If you're a born-again Christian and a student of God's word, have you ever considered conducting a Bible study at a local nursing home--or asking your pastor to do so? There's no doubt that such sessions can have a life-changing and eternal impact on residents, even for those whose cognitive skills have seen better days. As the 86-year-old protagonist of The Song of Sadie Sparrow learned in just such a group, it's never too late to change your tune.
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It was on this very day, under Jamie’s tutelage, that things began to click in Sadie’s occasionally befuddled brain.

The previous week, he had wrapped up his long but fascinating “tour of truth,” as he called it. He had spent several weeks on science. (Whoever would have guessed that the Bible made scores of scientific statements in passing, millennia before secular scientists made the same discoveries about everything from the sun’s own orbit to the mountains and valleys of the ocean floor? And whoever would have guessed that little ol’ Sadie Sparrow would manage to follow a fair portion of it?)

Next Jamie had walked the little class—Beulah, Charles, and Elise were now permanent fixtures, she was a little sorry to say—through the Good Book’s prophetic accuracy, focusing heavily on Israel’s rebirth as a nation in 1948. Not that she had noticed it back then, but Sadie vaguely recalled Ed talking about the situation in the Middle East with great excitement. So now at last she understood what the fuss was all about, and she regretted not paying more attention to him at the time. What fun they might have had discussing these things!
           
But what fun it was to learn about it now. It wasn’t that she really needed proof of the Bible’s authenticity as the word of God; she’d always respected Ed’s opinion on the matter. But this proof, confirmed continually by Charles’ enthusiastic “Amen!”, was making a difference in her attitude towards scripture. She was taking it very seriously now, and it was making her look at her life differently, reflect more on her blessed past, and see God’s hand in shepherding her along every step of the way.
           
And today a major piece of the puzzle would fall into place for her at last.
           
“So,” Jamie had said after they’d all exchanged happy greetings, “we’ve covered a lot of ground, especially in terms of science and history. What I’d like to talk about today is the gospel itself, and how confident you’re each feeling that heaven is your eternal destination.”
           
For some reason he was looking right at Sadie.
           
Am I supposed to go first?
           
“Why don’t we start with you, Sadie?” Jamie said cheerfully when she didn’t respond.

“Are you confident that you’re headed for heaven?”
           
“Oh yes, I think so. I believe in Jesus, and I’ve led a good life.”
           
Jamie cocked his head and looked at her expectantly, like a dog that didn’t quite understand his master’s command. She smiled at him and rubbed her hands together nervously. Of course, it was the wrong answer, and she knew it. She was just nervous about being quizzed in front of these other people, all of whom obviously knew a lot more about the Bible than she did. She racked her brain looking for the right phrase to rescue herself, but it was too late.

“So you’re a good person, are you, Sadie Sparrow?” 
           
That question she could handle.
           
“I try,” she said, smiling at the others. “I’ve learned from the best, after all—my parents, my husband, and now you!”
           
Jamie’s response was totally unexpected. “How many lies have you told in your life?” 
           
“Lies?” She was aghast. How could one even count? “Too many,” she replied, after an embarrassingly long delay.
           
“So you’re a liar.” Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “How about this—have you ever taken the Lord’s name in vain?”
           
“In vain?”
           
“Used it as an expression of dismay or anger or just as a casual exclamation?”
           
“Oh. Well, I suppose I have.”
           
So you’re a blasphemer, too. What about this: Have you ever hated anyone?”
           
“Oh no,” Sadie said, shaking her head. But immediately the image of Elsie Teckel popped into her mind—Elsie, the busybody neighbor who had repeatedly called the police on the Sparrows because of dear little Cappy’s barking. One yip was enough to send Elsie shuffling to her phone. And more often than not, the old bat had sparked the barking herself by letting her cat out when Cappy was outside with Ed.
           
“I take it back,” she admitted. “I guess I have hated.”
           
"And yet Jesus said that hating another is committing murder in your heart. So what does that make you?”
           
