Today I had two routine visitors to very elderly women who live in care homes. Each was a blessing in its own way.
Firstly a visit to a woman who in her youth served with BMS in India and now, in her nineties sits quietly in the living room of the home and, inceasingly passes her day resting her eyes. I sat next to her and she reached for my hand. I held it as we chatted, and continued to as sleep overtook her. A pianist came in to entertain the residents. Another woman wandered to the piano and 'la la la-ed' along to the muisc, her voice clear and true even if the words of the songs, had she ever known them, were long gone. The tune chaged to 'my Bonny lies over the ocean', my quiet comanion openned her eyes and sang along, her hand firm in my own as we swung them together. A beautiful half hour, ministry as presence, quiet companionship... ministry as blessing.
And then to the widow of a Baptist minister, the oldest person with whom I currently have contact. In great form today, she shared stories, held court and laughed lustily. Memories of pastorates long past, opinions formed by experience of a lifetime, and enjoyment of the company of those who regularly visit at varying frequencies. A very different experience, and just as precious. Still ministry as presence, still quiet companionship... still ministry as blessing.
For an introvert who finds small talk tricky, these quiet, even silent, visits are precious indeed.