WE ARE NEVER...REALLY...ALONE.
It was the night before Christmas-- the year was1991-- and I was all- alone in Atlanta, Georgia. Two hours earlier, the florist had delivered a massive poinsettia plant dotted with more than twenty vibrant red blossoms. Lacking a signature, the card simply read “Have a Merry Christmas.” I stared at the magnificent gift and for a few minutes-- felt sorry for myself. I would be the only person on Christmas Day to enjoy the beautiful plant and------just before my sadness took root--- a voice inside said “pick up the telephone.”
I heard myself ask the operator about a nursing home I’d seen several blocks away but didn’t recall its name. The operator, kind and helpful, not only provided me with the name of the state-supported facility, but offered to connect my call. When the receptionist answered the phone at Sunset Assisted Living, I introduced myself and asked if any resident living there would be alone for Christmas. Almost immediately the receptionist answered with the name, “Miss Emma Stewart.”
I briefly described what I wanted to do for Christmas. The receptionist responded by telling me a little bit about Miss Emma. A former school teacher without family or relatives, Miss Emma had checked into Sunset eight years earlier when she could no longer climb the stairs in her home.
Miss Emma never had visitors. Proper, well-spoken, and always pleasant, Miss Emma was liked by everyone at the facility but nevertheless, on weekends, holidays, and special occasions, she was alone. Each year Miss Emma watched other residents display Christmas trees, enjoy visits from relatives and family members, and open Christmas presents.
I told the receptionist at Sunset Assisted Living to expect me the next day, Christmas Day, about ten o’clock in the morning. Before ending the call I said “Please don’t tell anyone; I want to surprise Miss Emma.” The next day, carefully packing the elegant—and slightly heavy--- Poinsettia in the back of my Jeep, I marveled at the plant’s beautiful blossoms and bright greenery. I felt excited--- like a child about to unwrap a great adventure.
The receptionist walked me down a long hallway crowded with empty wheelchairs, to a room marked 113. Stepping inside, I was surprised to see people crowded around two hospital beds on one side of the room, laughing, eating, opening presents, and enjoying a holiday celebration. On the opposite wall, in a single hospital bed sat Miss Emma, smiling sweetly, as she watched the activities across the room.
With help from the receptionist, I placed the Poinsettia on an empty table next to Miss Emma’s bed, pulled up a chair, and sat down. “Merry Christmas, Miss Emma! My name is Sally and I came to spend Christmas with you. God arranged for the two of us to be together today so we could celebrate his birthday.” After her initial surprise and a few tears, Miss Emma took my hand. She continued to hold my hand throughout the day as we talked, shared memories, and nibbled on the holiday cookies and candies I’d brought with me.
At some point in the day, visitors from the other side of the room wandered over, a few at a time, to admire the Poinsettia and make small talk. They seemed interested in learning about the relationship between Miss Emma and the stranger beside her. Like a rumor mill, word quickly spread among the facility’s other residents and staff members and they too came to visit Miss Emma. Everyone was curious about Miss Emma’s gorgeous Poinsettia and--- her visitor.
Evening came and it was time for me to leave room 113. Looking around, I was touched to see the large gathering of people sharing Christmas food and engaging Miss Emma in lively conversation. The look on Miss Emma’s face documented the happiness in her heart. I began saying my “goodbyes”--- when one of the gentlemen in the crowd suggested we join hands and honor the season with a Christmas Carol. Soon, everyone was singing, including Miss Emma. “Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant, o come ye, o come ye….” Joyful, I sang too.
For the first time in eight years the former school teacher--- without family or visitors---was the center of attention. The Poinsettia had successfully delivered its message…”Have a Merry Christmas”….to Miss Emma, to those at Sunset Assisted Living and, most especially, to me.
Acts 20:35 says “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Thank you, God, for speaking to my heart.