“A murderer?” She looked at Jamie hopefully, awaiting some reassurance. Surely a kind word was on the way.
           
“So you, Sadie Sparrow, are a liar, a blasphemer, a murderer at heart,” Jamie said softly. “Just like the rest of us. You’re not such a good person after all, are you?”
           
“No,” she said in a small voice, studying her hands. She felt thoroughly ashamed of herself, and hurt that Jamie was being so unkind to her.
           
But wait: He said “Just like the rest of us.” What does that mean?
           
“And this,” Jamie said, rising and stretching his arms out dramatically, “is why the gospel is such good news. Do you all see? When God the Son died on the cross, He died bearing all the sin this world has ever committed, and will ever commit. He took the full punishment for your sin, in other words, as well as mine—the punishment that would have landed us in hell for all eternity. And all we have to do to get our personal sins expunged is to repent of them and trust in Him instead of in our own goodness.”
           
“Amen,” said Charles, as Beulah and Elise nodded in agreement.
           
At first, Sadie couldn’t quite grasp it—it seemed almost too easy. But then something clicked in her heart.
           
“So my goodness doesn’t matter?” she asked.
           
“Not a bit, at least from the standpoint of getting into heaven.”
           
“Jesus paid it all,” Elise added, “just like the song says.”
           
“And goodness really doesn’t matter?” Sadie thought of all the hypocrites she’d known in church over the years and found herself vaguely disappointed that they might well be heaven-bound themselves.
           
Jamie sat down again and explained it all again—how repentance and trust result in being born again, and the indwelling of the Lord in the human heart, and how the new Christian then experiences growing love for, and obedience to, Jesus Christ.
           
“It just blows me away every time I think about it,” Jamie said. “It’s so simple, and yet so transforming. It was the only way the Lord could create a people for Himself, loving and obedient by their own choice. No robots needed or allowed!”
           
Sadie sat quietly, her heart pounding. It all sounded both familiar and totally new to her. On the one hand, it was pretty much what Ed had always told her. But on the other hand, Jamie’s harshness with her seemed to have opened a door somewhere deep inside, as if his explanation had finally reached beyond her brain and into her heart. If it was true—and she had to admit that it made some sort of crazy sense—then it changed everything.
           
“You’ve given me a great deal to consider, Jamie,” she said finally. “I need to spend some time thinking about it.”
           
She was uncomfortably aware that she was probably the only one in the room who hadn’t understood these things. But no one else seemed to mind; they were all smiling at her, and Elise came over to give her a big hug.
           
“I guess maybe it’s a bit of information overload, isn’t it?” Jamie pulled a couple of little brochures out of his briefcase. “Here are some tracts to help you digest it all—you can look up the verses they cite in your Bible, okay?”
           
​For the first time in her life, Sadie couldn’t wait to crack open the books.

--From The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 190-192

Remember when high cholesterol was Public Enemy #1?
 
Oh, that’s right, it still is. Unless you happen to be between the ages of 85 and 94. Because at that advanced age, you’ll actually be better off with high cholesterol, cognitively speaking.
 
That, at least, is what one new study is reporting.
 
It must be a good one, because it’s based on something called the “Framingham cohort.” (I don't have a clue what that is, but doesn't it sound impressive?)

Here’s what its authors discovered:
 
“Investigators found that cognitively intact people between the ages of 85 and 94 whose total cholesterol had increased from midlife had a 32% reduced risk for marked cognitive decline during the next decade, compared with individuals aged 75 to 84, who had a 50% increased risk.”
 
No word yet on whether we should toss the statin drugs and start pounding the eggs and butter when we hit 83.5. (Remember how eggs and butter used to be bad for us, but now they’re not? Perhaps this phenomenon is why they’ve now been given the green light. ) 
 
Nor is there any word on what happens to cholesterol-infused brains at age 95.
 
What’s more, we can’t predict what the next group of researchers will learn. As this current group reported, “an earlier study of the original Framingham cohort found no significant association between cholesterol and [Alzheimer’s disease].”
 
The best advice: Stay tuned.
 
