Life has a funny way of handing out reality checks when you least expect it. Yesterday afternoon I went on a potential client interview with my Habitat for Humanity buddy, Chris to assess the need for a handicap ramp. It was my third interview of this kind, so I was feeling more relaxed about going to a stranger’s home and obtaining the kind of personal information required to get the application process started.
It was another snowy day here in Central Virginia. In fact, we’ve had so many “snow days” this year that instead of just clearing my calendar and nesting for the day, my response was a callous “screw it” and I merely bundled up and went on with my business. After meeting Chris for lunch to discuss an upcoming meeting, we headed off for our home visit. For the most part the roads were clear but the further we drove off the main roads, the more I could hear and feel the wet snow packing under my tires. Our client’s drive was long and covered with about five inches of snow. Putting my faith in my CRV’s four-wheel-drive, I headed in and parked.
We were greeted at the door by an older gentleman with a big smile revealing many lost teeth and a black pit bull. His eyes were icy blue and I thought maybe he’d been drinking but didn’t want to be quick to judge. After all, his tooth loss could account for his slurred speech. The dog was very friendly to me when I put out my hand to her, but took exception to Chris and gave him a snarl. The man quickly corrected the dog and led us to a back bedroom where his wife was sitting up in a hospital bed. She smiled a toothless smile as we entered.
The room was chock full of stuff. Close by the bed sat a commode chair and a mini fridge topped by a microwave and coffee maker; all the creature comforts were close by allowing her a modicum of self-sufficiency. There was also lots of medical supplies, a CPAP, oxygen tanks, a walker and wheelchair as well as another small bed where her husband slept by her side at night. Despite her many physical ailments, partial blindness, COPD, a broken foot, diabetes, and neuropathy, she was cheerful.
Since her eyesight was bad, Chris and I assisted her with the application. She explained that her family had fallen on hard times. Her medical bills were mounting and her son was recently laid off from his job while the other one was in jail. The only income the family received was Social Security Disability.
To some this may be surprising, but this woman’s story was similar to those we’ve heard before as we meet with clients. We are constantly reminded that not everyone lives the way we do; in good health, in homes in good repair and with resources to lean on in times of trouble. What I wasn’t prepared for was the answer she gave to one of the first questions we asked, “what is your age?” She replied, “55”.
Even though I entered the number on the form with no visible reaction, I was shaken by the fact that this poor woman, with her multitude of physical and family issues was three years younger than me. How could this be?
I know I have great difficulty in embracing the fact that I am indeed getting older. Not only is my birthday in the last century, it is pretty close to the middle of the last century. Seeing this woman was more than a gentle reminder than no matter how well I take care of myself, no matter what face cream or toothpaste I use, I am indeed moving much further from the beginning and much closer to the end of my life. It really is time to take stock and finally figure out what I’m going to do with myself.
To put even more emphasis on this point, this morning as I walked out to my car to leave for the gym, again triumphant that I wasn’t going to let the snow stop me, I again stepped onto the patch of ice where the downspout hits the driveway and was again dropped to the ground. I’m beginning to feel a bit like St. Paul. I just need to listen a bit more closely to learn just what God is trying to tell me.
Any ideas?