By Barb Arland-Fye
Editor
Uncle Larry appeared to be sleeping comfortably in his room in the senior living center last Sunday evening, the second Sunday of Advent. He was unable to attend our family holiday party, an annual tradition that he and his siblings and their families have cherished for years. The center’s quietness contrasted with the chatter and laughter that I experienced at the party.
In that pleasantly noisy atmosphere, celebrating with 80-plus relatives, I felt God nudging me to visit Uncle Larry, after talking with his first-born child, Mark, who makes daily visits to the center and prays with his dad. Mark assured me that his dad would welcome a visit and that if it looked like he was sleeping, just touch him on the shoulder. His eyes will open.
Uncle Larry could not have anticipated a visit from me, a niece who lives a six-hour drive from the Twin Cities where he lives with his wife, my Aunt Carol. When I entered his room and touched his shoulder, his eyes opened and registered his surprise. He lifted his left arm to hold tight to my arm and attempted to speak. The muscles that control his voice might have been too weak.
It didn’t matter to me. The bond I felt as his warm hand grasped my arm conveyed a love that does not require words. I filled him in on details from the party and shared my fond memories from childhood of visits to his and Aunt Carol’s home. He nodded as I spoke, affirming, among other things, the blessing of Mark’s visits, prayer time and being able to receive Communion that his son brings to him on Sundays.
Still grasping my arm, Uncle Larry used his other arm to attempt to reach for something on the table stand next to his bed. I thought he wanted his cell phone but he continued to reach toward the tissue box. I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. Slowly, he raised the tissue to his eyes and dabbed them. Then he mouthed some words, which I interpreted to mean, “I love you, Barbara.” I told him I loved him, too.
A nurse entered his room to check on Uncle Larry and ask whether he needed anything. “He’s my uncle,” I told her warmly, in case she was wondering. She said he had been sitting up in his chair but didn’t feel well so she had him lie down. She left the room, assured that he was resting comfortably.
In the quietude, I felt the hope of the Scripture readings for Advent. Luke’s Gospel for the second Sunday of Advent cited the words of the prophet Isaiah: “… Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
Pope Francis, in his Angelus of Dec. 13, 2020 (https://tinyurl.com/ yc57aa86), given in the midst of a demoralizing pandemic, said, “And joy must be the characteristic of our faith. Even in dark moments, that inner joy, of knowing that the Lord is with me, that the Lord is with us, that the Lord is Risen. The Lord! The Lord! This is the center of our life, and this is the center of our joy.”
The Holy Father asked us to “Think carefully today: how do I behave? Am I a joyful person who knows how to transmit the joy of being Christian…?” Even in his suffering, Uncle Larry transmitted Christian joy to me; I hope I did the same for him.
(Contact Editor Barb Arland-Fye at arland-fye@davenportdiocese.org)
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