WHAT’S AMAZING. . .is
I never met her before. . .didn’t and still don’t know her name.
I don’t know how old she was then or is now. . .or if she’s even alive. . .
I don’t know where she lives, if she ever got married, had children, became a Teacher, Preacher, RN, Social Worker, Whopper Flopper, homeless or a host of other countless possibilities. . .
WHAT’S AMAZING. . . is
What I do know is that in less than 15 minutes, she dramatically changed my life. . .
F O R E V E R
just by looking at life in two blink of the eyes
d i f f e r e n t l y
Our son was very sick. He began projectile vomiting on my Birthday, August 6, 1990 and THEY said he had a wondering spleen that had knotted up and had become defunct—useless.
He was so sick. . .
We were so scared. . .
There were many tests. . .
There were many Specialists. . .
There were many appointments and more appointments and even more interventions. . .
We were in a waiting room one afternoon, waiting for yet another test and a special x-ray
AND THERE SHE WAS. . .the Life-Changer
Truth?
I haven’t thought of her in some 25 years. . .really since that day we never actually met. . .
. . .until this past Tuesday when I was talking to an insurance representative turned Barber who said that he was still haunted by what he saw when he would walk through a Children’s Cancer Ward at Rainbow Babies University Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio
He said he still wakes up sometimes and questions the WHY, HOW-COME, WHAT-FOR of it all. . .
And as he was talking, S H E came back to my memory, my once-upon-a time, my powerful, Remember-When…
SHE was there that day in the waiting room.
SHE had on a hospital gown on, a makeshift bandana, an old, what looked like to be, favorite white-tattered sweater.
S H E was crying. . .not sobbing, not screaming, not wailing, no gnashing of teeth, just crying as she said, not yelling out loudly, but softly:
“Please, Mom, I don’t want to do it; Please Mom, I don’t want to do it; Please Mom, I don’t want to do it; Please Mom, I don’t want to do it; Please Mom, I don’t want to do it. . . .”
Mom spoke only with her actions.
Her eyes were red and tired looking and her hair was not prettily combed and make up couldn’t cover what her heart was shouting and her mouth couldn’t whisper. . .but her arm around her daughter, holding her close as she cried, couldn’t deny that
healing medicine. . .
L O V E
that she was giving her daughter in a highly overdosing manner.
Our son was sleeping. . .he was exhausted from crying as he was being poked, prodded and now getting a slight reprieve before the next session.
The Nurse didn’t say a word when she came to the door way.
S H E didn’t say a word. . .she left the safety of her mother’s arm and just walked away from her to follow the nurse through the door to a place she didn’t want to go. . .but went anyway
WHAT’S AMAZING. . .is
n o t
what we remember, is it. . .?
It’s that we actually DO remember it. . . .
Out of all of the How Come’s
Out of all of the What For’s
Out of all of the Why’s
That we Remember
That IT means something
(even after some 25 years)
is amazing
Two sick kids were in a waiting room one August afternoon
One was crying. . .one was exhausted from crying too much
B O T H
needed love–the perfect healer
B O T H
gave much more
WHAT’S AMAZING. . .is
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