"It feels as if I'm stuck in a tunnel and can't find my way out. The pain is off the charts, and this darn medication isn't doing a thing." She rolled her head back and forth as she cried.
I merely held her hand when I visited, there wasn't anything I could do at the moment...it wasn't her time yet. All I could do was let her feel my unconditional love and keep her company in silence.
Mrs. Brown was ninety-six, paralyzed from a recent stroke, in stage four stomach cancer and miserable. She had lost her vision to macular degeneration two years earlier. She'd lived a full life. She had volunteered at a local orphanage on her days off from working as a nurse until she became incapacitated.
Mrs. Brown was eighty years old when she entered the nursing home, but continued to shine her light every single day in so many ways. She was an endless joy to all she encountered.
She loved children, but never married. Although she never had the opportunity to be a mother per se, she was "everyone's mom.” Selfless, and overly kind to anyone, even the most recalcitrant individual; she'd find a way to touch their souls.
White tendrils framed her worn face, her clouded eyes blinked slowly before she asked, "How much longer must I stay here? Please, I want to go home..."
I squeezed her hand gently to give reassurance that I was with her, all the way. I felt her pain and it was difficult for me to watch, but it never got easier as time marched on. No matter what I witnessed. I had just come from a little child's bedside that lost her battle with cancer. I held her hand just as I was holding Mrs. Brown's hand. The family was in agony, and all I could do was offer my love as a means of comfort. My presence gave them the strength to get through it. My tears fell as I felt the family's pain as they cradled their six year old child. No, it never was easy. Two nights ago I was at the side of a young lady who had been side swiped by a drunken driver, she died as I held her hand…her family never made it in time to say goodbye. My heart broke for the family. It’s so difficult to watch, each time more painful than the last.
"I've done all I can on this earth. Oh help me now; I'm in so much pain. Please..."
I watched as the nurse came in and took her vitals, and adjusted her morphine drip, it was to no avail, and it wouldn't be too much longer. I held her hand and rubbed her arm that was bruised, contorted, and frozen. She was a good woman, and a great lady of faith. She was a special person and made quite a powerful difference in so many lives. The moment is here, now is the time...
"I feel your warmth and I actually see a brilliant light! Yes, I see You! My sweet Jesus—you've come for me—Hallelujah!"
I smiled as I welcomed her home. She turned to quickly look at her lifeless old body, and then hugged me tightly. This was the best part, welcoming my servants’ home, the very best part of all...
We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:8 KJV)
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