The old woman did not want to move out of her house of sixty-two years. The yellowing wallpaper, her kitchen cabinets containing her mother’s dishes, her old gas stove with its teakettle, her marriage bed, and the front porch all defined her familiar life. Her home was part of her individuality, but ever since she had fallen, she’d slowly come to understand that her home wasn’t safe for her any more. It was time, as she had always known would come, to move to the nursing home.

Our homes, and the things we keep inside our homes, become extensions of identity as we age. When we lose our homes, we can feel uprooted and unsettled. Many elderly grieve a loss of self-identity when they move from their own homes, because our homes become a part of who we are, and extensions of ourselves. 

Often enough, in nursing homes, few precious personal items remain on display in a resident’s room, barely rooting them into life, past or current. Family photos, drawings by grandchildren, and cards of remembrance each declare – I am 

someone.  Someone loves me. I belong. 

Let’s Pray: Dear God, the dearest objects of this world to us, those things that give us identity, like pictures of people who love us, like our homes – these are things that give us hope, help define us, and remind us of who we are. Wherever we are, at whatever age we are, calm our worries, give us hope, and keep us secure in the palm of Your hand.  Amen.

A Thought from Scripture:  Hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.* 

Source:

*1 Cor. 13:13