Vanderbilt: Dare to grow

At Golden Acres Assisted Living, I am the only person under sixty who knows that Mr. Abernathy takes his coffee with exactly four sugars and that Doris in Room 12 will tell you her wedding story if you simply pull up a chair. My grandmother moved there when I was twelve, and because my parents work nights, I became her Sunday visitor. ¹What started as an obligation turned into something I cannot imagine living without. I learned to slow my sentences for residents who process speech a beat behind, to read a face that has forgotten my name but not my voice. For a long time I thought patience was something you either had or did not. Sitting with Doris through the same story for the fortieth time taught me it is a muscle, and mine was weak. ²I stopped finishing her sentences. I started letting silence do its work. By spring, I was training two younger volunteers to do the same, writing them little notes: "Doris likes to lead. Let her." ³At Vanderbilt, I want to bring that patience to the Best Buddies chapter and to late-night dorm conversations where the easiest thing is to interrupt. ⁴I have learned that the most valuable thing you can offer another person is your full, unhurried attention. That is what I plan to carry across campus, one pulled-up chair at a time.