All those lonely people...

When Sue and I moved down to Leicester, one of the implications of the move was that we would have to find suitable accommodation for Sue's elderly mother.  While we lived in Doncaster, we could just about manage to offer Sue's mum, who lived near Hull, the support which she needed, even though Sue's regular trips to take her mum to various hospital appointments was rather draining at times.  We knew that once we moved down to Leicester, she would be moving with us.

Initially we had her name down for sheltered accommodation, but it became obvious that her health and physical condition would not be good enough to allow her to manage even sheltered accommodation.  Initially, therefore, we made our dining room into a bed-sit, and Sue's mum lived with us for a few weeks.  She made it clear that she wanted us to find a suitable care home.  After visiting a few, we finally found one fairly near our home which seemed suitable, and Sue's mum moved in last week for a trial period.  It's early days, but we are hoping and praying that she will soon feel settled and content.

Last Saturday Sue and I called in to see mum in her new home, and spent part of the afternoon with her.  As tea time approached, we went into the large lounge which adjoins the dining area.  Mum found an empty seat, and we sat nearby.  I noticed a gentleman sitting near mum, and we soon got into conversation.  He introduced himself as John*, and I told him that he reminded me of my uncle of the same name.  John informed me that during his working life he had been a milkman; it was clear from what he said that he had enjoyed his work (apart from the very early starts when the weather was cold and wet!)

John was born and brought up in Leicester.  He has two children, one who lives in the north of the country, the other who lives in the south.  One of his children had invited John to live with him, but John preferred to stay in his home city of Leicester, the place he had known all his life.  He had only recently moved into the home, and was still in the process of coming to terms with the move.  His eyesight isn't good, and it is clear that he is having a bit of a struggle adjusting to the new was of living.   It seemed that John is quite lonely.  I tried to imagine how I would cope in his situation.

I thoroughly enjoyed my brief chat with John, he seemed a lovely man.  I think that he appreciated the time we spent together, and we shook hands as I left.  I hope that I will have opportunity to chat with him again.  As I left the care home, I thought about the many other men and women who live there.  Some will have regular visitors, but not all.  I'm sure that there will be many lonely people in care homes up and down the country; many others who live on their own who rarely have a meaningful conversation.  To feel isolated and alone must be an awful experience.  As the Beatles asked all those years ago, 

"All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?"

The Psalmist knew about loneliness:
 

'Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.'

Psalm 25:16

God knows and loves every lonely person.  But he calls us to notice, too.  We all know lonely people, and it doesn't cost much to give up a little of our time to make a difference.  We may not be able to offer friendship and time to all lonely people, but perhaps we can offer it to a few; for them, it could mean the world.

*John is not his real name, but I thought it best not to use his real name; God knows.