The Waiting Manger

Christmas decorating is on full-tilt at The Home.  Trees and lights, snowmen and Santas, garland and tinsel, wreaths and holly.  And then there is the Nativity scene, without the Baby Jesus; the empty manger is waiting for Christmas eve.  It made me wonder – how many residents will wait for visitors this Christmas; visitors who do not come?  I don’t see Mom every day, and she is often watching for me.  I can only imagine her angst at Christmas, if no one came.

Sometimes, a different visitor can make a big difference.  Before one of the visiting baby rabbits ended up on Mom’s lap, I could tell by her flushed cheeks, hurried speech and tremulous voice that she was anxious.  Staff told me that she had been exit-seeking; wanting to go home.  They did not say: “You are home, so calm down!”  Instead, they took her for a walk, and she met the wee bunny. 

“Is it for sale?  Can we buy him and take him home?”  The negative response disappointed Mom, but she was so much calmer, and ended up helping with the decorating.  By helping, I mean she spent most of the afternoon with a ‘Country Santa.’  She was, after all, fixing his clothing.  Anxiety was gone and going home was forgotten.  She was not pleased when the decoration was placed amidst the Christmas décor.  “I thought I might keep him.”

So there I was, caught in that place of sorrow over her anxiety and her obsession, for hours, on one decoration.  Then it dawned on me that, for Mom, the Country Santa was a present, and she was in the present, in the moment, and that is what mattered.  I remembered the waiting manger.  2,000 years ago, The Promised Visitor had come; the one for whom the whole world had been waiting- Immanuel- God with us.  I remembered that Mom is not defined by dementia; she is defined by God as “the apple of my eye” (Zechariah 2:8).  I remembered that Jesus still waits for people to come to Him, by faith.  Yes, come to the lowly manger in a stable all forlorn and meet the King of Kings.  He is waiting for you.

I walked away rejoicing, and yet saddened by the thought that while a furry friend was a helpful visitor for Mom, and the long-awaited Messiah had visited us here on earth, there may be residents who might have someone else’s pet as their only Christmas visitor.  I would encourage you, friends- be a visitor; be a volunteer and bring your pets.  Don’t keep someone waiting.