The Neglected Grandmother

"Can you come visit a woman?" My friend asked one afternoon. "Sure," I thought it would be a good little afternoon adventure. "She has TB and no one is there to take care of her," she said. And off I went with Cami in tow.

When we arrived to her house, she couldn't sit up. Her younger sister was sitting outside the door and greeted us warmly with her strangely blue eyes. "This will be interesting," I mumbled to myself. As we stooped down into the house and sat on the two plastic chairs, the woman's daughter helped her sit up so that she could see us. She was so frail and weak that it was hard not to just take her and hold her like a small child. She couldn't have weighed more than 80 pounds from the looks of her, but I just sat and held her hand.

As my friend started telling us about her family, I wondered, "where are they all?" The 4 sons and 1 of her 2 daughters lived nearby, but no one ever came to visit. One of her youngest grandsons, only 15 years old was trying to look after her. But he was having trouble finding work on the fishing ships. So as we stayed for about an hour in the sad little house with one light and a small fan, we prayed for healing for this woman and for her grandson to be blessed with work and health too.

"They do pray to Jesus during Christmas time," my friend informed me. I even recognized the all too common tattoo of a cross on the grandson's hand under his thumb. There still were pictures of gods in their home, but we prayed to the One True God for their healing and support. We promised to come back again soon.

We visited a few days later to see that she was a little better. "Her daughter that has been taking care of her wants to go back to her village. She will leave here tomorrow," my friend said with sadness in her voice. Then who will take care of her? Where will she stay? Apparently one of her sons had a place for her to stay. We will come visit again, we promised.

After the weekend, we went back again. This time, we had an arsenal of fingernail clippers and red fingernail polish. My friend has mentioned last time that her nails were really long and needed to be cut. I knew this was something that I could easily do.

When we arrived at the son's house, we were informed that the woman's room was just around the corner. Confused, we followed the daughter-in-law to an alleyway where the grandmother was staying. Apparently the son had set up a buzzer for her to push in case she needed anything, but most days she was just left alone except for when it was time to eat or bathe or use the bathroom.

We went into the little side room and I sat on the bed beside her. As I pulled out my clippers, I saw a big smile come upon her face. It only got bigger as I pulled out a fingernail file too. And then there was a small chuckle when Cami went to paint her nails. We gave her a pedicure as well and left again after some prayer for healing and a promise to come again.

The last time we went to visit her, she was talking and smiling, able to sit up on her own. It was such a change from the first time we had met her that both Cami and I looked at each other with big smiles on our faces thanking the Big Man for his answered prayers. So wonderful.

Being able to visit this grandmother brings me joy and sadness in the same. Joy to see the joy on her face, and sadness because I know my great-grandmother is in a similar situation on her last leg of life back home. She will pass away soon, and I won't be able to be there to grieve with my family. She has had a wonderfully full 92 years, and now is ready to join her mom and father in heaven. So each time I leave the place where the old woman resides, I ask my Father to help my great-grandmother to pass peacefully and painlessly in these last few days of hers on the Earth. And ask that someone else will help her have smiles on her face like the joy I see in the old woman in the slum.

Love you Gammy.