My kids took all my money

Marc and I have new callings that take us to the Beehive Homes in American Fork several times a week. (He's the 1st counselor in the Branch presidency and that makes me the 1st counselor in the Relief Society.)
So we were in one of the sister's rooms the other night trying to help her reconcile her new situation.
She'd only been admitted a couple of weeks earlier and she was starting to panic.
Now, the Beehive Homes are clean and well-run and the people there seem to be well cared for.
We don't have major concerns about their well-being.
But there are a number of residents unhappy, a couple who are quite angry, about being there.
They want to be in their own homes.
They want their former lives back.
The lady we were working with on this particular night was agitated.
"I'm not sick," she cried. "Why am I here?"
As we tried to soothe her, she despaired.
"My kids took all my money and my car," she said with slumping shoulders. "I can't go anywhere."
I couldn't help but think that my father is probably saying the same things to people who visit him in the Legacy Retirement Center.
I know he believes if we just put a key back in his hand, he could be out cruising the freeway. He could be king once more.
He even says, once in a while, "I would go to (...this or that event...) but I don't have a car."
It's sad and I sympathize.
I listen to the residents we're working with and I feel their frustration.
They really don't understand what's happened, where everybody went and when they're coming back.
The same lady we were talking with wanted to know on Sunday what would happen next?
"Is that it? Do we all just sit here now and watch TV?" she demanded to know.
"Yeah, pretty much," I told her as we gathered our hymn books and purses to leave after our sacrament meeting.
I felt for her. She seems fully aware and physically capable of living on her own.
I was thinking I'd break her out if I could if I could think where to take her...
This was just before she asked me, "Are you LDS?"