When we are asked to serve...

  In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”   Acts 20:35

This came to my mind when I was asked to help sit with Sheriff without a Badge's mother who had a massive stroke this week and was just moved from ICU.  I met this lady when I was a mere child of 14 and my sister introduced our family to her friend, who would later become her future husband.

Now she is 80 and it was the day for her standing weekly hair appointment of which she still drove herself to.  Her husband, 81, heard her say "Oh" and went into the bedroom and there she lay from a fall, unable to move or talk.  A call to 911 and she was transported to the local ER and was given a miracle shot, one that 4 days later even have the doctors amazed at her ability to move and respond to requests. 

She still has not been able to speak a coherent word but smiles when her son tells a joke or cries when the phone is held to her ear and a beloved family member from her home state says a few soothing words across the miles.

I had the pleasure/honor of sitting with her yesterday and knitting there instead of at home.

She is a fiercely independent woman still maintaining her spotless home and putting three meals on the table at the same time each day.  She is a woman from the earlier generation of helping to "bring home the bacon and cooking it too".  Still gets dressed up plus hair just right and makeup in place every day.  She was always a very kind, loving woman but I never remember her being a touchy freely person.  I went on trips to her beloved home state with her as a teenager, I spent many nights at her home - treated like the daughter she never had.

Nothing, NOTHING prepared me for who I saw when I opened the door to that hospital room!  

I think she must be thinking why are all these people seeing me like this - confused,  bruised and I mean bruised horribly from the fall, in a hospital gown that takes away any persons' dignity, what happened to my hair, my makeup and where are my teeth.  She is a tiny woman and she does not have the strength to pull that horrible gown up over her tiny shoulders.  

I immediately talk to her like I normally would - helping her to cover her shoulders and did something I have never done - I reached out to touch her - I stroked her hair and instead of the pulling away that I would have expected from this lady that was not one to cuddle, she pushed her head into my hand and a soft moan escaped her lips.  Two tears streamed out of the sides of her eyes and she did not pull away.  She pushed her head further into my hand.  I spent many hours with her yesterday, talking, stroking her hair until she would slip back into a soft sleep and talking. 

In the blink of an eye this woman and her family's lives changed.  No warning but changed for how long no one knows.  She was approved to move to Rehab yesterday.  Two weeks of rehab and then they expect her to be changed enough to go home or if recovery is not as expected than it will be a nursing home.

It is true that statement, 'we never know'.