffling in with the breakfast tray, found the Major in his accustomed easy-chair by the fireplace – and yet even the old servant could see instantly that the Major was not there.
I think you can see why I find that particular scene of The Magnificent Ambersons so compelling, evoking as it does so many connections to my own loved ones and the many elderly friends we’ve made through “When Swing Was King.”
Of course, the applications of this scene in the novel message are limited. For instance, not every nursing home resident is involved in the same intense search for life’s meaning as was Major Amberson. And though some of those who are seemingly “locked inside” frail bodies and minds are genuinely out of our reach, not all of them are. That’s extremely important to remember and appreciate. So too is the fact that we are usually unable to determine exactly what’s going on inside a person's mind. Mercy therefore directs us to give such souls the benefit of the doubt, moving us to speak, touch, and pray for the person until the very end.
Another important point is that serving as the “somebody” who can explain spiritual questions to seekers like Major Amberson requires sincerity, patience, prayer, and the willingness to win the right to be heard. This is true of all evangelism and discipleship. In regards to hospital or nursing home visitation, the ministering Christian must be willing to be a genuine friend, to take the time necessary to shine forth the fruits of the Holy Spirit, and to demonstrate appropriate sensitivity to others involved, including family members and facility staff.
But with these practical issues accepted, the yearning for spiritual truth exhibited by Major Amberson should move all Christians to remember the important mission field that our senior citizens represent. Neither should we overlook those younger citizens who are forced by disease or accident to also require the ongoing care provided by a nursing home. These places are all around us and every one of them is filled with people who need our attention, our love in action, and yes, our answers to their questions about “that unknown country” that lies behind death.
Postscript: Vital Signs Ministries would love to help you develop your service to seniors -- both to those who yet live on their own and those whose care now requires assisted living or nursing homes. Whether it involves becoming a part of our delightful “When Swing Was King” program, finding out about other types of visitation or service programs, or perhaps joining in a concerted ministry with others from your church, please contact us sometime soon.
