Visiting the nursing home yesterday cheered me up.

That’s not the reaction I’ve always had after such a visit. But yesterday, after helping my friend Shirley deliver library books to residents of the independent living/assisted living/nursing home across the street, I felt strangely encouraged.

At the time, I thought it was because we had recovered all but one of the books and videos we had previously delivered. But today, as I look back at the visit, I realize it was the attitudes of the residents.

Could they be depressed and self-pitying? Of course. For most, if not all of them, this is their last home. The day they moved in, they had to admit their mortality.

If they live long enough, those in the two-bedroom apartments in the Independent Living wing at the south end of the building will move to the Assisted Living wing, and as they need more constant care, to the Nursing Home wing.

As we carried our bags of books into the assisted living wing, we were greeted by Elnor, a friend and fellow church member, who seems to have a permanent smile on her face. Her book appetite is so healthy one of the bags we bring is filled with nothing but her books – eight to ten a month. She was the town librarian for more than 30 years.

With her was a gentleman who has apparently suffered a stroke, because his speech is slurred and difficult to understand. He greeted me with a compliment on the new railing across our front porch. I had no idea he knew who I was. (Apparently they talk about us after we leave.)

The three who cheered me most, though, were in the nursing home wing.

Luree has been in the nursing home for over a year. Her room is as comfortable and bright as her disposition. She was a school secretary for 32 years. She told us she enjoys the care she receives, adding that the lunch room was especially fun, because so many of the residents don’t know whether they are coming and going.

Rather than finding their condition depressing – as I often have – she finds it amusing! She’s not insensitive. I think that rather than looking at them with pity and fear of becoming like them, she chooses to see them as friends who are a little off their heads. I have never encountered that attitude before. I want to know Luree better in order to understand how she manages to maintain her sense of humor.

When we delivered books to Katie, whose need for care is evident by her dependence on an oxygen tank, she mentioned a recent stay in the local hospital. But she was not complaining. She expressed cheerful gratitude. “I’m okay. At least I still have my mind.” She was especially proud of the large purple and white bouquet from her son who had come back home last week for the county fair.

We deliver only movies to Karen. She’s unusual at the nursing home, because she appears to be in her 50’s. She’s not ambulatory; I’ve never seen her out of her chair, nor is there a walker in the room. I don’t know how long she’s been in the nursing home nor for what reason. But she radiates tranquility and kindness. I’m curious about her story, especially how she has attained such graceful acceptance of her condition.

Obviously, those we visited are still mentally capable of reading, comprehension, and communication. And I realize that in the nursing home wing, they may be in the minority.

I noted two who fit our typical expectations. One woman is noticeably weaker each time we visit. At almost 11:00 a.m., she was still in bed and fast asleep. We located the books she had borrowed and quietly left her room.

The other one I had not seen before. She was sitting in the hallway, staring blankly into space. She showed no recognition at Shirley’s greeting, even though they had been neighbors. Beside her sat an aide. That’s all she was doing, sitting quietly by the older woman’s side. And that, for the moment, was enough.

So for those who have lost their abilities to read, comprehend, or communicate, I am cheered by the kindness they receive from the nursing home aides and nurses. Bless them. I am in wonder at the length and breadth of their love and compassion.

Maybe, as I did yesterday, they receive more than they give to these warriors of life.