Ever since my two great-aunts spoiled me rotten as a child, I've had a soft spot in my heart for senior citizens. Aunts Rite (for Marguerite) and Bess were my own personal fairy godmothers. They delighted in taking me shopping every year for an unasked-for-but-much-needed new dress. They quietly slipped me a whole half-dollar when my younger sisters received only quarters. Aunt Bess shamelessly doted on me, marveling that at age 4, I loved jigsaw puzzles. My favorite was a 500-piece beauty showing a massive blue whale breaching in a white-capped sea. I spent many happy hours with Aunt Bess patiently fitting those lovely pieces together.

As an oldest and somewhat hyper-responsible girl-child, I must have needed their coddling. Anyway, that's what I tell myself today. (It helps with the guilt.) My great-aunts never married (though both had beaux) and held good jobs working in retail back in the day when locally owned department stores could still prosper. Since their sister, my mom's mother, died when Mom was 11, my sisters and I became surrogate grandchildren. With our parents, we regularly visited on weekends and holidays enjoying sumptuous home-cooked dinners lovingly prepared by Aunt Rite.

It broke my heart when Aunt Bess died in a nursing home three years after contracting Alzheimer's disease. I was 22, a registered nurse, and wondered what was up with this death thing anyway? A year later, I nursed Aunt Rite after surgery for what turned out to be ovarian cancer. I stayed with her for two nights at the hospital before departing for graduate school. When I went in to say goodbye, she looked at me with her steady blue eyes and imparted this succinct bit of advice: "Always stay true to your religion, kid."

I quickly (too quickly) responded: "You'll see me again Aunt Rite, I'll be home for Thanksgiving." She shook her head and didn't reply. Although the doctors had said death was months away, Aunt Rite joined Aunt Bess in heaven just three days later.

Because I had these really great great-aunts, I always enjoyed working with "the elderly" in my nursing career and thereafter. I admired their kindly wisdom and secretly envied such steady patience in the face of adversity.

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So I was intrigued to learn about a retired nurse's creative at-home spiritual companioning outreach to seniors. The Living Room Retreats project is the brainchild of Joanne Sheldon, a former hospice nurse educator. Working in hospice, Joanne frequently observed an unfolding spiritual component that she believes her clients didn't always know how to articulate.

"Noticing that spiritual component led me to recognize that elders -- not just the dying -- had similar needs," she said. Without knowing of her interest, Joanne's boss forwarded a serendipitous email she had received about the Ignatian Spirituality Institute at John Carroll University. Just a year away from retirement, Joanne decided to enroll in the two-year certificate program.

After completing her training, Joanne provided spiritual services to the Ignatian Volunteer Corps, a program designed for active folks 55 and over. "But then I got to thinking," she said. "There are lots of elderly people who are used to going to parish missions for Lent and can't get out anymore."

After talking it over with her pastor, Joanne placed a notice in her parish bulletin offering the Living Room Retreats to anyone who wished to participate during the six weeks of Lent.

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At-home retreat brings Scripture, spirituality to seniors