The Story of Grandma Mickey

Written by Beth McLaughlin- Loving the Wise SoCal Regional Director

In October 2024, I was asked to visit a woman in memory care named Mickey who missed singing hymns. My church, Redemption Church North County, is only three minutes from the senior home in Carlsbad, so we arranged to lead a small Sunday afternoon gathering for the residents who could no longer attend church on their own.

On our first visit to Bayshire, we sat in a circle with a small group of residents, introduced ourselves, and passed out Loving The Wise song books. As we began singing, a woman in her late 90s walked down the hall. My heart nearly stopped. I hadn't realized the "Mickey" my friend mentioned was my old neighbor from fifteen years ago.

Back then, Mickey was far from welcoming. My husband and I lived across from her in a quiet cul-de-sac with our three young boys. As the kids learned to bike and skateboard, the noise clearly bothered her. She would yell at us to be quiet, slamming her windows and doors in frustration.

Initially, I was upset, but God shifted my perspective. I realized she was a neighbor we needed to love. We started leaving drawings on her door and dropping off muffins. Eventually, the walls came down. We learned she was caring for her husband, Norm, who was struggling with memory loss. She began inviting us in for chocolate milk and cookies, and my boys started calling her "Grandma Mickey." Before she eventually moved away, she gave us her large artificial Christmas tree—a tree our family still uses to this day.

I had assumed Mickey had passed away years ago, yet here she was, joining our circle with a smile. I sat next to her and asked for her favorite hymn. In a frail, 90-year-old voice, she sang Amazing Grace. She especially lit up when we sang the last verse:

"When we’ve been there ten thousand years

Bright shining as the sun

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Then when we'd first begun"

It is a beautiful, mysterious thing to witness: men and women who have forgotten so much about their own lives—their addresses, the date, even their families—yet they haven't forgotten the words to Amazing Grace. Their memories of the present may fade, but the hymns remain etched in their souls.

Over the following months, Grandma Mickey’s memory of us returned. I showed her photos of the now-grown boys and reminded her about the Christmas tree. Every Sunday, I made sure to sit by her, holding her hand as we sang. We talked about heaven—a place with no more sickness or tears. She would often say, "I’m not sure why I’m still here, but God has me here for a reason and when He’s ready He will call me home!"

By April 2025, Mickey’s health had declined. On our final visit, she was too weak to leave her room. My friend Lori and I stood by her bedside and softly sang the verses of Amazing Grace one last time. We prayed for her, told her we loved her and that we will all be together soon singing praise to God in heaven.

Mickey entered her eternal home the next day. It was a profound privilege to reconnect with my old neighbor—not as the woman who slammed doors, but as a sister in Christ I was able to help walk home.