Fran's Silent Night

by Kay Heitsch

I will never hear "Silent Night" and not think of Fran*. No matter where Fran was, you could hear her humming the first two bars of "Silent Night." This constant humming of only the first two bars of this beautiful melody could be annoying. Knowing that Fran had Alzheimer's helped me forgive her repetitive humming.

I remember Fran when she first lived in the "Memory Care" unit. She was a tall, nice-looking woman. Like most residents, Fran often walked, humming "Silent Night." Fran had quite an eye for any man who came into the unit. I would always tease her and tell her to let me know if any "good-looking" guys came in.

Fran and I developed a special friendship. You never know how long the progression of this disease will take. For Fran, it seemed like she went downhill very quickly. It wasn't long before she stopped talking and only hummed the first two bars of "Silent Night."

It wasn't long before she was unable to walk. She went from a regular wheelchair to a wheelchair that would recline, as she was unable to sit up anymore. My heart would break to see her lounging in the chair, staring up at the ceiling but still humming the two bars of "Silent Night."

Whenever I walked by her, I would stop and give her a little kiss on her forehead. I would also give her hand a slight squeeze. There would never be any response.

About a week before Christmas, I walked over to Fran as she was reclining in the wheelchair. As usual, I kissed her on the forehead and took her hand. She turned her head, looked me in the eyes, and said, "I love you. And I like you too." I was stunned! Fran hadn't spoken in months. Tears filled my eyes as I told Fran I loved and liked her. The following day, Fran passed on.

I stopped by the funeral home for Fran's calling hours. Christmas was only a few days away. As I walked in, I noticed her family had a small Christmas tree sitting on a table. A note asked each person to decorate the tree with some tinsel they had in a box sitting on the table. The family said Christmas had been Fran's favorite holiday, and she always had a tree with tinsel on it.

I could not attend Fran's funeral, but her family shared with me that the carol "Silent Night" would be playing as people passed by her casket to pay their last respects. I know Fran would have been pleased, and I'm sure she was humming along in Heaven.

*Name has been changed.

Christmas Prayer

by Kay Heitsch

As we slowly drove down the street on that cold December evening, we spotted the porch light. "This must be the house." I told our "Positive Teens In Action" group.

We pulled up in front of an older home with the porch light glowing. We gathered up our songbooks, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door. We heard a faint voice from inside say, “Come on in. The door is open." We opened the door.

There, in a rocking chair, sat an elderly woman with a big smile on her face. "I've been expecting you," she said weakly. Ruth was one of our Meals On Wheels stops I had arranged, along with the usual church members who enjoyed carolers.

We handed Ruth the basket of goodies the teens had assembled earlier that evening. Then I asked Ruth what carols she would like to hear. Ruth's face was beaming as she joined in, singing each song.

As we hugged Ruth good-bye, she said to me with tears glistening in her eyes, “The day you called, I was still in bed. I had just finished praying. I asked God if it would be possible to have some Christmas Carolers come to my home and sing this year. Thank you for being the answer to my Christmas prayer."

Wow, what an incredible experience to have the opportunity to be the answer to someone's Christmas prayer.

Bible Text: When you pray, go to your room, close the door, and pray to your unseen Father. And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you. Matthew 6:6

Make Good Memories

By Kay Heitsch

My husband, Bill's Grandma, Z., was in a nursing home when we moved back to Michigan. Grandma had been unable to walk for quite some time; now, her eyesight was almost gone.

Over the years, Grandma Z. and I exchanged many cards and letters. I knew how she enjoyed staying in touch with people.

Since I'd returned to Michigan, Grandma Z. thought I should be her "personal secretary." Trying to jog her memory, I said, "I guess you've forgotten how bad my handwriting is." Grandma Z. acted like she didn't hear me.

Grandma would have me write letters in the cards she would send. She would dictate; then, I would do my best to write down what she said. Grandma would always have me read what I had written back to her. Grandma had no problem hearing them because she always told me, "That is not exactly how I said that!" I would then rewrite whatever I wrote in her exact words.

Since I had some extra time before Christmas, I asked Grandma if she would like to send Christmas cards. Grandma readily agreed. I rounded up several different kinds of cards. I knew she had friends and family who all had other interests. I would take each card and describe the front of the card in detail, and then I would read the verse inside. After thinking it over, Grandma would tell me who she thought would like each card.

After a while, I looked up, and I noticed that we had several nursing home residents standing in the doorway. As I read each card, I started to see the look on their faces and Grandma Z's face, too. Each one had a faint smile and a faraway look as they saw the scenes in their mind's eyes.

When I went over to do the Christmas cards, I thought I would be doing Grandma Z. a favor, but it turned out that she did me a big favor. I'll always cherish this precious memory of bringing Christmas joy and pleasant memories to Grandma and her fellow residents.

Thanks to Grandma Z., I made a "good memory" to pass on to you.