They come to this place to have their broken parts fixed and the people I work with work hard. They care, they really do. But when the fixing needs a little nudge or there is no fixing to be done, they come and get me.
That’s how I end up sitting at his bedside: They told him there was nothing left that they could do.
I’d met him before—in his sleep. We couldn’t get him to awaken so I sat with his family in the dim light with rain pattering the window. They told me who he is—who he was…what he likes to do…Who he loves. They told me how fast this has all happened.
He’s a tall man but his proud frame has wasted into a smallish one. The top of his head is fuzzy with new-growing hair. He keeps rubbing it when he talks to me. No longer asleep, he looks me in the eye. He can’t always find the words; his mind a bit fuzzy. But when he can’t get it out, he just looks at me with a vague smile and points up.
I smile back. With watery eyes. Because I know exactly what he’s talking about.
His family is quiet and he keeps reaching for his wife’s hand. The air flows gentle in this place. I ask because I can’t help myself and he smiles again. We pray together. I hold his hand and it is strong and tender. His voice is sure as he leads this familiar conversation. When he is finished, he tells me that he will see me again one day.
We will be dancing with joy, he says.
Will you save me a dance? I ask.
Yes, he says. I will.
And when I walk away, I leave something real with him. And I carry something real with me.
Hope is something we hold in our hands.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him.
The Playdates button: