She is in her room. Her room is really the only thing that she could call her own anymore and yet she has no reason to care if it is hers. When I first met her she was a fiesty ole gal, small and pretty - wheeling around looking for the breakfast that she just got done eating. In constant battle with the staff that in her mind are out to take all that she doesn't have... they put peanut butter on the bread that she will soon blame them for taking, and pour her coffee that she will say they didn't pour - it is a constant uphill battle sometimes. And yet, today she hasn't eaten much in over a week - her smallnes is even smaller (if that is possible). Laying in her bed facing the wall, her wedding and family pictures in the back ground. When I come in to the room I do it carefully, asking if I can sit with her she smiles at me and moves over patting the bed beside her. Sitting next to her I feel like a helpless giant... what can I do to help? She asks me to scratch her back. Taking the lotion from the shelf I pour it into my hands and rub it into her paper thin skin - my hands trace over her skin feeling the life that she lived. She smiles the whole time and thanks me... and says "you girls are so good to me!" - taking this moment I realize we are on our way down the hill now... it is easier and God is here. Take her hand Lord - and remember she likes peanut butter toast with her coffee!
(The names and dates have been changed the story is true only in my mind)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment