Christmas Caroling at a Nursing Home
Christmas Caroling at a Nursing Home
by Angie Bymaster
The 2nd-5th grade Kids’ Community has been exploring Social Justice themes once a month. Last Sunday, they took the lesson on the road. Eleven of The River's kids went to Homewood nursing home to sing to residents. Now, if it's been a while since you've been to a nursing home, let me set the stage for you. The first thing to greet you when you open the door is a powerful gust of hot urine- and antiseptic-scented air. Then you see boxes of gloves and gowns and masks everywhere, pale people in wheelchairs, some with things coming out of their mouths, some stooped over in unnatural positions, some with tubes in their noses, some awake and alert staring eagerly back at you. There are a few nurses going in and out of rooms; in some rooms they gown up like HAZMAT employees about to clean up some toxic waste before they enter.
We were expected. A friendly employee guided us to the activity room where a group of relatively healthy appearing residents were gathered around a table. We sidled up along one side and sang a bunch of Christmas songs. The crowd grew with each song and we even had people in the hallway listening. They were a wonderful audience and clapped loudly and thanked us profusely. We then ventured out to the hallways for a little more caroling on the way out.
Sometimes we went into rooms to sing. We discovered a 100-year-old lady who was bedbound (she had a picture on the wall with a birthday cake saying "Happy 100th Birthday!"). Honestly, she looked pretty much dead when she was sleeping - with hollowed cheeks and mouth open with the "O" sign (this is an unofficial medical term). But we woke her up and sang "Angels We Have Heard on High," and she brightened up so much. Her eyes twinkled and she moved her mouth like she was singing with us. We then found another lady sleeping scrunched over in her wheelchair. She awoke and unfurled very slowly, but when she saw us she stared with intensity at the children. She appeared to be mute, but it was clear from the way she stared that she was desperate to interact with the children. I asked them in the hallway if anyone would be brave enough to go and touch her; at first, it looked like it was not going to be her lucky day. But then, Mei Mei took a deep breath and walked into her room and grasped her hand. The woman looked at her with such warmth and kissed her hand. All of the kids in the hallway immediately started talking about this experience. "That lady just put Mei-Mei's hand by her mouth!" "Did you see that?" "Did she kiss her?" "Can I wash my hands?"
It was a beautiful experience for most, I think. Certainly the residents were very grateful. One lady told us that no one in her family had called or visited her for Christmas and she was so glad to have the children come by her room. For the children, it was stretching. A few of them, like Mei-Mei, were able to push through the naturally frightening aspects of disease and ugliness and un-cleanness to touch people. Some peeked in rooms and pointed out people they thought we should sing to. And I think - I hope - all of the children were able to see how much joy they brought to some very precious people.