One hazy afternoon, we walked into one of the most serene places I’ve ever been. The courtyard of the elderly home we had come to visit was filled with cacao trees and flowers in full bloom. It was incredibly quiet in contrast with the chaotic streets outside. Clothes lines were strung at random across the paths. The faded shirts and dresses appeared to be flags upon first look, moving gently in the cool breeze.
Upon entering, we were directed to a pagoda where several of the residents were sitting quietly in the shade. Many of them struggled to rise and greet us. We tried to assure them that there was no need to get up, but they either ignored our protests or didn’t understand our lack-luster Spanish, and got up to kiss our faces and shake our hands. I was surprised by the firm grip of one gentleman named Luiz. Pastor Ronnie, who had served as our driver, stepped in as a translator, too. He explained that Luiz had a delightful voice and used to play guitar.
The men and women that had gathered all stared at us intently, maybe even more determined to understand us than we were to understand them. Almost everyone on our team later noted how their eyes had contained such life in them despite their old age. Most of them were light colored, suffering from strain. Some hadn't seen colors or shapes in years. But they contained smiles, and seemed to speak to younger, happier times.
We promptly pulled the wooden benches, wheel chairs, and plastic chairs into a wannabe circle and smiled at each other, breaking the language barrier with our laughter and makeshift sign language.
Having brought my guitar with me, I quickly unpacked it and asked Luiz, via Pastor Ronnie, if he would play for us. As I handed him the guitar, his eyes lit up. He smiled, revealing his last three teeth, and proceeded to un-tune my guitar until it sounded just right… to him.
The small, frail woman sitting next to him in her wheelchair clasped her hands together tightly as he tuned. She explained that they were the two oldest residents and were clearly destined to get married. Ah, young love. We all laughed as Luiz blushed slightly.
Luiz then cleared his throat and explained the premise of the song in Spanish. All I was able to decipher was that it was an old Guatemalan tune before he launched into a ballad. Suddenly he looked twenty years younger. The opportunity to play again seemed to have dredged up emotions from earlier decades of life, and they flowed through his crackly voice with gusto. Song after song, he played on. He focused seriously on each of the four chords he remembered, and being completely enraptured in the tune, he seemed to forget that we were there until we applauded between songs.
Half way through the first song, I realized that I was beaming. There was something about watching Luiz play that brought me a deep joy. Giving that man an opportunity to relive sweet memories had made dragging that guitar through customs more than worth it. And this slight gentleman had reminded me that our God is the God of lifetimes. He had walked with Luiz through life up to that very moment, and surely He’ll see his child into glory. And in that moment, Luiz will see him with new, bright eyes.
“… even to your old age I am he,
and to gray hairs I will carry you.
I have made, and I will bear.
I will carry and I will save.” – Isaiah 46:4 (ESV)
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