As I stood with a group of college age Christmas carolers in front of a nursing home, I burst into shoulder-wracking sobs.  Another student and I headed back to our dorm to heat hot chocolate while the rest went inside to sing to the residents.  My reaction appeared extreme, but the noscomephobia, or fear of nursing homes, resulted from events from my childhood.

When I was only eleven years old, my mother, sister and I fled domestic violence with one suitcase of belongings.  The State of Wisconsin settled us in a room with a dresser and two twin beds in the back of a nursing home.  My second semester of fifth grade was launched from that room.  We ate breakfast and supper with the residents, while my mother worked in housekeeping.

Although the nursing home experience proved quiet, albeit abnormal, it provided a semblance of safety before my placement into foster care. Psychologists researching post-traumatic stress have learned that trauma is not just an event that takes place sometime in the past and is forgotten.  There is an imprint left by that experience on mind, body and brain. My tearful adult reaction to nursing homes reflected the PTSD from childhood distress that had festered for years in serious need of healing.

Flash forward several decades.

After a church meeting, Carla Dusek, a retired gym teacher, approached me.  Her winning smile belied the request.  “Would you go with meet to visit Virginia? She bedridden at the facility down the street and a member of our church.  At 98, she could use some company.”

ANOTHER CHURCH MEMBER, BLANCA REPETTO, HAD ALREADY MADE THIS PLEA.

With sincere honesty, I explained.  “I’m not comfortable going to nursing homes.  I’ll scare Virginia with my crying.”   Even thinking about it made my heart beat rapidly, and short gasped caused deep breathing to get control of my emotions.

My mind and soul struggled.  Carla waited for a final answer. Eventually, the words of Joshua 1:9 rose to remembrance.  “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.  Do not be frightened and do not be dismayed; for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Even to a nursing home? My heart quivered at the leap of faith needed.

Carla signed me up to visit Virginia with her.  We arrived in the lobby of the residence.  Masked personnel greeted us. No chemical smells hung in the air.  The floors were clean. A plastered smile on my lips kept unbidden tears in check.  So far, so good.

Virginia proved to be a pleasant woman with cognitive skills, but immobile legs.  On of my strengths as a retired teacher includes greeting people and setting them at ease.  Soon, Virginia and I were chatting. Then I leaned in to hear her stories from the Great Depression. Carla and I combed her hair; put it in the bun she favored.  Fluffed pillows and pulled Virginia higher on the bed.  Before leaving, Virginia handed me a Bible.  As I read her favorite Psalms, she recited them.  Carla, Virginia and I prayed while holding hands.

It was clear that there would be more visits to the nursing home WITH CARLA AND BLANCA. In fact, the visits spanned  over three years of Thursday afternoons with Virginia.  She had good days, and challenging ones.  Carla and I potted flowers with her, sent Christmas, birthday and Valentine’s Day cards with a message from Virginia to family and friends.  BLANCA ORGANIZED a tea party with acquaintances.  My favorite activity centered on sharing inspirational and historical picture books with Virginia.  Stories from Christian magazines narrated with my most dramatic voice. I felt like a member of the family after reading letters from relatives to Virginia.

The change in my life is one that the Lord made in my heart. Seeing the residents in the halls, or in their beds, has enlarged my capacity for compassion. During this time, I finished the certification to become a chaplain with International Fellowship of Chaplains.  This training will equip me to minister in a nursing home where patients and their loved ones can find a shoulder to cry upon, or a listening ear attached to a heart of concern.

Life’s trials are not understood immediately. But God has a way of taking the thing we far the most and bring healing.  He healed my child’s traumatized mind in a way that His love now pours through.  Psalm 3418 promises, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”