the elderly

Some friends and I had taken a boat to an island off the coast. the ruins we saw under the clear turquoise water were reminders of civilizations past. we stopped at the small island to see the castle on the top of the hill; however, we never entered the castle ruins. we wandered around the small island that was blooming with flowers and pomegranate trees. goats and rams were unloaded from small boats and tied up outside the small dwellings in preparation for the sacrifice the next day. as we wandered around taking in all the smells and quaint sights, an elderly lady drinking juice from a box, called us over to talk to her. She was blind and had many aches and pains that she wanted to tell someone about. I talked with her, held her hand, but refused to sit down beside her explaining that we were on a tour of her island. She was very insisted and after we left her, i was had a twinge of remorse that i did not take the time to sit and listen to her heart. i had more important things to do it seemed. we keep on walking trying to find the path that would lead us toward the docks where we could sit and enjoy a cup of tea. we passed by a small house and heard moaning sounds coming from the window. as we drew closer we realized it was a elderly woman in bed rocking back and forth, groaning either from physical pain or from a broken heart. as we sat in our boat back to the mainland, my heart was saddened by these two elderly women, for whom Christ died, that would not have much of a chance to hear the good news tucked away on a tiny island. who was caring for them? would they die without hope? i vowed that next time i would forgo my cup of tea to take time to listen to the elderly, knowing that one day i will be one too.