"Dawn, you need to meet someone..."

It seems like pieces of Jesus were imparted into each of us when we were forming in the womb. Frankly, the more I think on this, the more aware I become that this is quite true, and so utterly beautiful. Life provides the platform of many stories that seem to prove this, but I have one very personal one: my sister, Kim. It feels like my heart leaves shavings scattered on I-95 between Pennsylvania and North Carolina from every time I leave her. But this last trip home reminded me again of just how remarkable she is in every way. From the time she was in high school she has made it her personal mission to dignify people who are often considered the social discards of our society. Now, for those of us who have grandparents or great aunts and uncles we have loved, we shutter at the thought that they are no longer considered a part of the accomplished and thriving population of the day. For Kim, every soul matters, no matter what age or physical ability or mental capacity. She looks them in the eye and touches them with the warm, supernatural grace of God. Sometimes it comes through simple, human means. Like Kim.

My mom and I were picking her up to head to Lancaster, PA for a girls afternoon so we stopped in Linden Halls. A nursing home. Long hallways lined with a few wheelchairs and the sounds of T.V. game shows spilling out of each dimly lit room. To me, to you...it almost seems like waiting for death. But for Kim, this is opportunity to love, to honor and to glean from those who have walked many more miles than we thought were possible.

“Dawn, come down here. I want you to meet a woman who is 105. When will you ever meet someone 105?”

At that moment, she thought about my basic need. A lost value for such an interaction as this. And she was right, and I felt a scared moment come upon me. Leaning down, I touched her hand. I looked her in the eye, hoping for a connection. It may sound strange, but with no exaggeration, I felt as if I were in the presence of someone famous, but even more than that. 105. A gift I never knew I wanted, and Kim saw the need, the essential value for me to meet with someone who has lived my life more than twice over. I didn’t say much, just asked her if she loved my sister as much as I did, to which she managed to say she did.

I forgot about the pointless things that in other moments take up too much space. It didn’t matter what I was wearing or who I knew or what my paycheck was. It didn’t matter if I was short or tall, if I had on my make-up correctly, or if I knew how to blog well. My degree was not a topic, nor the school I attended. I was staring in the face of someone who had one thing to consider: the culmination of many years, and what that produced in her final days. I didn’t ask her about her GPA or her most favorite place to shop. I was glad she knew my sister loved her. And I know it mattered that I looked her in the eye and touched her hand.

She died not long after I saw her. My sister told me. It mattered that I met a lady who was 105 years old.

My sister sits with people who are sitting on the edge, anticipating the end and reflecting on all that was. What an honor and a privilege. Few could do this. But see, that is what I love about Kim. She has always loved them. She isn’t afraid of them or intimidated by their needs. And to put it mildly, they love her. They smile when they see her. I guess they would tip her if it were money that ultimately mattered. But somewhere along the time line core values seem to shift quite a bit. So Kim seems a lot like Jesus to me, caring for the least, caring for those who are alone in the corner of a dim room, in a stiff chair and with no conversation. She lights them up, and she does the same for me.

Truth be told, she always has.

P.S. The woman in the picture is Mildred...she is not the lady I was speaking of. My sister still loves on her all the time! She's so cute.