Early in the morning the Preacher received the family's call. The woman who called wanted to let the Preacher know that her mother-in-law was on her death bed and was asking for prayers for her husband's family. Death would be coming at any time. The Preacher told me that we must go to see this family, to be with them in their time of need.
The nursing home, where the family was waiting, was not very far from our town. I told the Preacher that I would drive him and when we arrived that I would stay in the car and read a book and wait on him.
You see, I don't do well in nursing homes, especially when the person is in a bad way. I blame this on my mother. If she couldn't find a babysitter she would take us to the nursing home where she worked. She would leave us in the common living room with all of the 'old people'. To a young girl these people were scary. The people were sitting in their wheelchairs, some strapped in, were sleeping with mouths wide open, some would be yelling or screaming at nothing and others would drool getting their shirts soaking wet. Watching this was a very scary experience!
The Preacher and I arrived at the nursing home. I tell him again that I will stay in the car and wait. He says to me, "No, come in and say hello to the family." We were greeted by the family who were sitting in the common living room. After we exchanged "how are you's", we were escorted into the mother's room. More family members were surrounding her bed. The mother asleep, mouth wide open, trying to grasp this life's final breaths.
Me, I'm looking for a way out of the room, but the Preacher, he takes a seat right next to the sleeping mother and begins rubbing her shoulder ever so tenderly. Then he begins to ask the family questions about their mother. Questions like – how many children did she have, where did she grow up, where did she attend church, what did she like to do. All of the children began to tell stories of their mother and they began to show us pictures and some paintings that she had painted herself years ago. Their eyes brightened as they went back to a place of remembering.
The Preacher asked if he could say a prayer for the family before we left them. We all bowed our heads but the Preacher reached over and spoke the prayer words directly into the mother's ear.
The family thanked us for coming and we left to go about our day of living. Later that evening we heard that the mother, in the afternoon hours of that day, had taken her last breath and left this world to suffer no more.
I began to think of how wonderful this man is, the Preacher. He too is not crazy about these types of visits, but unlike me, he doesn't look for a way out. He walks head on into the dark waters of fear. He is compassionate. He loves people and that love overtakes any uneasiness that he may feel.
I envy this. This love. This Jesus kind of love. I do pray that someday, I too, will be able to put behind my fears so that I can walk head on in and love like this.
Love from the Preacher and I
No comments:
Post a Comment