Caroling

I don't have a picture for this post, just a story. Sorry.
Isaac and I went with a group of neighbor moms and kids to sing carols at two nursing homes this month. The first time, I was so impressed with a few families who were teaching their toddlers and preschoolers to go up to the residents and make a connection - giving one of the cards we'd made, giving a hug, or just saying Merry Christmas. I always want to do this, but if I'm having an introverted day, it can be hard to just walk up to someone I don't know, even if it seems like the right thing. Isaac makes it easier, of course.
The second time we went caroling, we ended up talking to a wonderful woman with an Eastern European accent. Her name was Julia, and she had recently lost her 28-year-old son, who had collapsed suddenly right in front of her. She reached out to us as soon as we entered the dining hall, and she thought Isaac was really cute, so it was easy to have a conversation and natural to give a hug to a mother like me who had loved her boy so much.
Downstairs as we were leaving, a woman was sitting silently in a wheelchair. She was quite old and not in the best of health, but there was something regal about her too. She was watching the kids as we put jackets on and prepared to go back to our happy lives. I felt like I should reach out to her. But it was an effort, and I didn't know if it would matter anyway. Finally, to be polite, once I had Isaac ready, I led him to her and asked him to say hi. Merry Christmas. Anything. He was tired, hungry, and uncooperative. But finally, I got him to smile and wave at her. She looked me in the eye and quietly said "Thank you."
I had no idea that our small greeting would mean so much, that it was something to thank us for. I was humbled, and a little ashamed that it had taken me such an effort. I told her to have a Merry Christmas, and we left to go shop for a party, but she has stayed with me.