And keep an eye out for a study that weighs that relative value of people suffering from cognitive decline, vs. those who retain all their marbles into great old age. Perhaps an enterprising future generation of researchers will find that, marbles or not, we all will die and head for eternities of unimaginable joy or suffering. Perhaps they’ll also realize that our ultimate destinations would be a far more worthy subject to investigate. This book might give them a head start on answering this most critical question.  

Not long ago, I met yet another committed atheist who informed me that God doesn't exist, and that death is followed by eternal nothingness. 

This woman was in her early 80s, which makes her position truly astounding to me. How can you be standing on the cusp of eternity and refuse to investigate what comes next? And there's no doubt that such folks are willfully ignorant; if they were to look with an open mind, they would change their tune in very short order, because the evidence for God's existence and the truth of the Bible is everywhere. 

Just take a gander at the old travel photo above. Even the most ardent atheist would have to agree that virtually everything in this frame was designed and manufactured via intelligent design on the part of human beings -- building, signs, flower boxes, VW bus, cobblestone street, clothing, accessories, and so on. And yet this same atheist would say that the living things in this snapshot -- the people and the plants -- are the products of random chance and vast ages, sparked when dead matter miraculously spawned life long, long ago.   
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To think that those who embrace such fairy tales also insist that Christians are "intellectually stunted" and "delusional." Absolutely mind-boggling.

Who says living in a nursing home has to be dull? In the novel bearing her name, Sadie Sparrow and her friends find life at The Hickories endlessly engaging – and sometimes quite mysterious, as this excerpt demonstrates.
 
 
Sadie and Gladys brunched together on Sunday, enjoying a feast of fresh strawberries and blackberries, French toast with maple syrup, bacon that was every bit as crisp as any Sadie had ever had, as much orange juice as they wanted, and coffee that tasted like something you’d get at a fancy cafe.
 
Gladys shocked Sadie by calling the meal “good” and then shocked her again by pointing out that Marcia at Table Nine was on “the thick stuff.”
 
“Do you mean thickened liquids?” Sadie was ashamed that she’d let that subject slip to the back burner in recent days, her new spiritual life and time with Jamie being foremost on her mind.
 
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Gladys sniffed, “although I don’t know why you always have to make everything so complicated. Pretending to be something you’re not.”
 
“‘Thick stuff’ is just fine with me,” Sadie said, humbled by the rebuke. “So how did you find out?”
 
One of Gladys’s nicer traits was her willingness to leave a hurt behind. “Before you got here, I heard her complaining about it to the servers. But they wouldn’t help her. I think it’s a crime.”
 
“A crime?”
 
“Without a doubt.” Gladys lowered her voice and glanced back over her shoulders to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “It kills people, you know. If you don’t get enough to drink, you get fuzzy headed and then you die. I’ve seen it happen again and again.”
 
Gladys had lived at The Hickories for several years, and Sadie didn’t doubt that she knew a lot more than she let on.
 
“Have any of your—have you known anyone who’s been on it?”
 
Gladys eyed Sadie up before answering. “My friends, you mean? Were you assuming I haven’t had any friends here?”
 
“No, of course not, I just meant—”
 
“I’ll have you know that I’ve had plenty of friends here. It’s just that they’ve all died or gone home.”
 
“Of course you have.” Sadie felt her face flush; she’d been caught red-handed. She quickly changed gears. “So have any of them been on the thick stuff?”
 
“Yes, and they’ve all died within weeks, except for one. Her name was Ida—she lived next door to me. She survived for two years on the stuff, finally had a coronary.”
 
“Well, then, if Ida made it that long, maybe it’s not so bad after all,” said Sadie, hoping for a silver lining.
 
Gladys looked around for eavesdroppers again. “It’s not so bad if someone is sneaking you water and soda every day,” she whispered. “I kept her supplied.”
 
“Why Gladys,” Sadie whispered back, impressed. “You really do have a heart, don’t you?”
 
Gladys glared at her. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”
 
--From The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 221-222