Vangie sits on the front row every third Sunday when we come to do our Southern Gospel service. She is fairly young, probably not much older than I am, and her short, black hair is peppered with a few gray hairs. Vangie’s body has betrayed her. It is twisted in unnatural directions and her head tilts to the left. She is slumped in her chair and looks uncomfortable. She’s been in the convalescent home for over a year maybe longer. She always listens intently to the message and often raises a hand of praise during the service.

Almost every time, Vangie gives me her confession. She tells me the worries of her mind or the problems that she is having physically or spiritually. Today, for example, she told me that she had bad news about her heart, and asked me to pray about it. She followed it up by telling me the horrors of cell phones and technology and told me that she had warned her family about it. She often tells me that she has asked God for forgiveness for bad thoughts or bad attitudes, and once, she asked me to lay hands on her and pray. I did. Usually, I can’t separate the fact from the fiction, but I don’t have to. I’m just there to remind Vangie as often as needed that she doesn’t need to carry that baggage anymore.

I’ve learned not to try to second guess their stories anymore. I don’t waste time trying to figure out if what they just told me was true because it doesn’t really matter. It’s their truth right now, and they believe it. My job isn’t to find the truth, but only to listen and love them.

As I go from person to person, I find some who seem to have real clarity and others who have drifted to another realm entirely, but I greet them all the same and know that God will sort out the details. It’s part of the job.

When you work with people like this, you learn to turn off the judgement button because you never know what you might get. The deterioration of the body often includes the mind as well, and I find that it’s a real relief to be able to turn off that judgement button and take people for who they are.

I wish we could do that more with everyone. Many of the people that I have been the closest to in my life are ones who I made snap judgements about. I once nearly didn’t take a job because of a girl in another department, but after I did, she and I turned out to have so much in common that we became close friends. Think what I would’ve missed out on if I had gone with my first impression. I can think of at least three friends that I have now who were the same kind of experiences. For that reason, I try not to listen to anyone else about what they think about someone. I make my own decision, and I always give people several chances to prove me wrong.

The people in the convalescent home have taught me a lot about acceptance of people regardless of the state of their bodies, minds, and looks. They have taught me that deep inside the shell is a living, breathing soul and they all are cherished children of the living God. I have stopped feeling sorry about their conditions to the point that I nearly don’t see it anymore. I overlook droopy eyes as if they don’t exist and clasp hands that are gnarled from stroke with an ease I didn’t have six years ago when I started this ministry.

People like Vangie remind us that we are slaves of our physical selves, but they also remind us that judgement is better left to God.