I spoke in church briefly today about a man from a local ward (congregation in Mormon speak), not ours but the next one over, whose volunteer assignment is to offer the Sacrament on the Sabbath to members of our church who are hospitalized at Stanford.
And thus a month ago he found himself with a list of names and room numbers in hand, walking into my room for the fourth time this year, where, there I was, IV and all all over again. He exclaimed, It’s YOU! How ARE you!
Much better as of right now, and thanks.
Such a simple act: kneeling by my bedside. The heartfelt prayer. A little bread. The second prayer. A little water.
Such a powerful act: coming to one who cannot come to you. Declaring by how he lives that there are no strangers now, only friends. Being with another in their extremity, completely present for them in the moment, offering a shared faith in the light and love of God that surpasses all such circumstances. He brought to me, in his own way and fulfilling his own part, a healing.
Looking back at all that I went through this past year, I said today, the pain simply falls away: all that is left is the moments of light. The love. God’s. His. The doctors’. The nurses’. Every person who cared. It is made so visible by their choices in those circumstances.
I still don’t remember that man’s name. But I will always know that warm smile.