I took this picture the last time I saw my dear friend David. He was surrounded by his grandchildren, they were so bright and fresh, so engaging, so lovely. Everyone seemed to be enjoying each other. He went around the circle introducing everyone and at the end, he turned to me, then holding my hand, he announced to everyone,
"This... is my friend!!" I felt so proud in that moment and so very blessed to know this sweet man.
I don't remember when I met him, maybe it was in the chapel during Mass. I had grown to love the words of the liturgy, but more than anything else, I loved the man from the Philippines who sat in the back in a wheelchair. His deeply resonating voice had grown louder every day due to his deafness, it could be heard above others who repeated the Mass, known since childhood, in a rote manner. But David would linger on phrases, saying them with great feeling as the kindly Father Meyers waited. I so loved that, the patient priest and the old man in the wheelchair, for I knew David felt each word deeply, just as I did
For years as I entered the nursing home's front entrance, there sat David with a greeting for all. He was smart and articulate and could carry on a conversation about anything from a world crisis to his pondering why teen girls would make a pregnancy pact. "Where were their parents?" he would say. I always loved his thinning hair that stood up in a "butch" style. His parting words were always the same,a blessing given to thousands over the years,
"Have a good day (or evening) May the good LORD bless and guide you!" And my response was always the same too. "Thank you!! He does David, He does!!" It was a ritual we had, and continued long after he stopped hearing well
David and I spoke often, he was such an encouragement, so appreciative for the moments we chatted. I found him to be a man of honor and great faith. He told me how he had grown up in the Philippines and had attended a mission school. He told funny stories about his classmates, about a girl he loved there but how he would later find the love of his life. One afternoon he sang me a song, I watched as he lifted his good hand in front of him, that was strange I thought. Then it occurred to me that he was raising his hand in praise as a choir boy would but the paralyzed hand just wouldn't meet it's partner. That did not deter him as he sang his childhood song;
"Praise Him! Praise Him, all ye little children, God is Love, God is Love..." Oh I loved it!! People looking from every direction enjoyed it too. Then I sang him the song about the shepherd boy David who slayed the giant Goliath. We talked about his job with IBM, golf, working in Manhattan and teaching at a University. He said they promised to keep his position after he had his stroke, and lately he had been thinking about taking them up on that offer. I told him I thought he should consider that, the students would love him.
He reminded me, though sharing the same name as the great Old Testament King, he had never dishonored his wife, who had died many years before. No one would ever say he acted inappropriately with any woman or staff in the nursing home. Then with a wink he added,
"I think she watches me." how we laughed about that!
One weekend morning I found him in the chapel, sitting in his wheelchair with his head hanging low. I slipped over and knelt down beside him.
"David, are you sad?" Strangely he heard me.
"Yes" he spoke slowly and deliberately. "I am wondering, all these years, why am I here. I always believed God brought me here to encourage and help others, even with my stroke ...but I wonder now" His head dropped lower as we grasped each others hands.
"Oh David, if only knew what your life means to so many" but I was crying now with no words of comfort, "David, can we pray together?" he nodded yes.
So I prayed not caring or knowing if David could hear or understand. My heart was breaking with sadness so I poured it out on the Savior who welcomes us. I told Him that I had seen His very face in this man, His child, a man with a broken body, sitting in diapers and his breakfast on his shirt. I told God David had been such a blessing to so many, I spoke of David's caring kindness, his smiles and blessings, how he was a light in a sometimes a dark place where people live out their lives, where staff have their own struggles, where people's dreams end. And in the midst, David was there, a missionary like the ones who taught him the praise song, always the same, a constant blessing to oh so many.. And then I just asked the LORD to show David how important he is, how valued he is and what an instrument of love and grace David had been, especially to me. I think God knew it all anyway but it was a good reminder that even the encourager need encouraging. And best of all I knew He'd come to David, prayer or no prayer.
I didn't know when he died, I just saw the paper on the bulletin board inviting everyone to his Celebration of Life. It was week old when I saw it, but I will always celebrate my friend David's life. I miss him. But for now...
Have a good day and may the good LORD bless and guide you!!
July 11, 2010
July 5, 2010
I was not happy to be riding the "bad bus" vs the "good bus" ...with valid reasons of course. Remember this? http://marmiesmusings.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-boy.html But the ride on the 38 never fails to bring me into some kind of reality about life. On a crowded bus we have to look at each others faces and literally rub against one another, like it or not. There are mean people, kind people, funny people, and always people to remind you of things you have forgotten.
