The Voice of an Angel (another moment)

I first met him about a year ago. He is dressed neatly, walking towards me, very handsome, muscle running around every bone, chiseled to a fine form. He is maybe around 78 - I actually am not sure, but, I do know that his only living relative is a daughter and she is about 60. I love to stop by and say hello to him. He is a quiet man and tells me he loves this time he has been given. It has allowed him to slow down and now he can read more. When I ask him what he likes to read (thinking I can pick him up some books of his choice), he tell me that he reads the Bible. There is enough information in there and he is sorry but he never had the time to read it before. It is so rich in knowledge wisdom and hope. By his commercial bed stand and twin bed lays a beautiful Bible.
When I stop by next he is sitting in a wheel-chair, the treatments are making him weak but he believes they are shrinking the tumor that has pushed against his eye, causing blurred vision. He has a beautiful voice that offers strength for the day even though I feel rushed inside I want to sit here forever. He is reading from the only book he needs.

Months have passed and I find him laying in his bed. I ask him if he would like me to put some lotion on his back. I can tell he has lost weight but the handsome man he was shows through and I can see him looking back at me. He thanks me so much for stopping by and tells me to wake him up if he is sleeping.

Yesterday I went into his room. The color of cancer shows on his sleeping face. I gently say his name and ask him if he would like me to put some lotion on his back. He smiles at me and takes the energy he has stored while sleeping to turn to his side. I put the lotion into my hands and rub them together so the coldness sinks into me and when I go to touch the lotion to his skin - the muscle which defined his body is gone, and the bone that keeps his skin in place is next to my touch. I put on lots of lotion and he tells me "my skin is so dry, I don't know what it is, that feels so good, there isn't alot of energy for me to talk, my voice is so dry, I am so weak."

I tell him not to worry, just relax. Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable in the silence and yet I don't want to talk so he feels like he has to talk with me. In the moment of silence the words come to me in the form of a song. I sing to him for what seems like along time. When I leave he is sleeping and yet he says thank-you.

Today he is being pushed in a wheel-chair towards me. He reaches out his hand to me and says "this is the lady who sang to me yesterday, she has such a beautiful voice, it was so beautiful." I smile and touch his hand. (no one has ever told me I have a beautiful voice)

... and when I think about it - I know in my heart that it was not my voice singing to him. It was the voice of many angels bringing comfort to him as he lay in the weakness of life - looking forward to the promises of the Bible that he finally had time to relax and read.

And I lift my eyes to the Heavens and thank the Lord for these moments.


This story is a figment of my imagination. If it sounds like I am writing about someone you know - maybe it is. Take the time to be with those needing your help and love, take the time to let God use your voice to bring comfort to the hurting.