Scatter Sunshine.

Across the street from the gymnastics gym where my kids take classes is a nursing home. I'd never been there before tonight, though I'd often thought about it. I think there is a certain blessing that comes in to children's lives when they learn to respect and love the elderly. My kids grandparents are far from elderly. I mean, their old enough to be grandparents, but they certainly aren't nursing home material. I found myself wondering in the past if there was someone that may need a visit, someone that would benefit from the young and vibrant faces of my sweet children.

But nursing homes are often intimidating, funny smelling places. And old people can be disarming with their many struggles and ailments and needs. Besides, we didn't know anyone to visit. So I put the thought aside.

And then by chance, one afternoon, Josh learned of John - his assistants' 93 year old step father living in the nursing home here in town. "The nicest man," she said, "though he doesn't get visitors very often."

So tonight we made a batch of oatmeal cookies and piled our kids in the car to go see John. All afternoon, the kids debated what jokes they wanted to tell John during our visit. And then, on our way out the door, Sam ran to the printer and grabbed a handful of paper and some pens so he could draw John a picture when we arrived. I marveled at their sweet sincerity and added yet another item to the long list of life lessons I've learned from my children.

Our visit was wonderful. We learned that John flew planes during World War II. We smiled at pictures of his kids and delighted at his stories. He gave the kids a tiny American flag, and a piece of candy and happily accepted their carefully crafted pictures.

When Henry became a bit overwhelmed with the tiny room we were visiting in, I took him in to the hallway for a change of scenery. There we met Areva, a woman who proudly told me of her son, "a good Christian man." She told me I had lovely children that she'd love to see again if I ever wanted to drop by. Before I left, she promised to get some chewing gum and keep it in her drawer for them. We also met Tom, a Tarheel fan who told me all about his radio, that he'd built from scratch many years ago. He smiled at Henry, and tickled his foot, calling him a "delightful, handsome boy."

As we left, another woman far down the hall, waved and called hello to the children. I realized then that to many of these individuals, it hardly matters if they know you or not. To live a life surrounded by people and then find yourself at the end, living in a small room, alone and lonely much of the time... I would imagine just about any visitor is a welcome one. And the children, in all their youth and infectious vitality, were literal beams of sunshine walking down those dull hallways.

When I drop off the kids for their gymnastics lessons, instead of sitting in the parking lot, or driving circles around the block to keep the baby entertained, I think I'm going to go and visit John, and Areva, and Tom, and anyone else that would like to see Henry roar like a bear, or proudly point to his nose and his belly.

If it fills my heart even half as much as it did tonight, it will surely be a worthwhile visit.

My confession? I was long overdue for a reminder to wake up... to think less about myself and pay a bit more attention to the world around me. I can't do much. But I can try. So try I will, to scatter a bit of sunshine here and there, reaching in to the dimly lit corners of a nursing home and of my own heart.

Hold me to it, will you?