My darling mother, Mary Alice Crider, died one year ago on October 21, 2012, after spending the last 5 years of her life in James L. West Alzheimer Center where we spent many days together. She wrote this poem on July 5, 1983. I cry every time I read it. OLD FOLKS HOME It was pretty quiet down at the old folks home, Most residents there were asleep. The nurses, sitting around their desk, Could sometimes hear them weep. The sobs went echoing through the halls Like sounds of ghosts long gone. Some would be joining the ghosts very soon, The rest would be lingering on. My husband! My daughter! My son, where are you? Come get me! I need you now! But nobody answers - theyve heard it before - So they sit with their heads in a bow. I never would have thought you would do this to me, I wouldnt have done it to you! Id try to be helpful if youd take me in - Ill do what you want me to do. I know that Im frail and cant do very much, But I could tell how to do it yourself. Ive been good at teaching husband and kids, Im not ready to be put on a shelf. Give me a chance - oh, wont you please? These people are strangers to me. I want my friends Ive had all my life, Thats who Im longing to see! My loved things are gone, Ive got one little chest To put all my faded clothes in. Except for some pictures, and a postcard or two, What I own in this world is sure thin. But the thing thats so crushing, that grieves me so much - It seems that nobody cares. I never did realize how old Ive become And it caught me so unawares. How many years will my sentence be, Lord? For prison is what this will be. I really dont think I deserve this at all - So please, wont You rescue me? The nurses, still sitting where they were before, Thought they heard a strange voice. When they stood up and looked down the long hallway, They saw Jesus taking His choice! Ill take you, my dear; youve suffered too long, And this man belongs to Me. I think Ill take several to come to My house, Id love for you to live with Me. The old broken bodies came walking right out, As strong as their youth used to be, And radiant were faces, free from all pain, And blind eyes could again see. The places on earth called Old Folks Homes Are as sad as places can be. But no place is hidden from Jesus, Our Lord, And that thought sure comforts me. Mary Alice Crider 7/5/1983
Posted on: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 00:22:44 +0000