I heard the infant crying, a brand new baby I thought. I turned to see the man gently lift the baby from the carrier to his shoulder. Usually people just juggle those ugly carriers in an effort to quiet a screaming baby, but not this man, he was deliberate and caring. The child quieted after a few simple pats on the back. The man looked weary as he spoke in Creole to a child seated next to him, she was so tiny I could barely see the top of her head. As the bus emptied I waited and asked if I could help, he nodded in relief as I cautiously took the child's hand. She was unsure of me so I reached in my bag for the little Cabbage Patch doll I had stashed there for just the right time. It sits next to a matchbox car in the bag I carry every day. You just never know. With a nod from dad she took it in her hand, that tiny little doll my own little girls held.
Once settled on the train he tells me his story. For three weeks his wife complained of pain, twice he took her back to be checked, but they sent her away. She became very sick and they finally kept her at the hospital. He visited once, but he hadn't been able to reach her for several days and he was concerned. With no phone of his own a friend named Billy is kind enough to make or take a call for him. His two older boys are in a daycare, so he is going to the hospital with the two little ones to find his wife and see if she is okay. It's difficult with a newborn and a 2 year old to travel from Florida City to downtown on the bus, but he manages, and he's grateful to ride the 38.
He has done all kinds of jobs, he explains but he's out of work right now with times being harder. "It's difficult" I say, he nods. I have no cash, but he's not asking for help. Baby Christopher is content, and resting but I'm sure his mother is wondering about him. Gabby, looks up at me, her face is so angelic, wondering who I am. Little barretts hang on the end of her braids, two pink plastic flowers that sway as she walks. The rest if her hair is braided close to her head, the braids are getting nappy now, her mom isn't there to braid her hair, and dad can do only so much.the child sits quietly on my lap as her father speaks over the rumble of the train.
I hate to say good-bye as the train pulls into Government Center, the man thanks me profusely and assures me he will be fine. I wonder about him all day and into the weekend. Is the wife okay? Do they have enough to eat? Formula is so expensive! No, the kids have Medicaid and WIC for the baby, that's something. Will someone braid Gabby's hair? Who do we know who can give him a job? Surely we can give him some yard work and I could help with the kids
Everyday I see abused and neglected children but today I am reminded there are lots of people out there going through hard times, they are not doing drugs or neglecting their kids, they are just poor and need a helping hand, even if they do not ask. I search all over for the post-it with Billy's name and number on it...but is GONE!!! Nowhere to be found! Usually I loose things and just roll with it, like loosing my keys, forgetting my ID and having to fly without it, leaving my phone at work. I loose everything! Just as our meeting was providential, maybe loosing that small paper is too. But I am just so mad, so darn mad at myself. God please send someone to help them!
The child takes the otoscope from the doctor's set and announces she was going to check my ear.
ME - Okay, I was just thinking I needed my ear checked (as she moves forward I wonder whose ear it had been in last, but I cannot resist this cheeky little four year old.)
HER - Hmmm.........(she was so contempaltive)
ME - What do you see in there?
HER - I see a princess, a beautiful princess!
ME - Really? I am so happy! (I don't know how having a little girl tell you you have a princess in your ear can transform you but it does! )
Her baby brother is being checked out by the nurse, but the little girl is a busy bee checking out all the toys in our medical office, like she belonged there. She is bright, confident and oh so cute. Two minutes you will fall in love with her. Her mother who is there for a visit, steps in to speak to the nurse and proudly announces she is a former client "Really?" I say. She was a foster child in our residential home, and now her little ones have come into care too, that is by far, the saddest of thoughts. Regardless of the reasons as to why her children are in foster care, she asks numerous questions about her baby son health and make demands any good mother would make. She's their mom and we don't forget that, nor do we judge her. She has to say good-bye to her children after 2 hours. She passes off the baby but the little girl hangs on her leg;
HER - "No, no!! I want to go with you!!" She's screaming uncontrolably. I am sad for them
MOM - "No! You go with them, I have to go to school. You can't come with me! Go!" She is strong but not mean, she knows the routine.
After that, I see the little girl as I pass the visitation room. She's funny and charming and always says she's going home with her mom, wailing at the end of every visit. That is not unusual for children in care but this little one has a flair for drama. This time the worker kindly tells her they are going downstairs where people are working and she cannot make all that noise. She instantly stops crying and says, "Okay." My granddaughter can do the same thing, she just stops crying when it isn't working for her anymore.
They stop by the medical office and she want to check my ear again
ME - What do you see in there today?
HER - Hmmmm............
ME - A princess?
HER - No.............I see a dragon
ME - A dragon?!!?
HER. - Yes a dragon, but he's just eating grass
I don't know what it all means but I will never forget her and pray she goes home with mom and has a good life. Me??! The princess and grass-eating dragon really works for me!