Orland Evangelical Free Church | Just Like Children

Lou's clothes and bed sheets have to be changed in the morning and after every nap. He's forgotten how to tie his shoes, let alone how to cook. He's like a toddler.

I'd like to think it's that simple.

He hobbles to breakfast, tilting over his walker. His caregiver spreads jelly on his toast. "Hey Lou, how are you this morning?"

My toddler did not get married in 1938 at age 18 and go to war a year later. Nor did he lose his wife of 57 years to cancer, bury his parents, or outlive all but one of his children. Though his recollections and capabilities fade, likening him to a child is too simplistic.

 "Morning, darlin'. This old mess is just glad for one more day. Lord bless you for the jelly."

Sure, there are behavioral similarities. When things aren't going Lou's way, he lets me know it, almost in a whine. He gets demanding, especially about his food. Shouldn't he realize the world still doesn't revolve around him?

But what if I were legally blind, deaf in one ear, frail as a dry leaf, and not in control of anything, not even when or where I had a bowel movement. If I had power over nothing but the mushiness of my oatmeal, I'd be pushy about it.

Behavioral similarities are not enough. Children are helpless and demanding because they have nothing to lose, the elderly because life is all about not losing any more.

Relating to the elderly is about respecting what they've lost.

Our team of caregivers at WestHaven Assisted Living understands the importance of treating the elderly with dignity and respect, especially throughout the practicalities of everyday life.

WestHaven's mission is "to bring glory to God by providing meaningful participation in the ministry of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to elderly members of our community through the operation of senior residential facilities."

It is a rare faith that trusts Jesus to save a man who holds onto fifty years of bitterness like a warm blanket, or a woman who forgets what she just ate. But if anyone should have that faith, I should because I know their past.

Their minds are filled with questions about their history. If my heart breaks for the losses of their past, I've made a start. But to truly understand the elderly, I must understand their greatest fear-the future.