Reflections on Maundy Thursday

After a day at work, I returned home to the assisted living facility where I share a room with my husband and two poodles feeling a bit guilty.  You see, I had been caught between the guilt of missing a Maundy Thursday service at one of our congregations and the guilt of not spending time with my ailing husband.  I had finally landed on spending the evening at home with him, but was still feeling a bit guilty… what kind of way was this to remember the last supper?

But Maundy Thursday managed to find me, even buried as I was in assisted living.  You see, after supper, I agreed to help a friend here that is stricken with Parkinson’s.  Her family had suffered the death of two people yesterday and she needed help to write the sympathy cards, so I offered to be  her scribe.  She and I sat at a table in the TV room with another lady. Soon, another resident , “E,” entered the room wearing her nightgown, quite agitated and afraid (this woman has dementia of some sort, and is often treated harshly by some residents because of her neediness).  The ladies at my table encouraged E to join us, so with great difficulty, she sat at the table.  Soon my husband, “W” (also with dementia) came in and was confused and wanting to talk.  He wound up at the table as well.  The conversation evolved into a profound but almost comical round of card-writing dictation, interspersed with frightened questions and words of comfort/advice.   I realized that we were “washing one another’s feet,” disabled, uncertain and confused as we all were.

Even though I wasn’t at church, I knew Jesus was smiling.