Late
one afternoon, a hospital nurse spotted a tall, uniformed fellow entering the
facility’s automatic doors. We call them
‘the magic doors’ here at West End, but you know what I mean. She grabbed his sleeve and said “Oh, I’m so
glad you’re here. Your dad has been
asking for you, and he’s not doing well at all.”
Turning
on his polished heels, he entered the room, sat down in the bedside chair, took
the old man’s hand and leaned over to his ear.
“It’s okay, Dad, I’m here.” A
weak smile, but relaxation at last washed over him like a much anticipated
tide, sweeping away the fear and anxiety.
“Would you like me to read you a psalm?”
A nod. You could touch the peace
that passed understanding in that sterile hospital room that afternoon.
A
couple of hours later, the serviceman walked up to the nurses’ station. “I think your patient has passed away,” he
said.
The
nurse reached out for his sleeve again. “I’m
so sorry about your father,” she said with much compassion.
“That
wasn’t my father,” the serviceman explained.
“But he needed his son at that moment, and I could be that for him.”
Wow. I was blown away by that story. There was a need, and one of God’s beloveds
met it. I wonder about the fella’s
sacrifice—where was he originally going?
Would whomever he was supposed to meet understand? Could I have done the same, or would I feel
obligated to explain to the nurse that it wasn’t my father from the
get-go? I’m not sure. There are lots of what-ifs that could have happened otherwise.
I am sure that we are given chances to meet the needs of others all the
time. Sometimes it’s not much of a cost
to us. Sometimes it’s just a listening
ear. Sometimes it’s holding a hand,
sitting, sometimes it’s just a matter of time.
Literally.
Some
things can wait. And some things need
attention now. May God grant us the
wisdom to know the difference, to make a difference. For one soul at a time.
Grace and joy,
Julie
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