The sun was setting behind the warehouses as Teckla and I walked home after getting hugs and saying goodnight to the grandchildren. We live only a few blocks away, but sometimes I like to ask Teckla to lead us home. When we got to the corner, I asked Teckla whether we should go to the left or right.
She was baffled but not distraught. I simply waited as she looked up and down Popular Street. Her blue eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “Mark!” Almost immediately her face fell as she mumbled, “That isn’t a direction, is it?”
“No,” I said, “but that’s okay.” I humbly realized that for Teckla, in the fog of dementia, “Mark” was the right direction. Whether we had gone left or right, I would have gotten her home. She trusted me.
Who she went with was more important than which direction we walked. Of course, my heart toward Teckla melted, but at the same time I realized how often I have not known the right direction. In our polarized society, there is a lot of pressure to choose between left and right.
When forced to choose, I often say, “Jesus.” I am sure we will make it home.
