One break on, one break off, the Alzheimer’s resident in the wheel chair was pushing himself round and round in a circle. I was playing some of the romantic waltzes I mentioned in last week’s post to a group of Alzheimer’s patients. Most of them were fascinated by the music. One lady repeatedly asked me how long I’ve been playing harp, saying “wow” every time I replied. Another gentleman proclaimed that he wished I would never stop. But the man in the wheel chair didn’t seem to be aware of the music. He just muttered numbers and pushed himself round and round, one wheel locked in place.
As I watched over my music stand, his circle was a perfect symbol of memory loss. In five years of playing in senior communities, I have had many conversations that seem to be on a loop. They ask the same question (“How long have you played?”) and I give the same answer (“Nine and a half years”) every five minutes.
But you don’t have to have memory loss to feel like you are going in circles. We all fall into patterns that feel like they are going nowhere. For me it is school and practice and more school, the circle of get up, work, study and go to bed. Sometimes, my wheels feel locked.
But as I listened closer, I started to understand the numbers the man was saying. “One, two, three. One (push), two (push), three (push).” He was waltzing to my harp music through his wheelchair.
Routines and Alzheimer’s aren’t the only things that go around in circles. As I walked out of that facility into a surprisingly temperate day, (this was Monday, before the snow slid in) I threw my arms back and turned around. Dancers and praisers also turn circles. And like that gentleman in the wheel chair, they continuing turning all the live long day.
I want my circles to be waltzes of praise.
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.