back in the saddle
I have wanted to blog but couldn't come up with anything except expressions of my shallow consumerism. But this happened today.
Setting: North Carolina Baptist Hospital/Wake Forest Medical Center, Winston-Salem, NC
I got on the elevator to ride to the 5th floor to see a church member in intensive care after having 3 heart valves replaced. I hear one is a big deal.
A man hesitates to get on the elevator at the main level, then, follows though. He is somewhat put-together, but I can tell he is frazzled too.
Man: 'What floor are you going to/'
Me: '5. You?'
Man: '6.'
a pause
Man: 'Will you ride up with me? Elevators make me nervous and I don't like to ride alone.'
Me: 'Sure, that will be no problem.'
Man then goes on to tell me that his wife should be dead but might make a recovery after almost bleeding out. They have almost got enough blood back in her.
I asked if there had been an accident, fully expecting to be able to go back and read about a terrible car accident in the local paper archives. He says she has crones and had a difficult surgery.
We have already arrived at the 6th floor, the elevator has gone into automatic close, like it or not, mode. I ask her name and promise to pray for her.
I am not sure of his name, her's is Susan, can't remember the last name. She is in a hospital bed, in Winston-Salem, with a scared husband by her side.
The weird thing is: to what am I due this honor of sharing in mans life? I don't deserve it. I didn't do any more than simply being polite with my basic elevator etiquette. Any one of you would have done the same.
I am privileged to wear a clergy badge when I am at the hospital. This gives me access to patients at most anytime both inside and outside of visiting hours. If it not simply something about me that people find easy to talk to, then it must have been the clergy badge. Maybe he has had good experiences with clergy in the hospital and found a trusted friend to ride the elevator with.
I am not sure, but I do wish the real world could be a little more like the elevator today. If I could wear a literal badge that let people know, 'I will listen, I am called to, and I like to.' Could that make faith in action a bit easier? Mostly though, those wearing the badges our world are the exact people who one would not want to talk to. I guess for now I will take my chances outside the hospital, but, I cherish the opportunity to put that badge on as I arrive at the parking garage, where I am officially allowed to be an 'an instrument of peace.' -St. Francis of Assisi
What floor you going to?
peace
a.
|
Setting: North Carolina Baptist Hospital/Wake Forest Medical Center, Winston-Salem, NC
I got on the elevator to ride to the 5th floor to see a church member in intensive care after having 3 heart valves replaced. I hear one is a big deal.
A man hesitates to get on the elevator at the main level, then, follows though. He is somewhat put-together, but I can tell he is frazzled too.
Man: 'What floor are you going to/'
Me: '5. You?'
Man: '6.'
a pause
Man: 'Will you ride up with me? Elevators make me nervous and I don't like to ride alone.'
Me: 'Sure, that will be no problem.'
Man then goes on to tell me that his wife should be dead but might make a recovery after almost bleeding out. They have almost got enough blood back in her.
I asked if there had been an accident, fully expecting to be able to go back and read about a terrible car accident in the local paper archives. He says she has crones and had a difficult surgery.
We have already arrived at the 6th floor, the elevator has gone into automatic close, like it or not, mode. I ask her name and promise to pray for her.
I am not sure of his name, her's is Susan, can't remember the last name. She is in a hospital bed, in Winston-Salem, with a scared husband by her side.
The weird thing is: to what am I due this honor of sharing in mans life? I don't deserve it. I didn't do any more than simply being polite with my basic elevator etiquette. Any one of you would have done the same.
I am privileged to wear a clergy badge when I am at the hospital. This gives me access to patients at most anytime both inside and outside of visiting hours. If it not simply something about me that people find easy to talk to, then it must have been the clergy badge. Maybe he has had good experiences with clergy in the hospital and found a trusted friend to ride the elevator with.
I am not sure, but I do wish the real world could be a little more like the elevator today. If I could wear a literal badge that let people know, 'I will listen, I am called to, and I like to.' Could that make faith in action a bit easier? Mostly though, those wearing the badges our world are the exact people who one would not want to talk to. I guess for now I will take my chances outside the hospital, but, I cherish the opportunity to put that badge on as I arrive at the parking garage, where I am officially allowed to be an 'an instrument of peace.' -St. Francis of Assisi
What floor you going to?
peace
a.
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