Love Thy Neighbor

I wish this were a joke.

Knock, knock

Matt: Come in. Hi, Bob. How are you today?

Bob: I’m blessed, Matt. Very blessed.

Matt: Well, what can I do for you?

Bob: I can’t find anyone to cut my fingernails. Will you just do it for me? I’ve got the clippers right here.

Matt: I’m sorry Bob. I don’t do that. You need to talk to Steve. He’ll make sure someone clips your nails for you.

Bob: Oh…

He turns to leave, then looks back to me.

Bob: You know, it would only take you three minutes.

Matt: I know, but only a trained aide is allowed to do that for you.

Bob: Fine.

He leaves. Three minutes later, another non-joke.

Knock, knock.

Matt: Come in. Hi, Bob. What can I do for you now?

Bob: I just wanted to show you this passage from the bible. Romans 10:10. Read it out loud, please.

Matt: “For it is in your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.”
…That’s nice, Bob.

Bob: You see, that’s how I try to live my life.

Bob leaves, and my head hits the desk.

Bob moved into our assisted living facility about five months ago. I can’t believe it was that long ago. It feels like much longer. Nearly one hundred residents live in that area of the building, and I know every one of them. Some are laid back. Some are depressed. Some are forgetful and agitated. Some are lazy. Some are grumpy. None of them scare me. Bob scares me.

He has scared me from the day I met him. Already a tall man, Bob is imposing, frowny, and loud. My first conversation with him mostly involved him grilling me with questions about my family, my values, and, most importantly, my church.

Not my faith. My church. Because the church is the most important thing.

Now, I work at a very conservative, heavily Christian Reformed center. You will find difficulty finding even a Baptist in this place. Many are strict about the theology of their faith, and often express as much, but Bob was on another level.

He has now told me (and probably everyone else) on many occasions the details of his life story. About how he quit his job because there weren’t enough Christians working there. About how he left his church because they were letting women preach, and about how his wife divorced him because he was “too intense.” I have heard him tell women this, only for them to tell him that they would have divorced him, too.

He loves to share his story, and when he isn’t sharing, he tries to start up awkward debates about family values, reformed theology, and the fine black line between heaven and fiery hell.

Perhaps he would be easy to ignore, if not for his volume. When Bob gets excited, he gets loud. Really loud. And angry. He directs his yelling at you and you can feel his sound waves peeling back your skin as his words wriggle underneath and make you feel dirty and disgusting. It makes you hate him. And fear him. And be a little awed by him.

Then came the move.

It wasn’t a big move. My department of three just moved to a newer, bigger office, close by. It was nicer, nearer to activity rooms, and more accessible to residents.

But it was more accessible to residents, and to one resident in particular… who lived right across the hall.

All of a sudden I saw Bob every day. I saw him when I arrived in the morning. I saw him when I left my office. I saw him while I was in my office. I needed space. I started keeping the office door closed. I stopped inviting him to activities, thinking he could choose to go or not go on his own, and then I wouldn’t have to initiate contact with him.

Then one day, he came to our men’s group. There was only a small group of us that day. Me, a few residents, and Bob. This was Bob’s first meeting, and probably the last for others.

Bob took over as soon as we sat down, fixing us with his hard stare and firing uncomfortable and personal questions about our upbringing, our denominational backgrounds, and our core values. He talked about the Reformed Church, ignoring the Baptists sitting on either side of him. He talked about his past, about his decisions and his steadfast beliefs. Ken handled him amazingly well, often turning Bob’s comments into questions. Bob got louder, to the point where I normally had to look away, but this time I watched.

Bob talked for 45 minutes, and based on the reactions of the other men in the group (which included a CRC pastor), no one agreed with him on anything. I watched as Bob grew louder, and his comments got more and more off topic, and then I realized what was happening. Bob was over 90 years old. I couldn’t imagine living 90+ years without having someone agree with me. He spent his time day after day after day asking the same questions and shouting about the same topics, perhaps just hoping to find someone out there to take his side. The group time ended, and we all walked out quietly.

Later that day, I stopped by Bob’s room and invited him to our exercise group. I thought maybe he would enjoy a little neighborly love.

* Resident names have been changed