August 6, 2008

In hearing about the previous trips to Jamaica, one thing that everyone always talked about was visiting the infirmary. About how good it was to go there, and about the spirit of the residents there.

The infirmary is basically where people go to die. People with illnesses who can't take care of themselves, and who have no one able to take care of them. Sounded pretty depressing to me, so I was wondering why everyone talked about it so much. That had my curiosity up enough that I wanted to go as well, just to see what everyone was talking about.

Because our group was painting the church building, we didn't get to go to the infirmary for the first few days that we were there. But the Chattanooga group went and talked to everyone, taking some pictures for some crafts they wanted to make for the residents. And then after a few days, we got our chance to go along as well.

When we arrived, one of the residents, a man named Jackson, was sitting outside; he was known by several of the group from their previous visits. We were going to sing him some songs, but instead he said he wanted to sing us some songs. I wasn't familiar with some of them, although one about being "under the Rock" was memorable. And then he sang "Blessed Assurance", which is one of our familiar church songs. He said it was his favorite song. We sang him a song or two, and then he sang to us again. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if we had stayed out there with him all day, but we needed to go inside and see others as well.

The main buildings of the infirmary are two long, nearly identical dormitory buildings, one for the men and one for the women. The buildings are open all the way down, with beds on each side. Pipe rails hang from the ceiling with sheets draped over them. Apparently, the sheets can be arranged on the rails to give some privacy if needed. But the sheets were all up to allow the air to flow through, since there wasn't any air conditioning. At one end of each building were bathroom stalls without any doors. And at the other end was a television. It seemed strange in some ways to see shows such as "George Lopez" and "Family Matters" playing there. For one reason, seeing such typical American fare playing there wasn't what I was expecting. But then on a deeper level, these comedies seemed certainly out of place in such a serious setting. At the end of the beds up against the walls were some personal belongings of the residents, probably all that they had in the world.

In each building, we wandered around talking to the different residents. People talked, sang, played dominos, took pictures, hugged, shook hands, and just generally spent time with the residents. As I was walking by one man, he saw my camera and said, "Take my picture! Take my picture!" Of course I did, as he was smiling proudly while lying in his bed.

The people there were afflicted with things that seem commonplace in the United States - diabetes, arthritis, old age. I would guess that the age range of the residents was between 20 and 80. One particularly young girl had some severe form of autism. It seemed like there should be a way to help. But the best help we could provide was some encouragement through talking, singing, touching.

In each building, we gathered around to sing a couple of songs and have a prayer. I was asked to lead the songs, and all that I could think of quickly was "Amazing Grace" and "Blue Skies and Rainbows". And I reflected on how those songs suddenly had a much different meaning to me. We usually sing them when things are going well and everything seems fine. But here, the residents would sing along with us. To them perhaps, these songs meant that God's grace is good, even when things seem bad.

Looking back now, the image that stays with me the most of our visits to the infirmary is that of Brother Jackson. Old, gray hair, missing teeth. Singing "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine". He may not have had much in the world, but he has an eternity to make up for it.

You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more. - Psalm 10:17-18

See more pictures from the Infirmary in the DesertedIsland.net Gallery.

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