Blessed are the devoted,
the ones who, driven by love,
have the daily dogged determination to show up.
The seeds sown and tended by their actions
will bear much fruit.
My father was a model of devotion.
Twice a day, every day, he visited my mother when she was in the nursing home.
On sunny days, he pushed her in her wheelchair into the courtyard where they sat, often in silence, because my mother had lost the ability to converse.
Some days, he pushed her in her wheelchair through the halls to the planned activities — the concerts, the sing-alongs, balloon baseball, or bowling.
Every day, he sat with her for her meals, making sure she ate.
When his driving became such that people spoke to me about it, I drove him there. Or my brother drove him. But he always went.
His example that made a deep impression on me.
Blessed are the devoted.
Blessed also are the witnesses to such devotion.