Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: WEAK (07/22/21)
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TITLE: Help Me, Jesus | Previous Challenge Entry
By Mariane Holbrook
07/29/21 -
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I was a volunteer at the center, with duties ranging from reading stories to lonely or restless patients to pushing a wheelchair-bound, double amputee veteran to the park where he could feed the birds he loved.
I loved my volunteer work. After retiring from a decades-long nursing job and losing my husband to Adenocarcinomas, a rare form of stomach cancer, I had time on my hands, so why not put it to good use?
As I entered the lobby that crisp autumn morning, I was greeted with outstretched arms, hugs and kisses, and feeble attempts to walk toward me. Their weakened conditions and unfavorable prognoses didn't deter them.
As I moved down the corridor, I entered the room of a bed-ridden lady I had come to love. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she asked, "Do you know how much I love you?"
"I'd rather have you tell me," I teased, which was my usual response to her.
"I love you like the apple of my eye like the Bible says," she answered, shaping her hands into the form of an apple. "I want to give you a present today. Will you go into my closet and look into the inside pocket of my navy blue jacket? There is a
small velvet bag in there which has my wedding and engagement ring in it. I want you to have it."
"You're very dear and I love you but you have two daughters and these rightly belong to them. There is also a rule in this nursing center that prohibits any of us
from accepting expensive gifts from the patients. That rule protects you. Why don't you give them to your daughters for safe-keeping or ask the director to put them in a safe place here for you?
She began to cry and I thanked her over and over for her generosity, holding her close to me. I noticed how much weaker she was than the last time I saw her, so a few days later when I received a call from the administrator that she had died, I was not surprised but, oh, how hard it hit me. We had often talked about the Lord Jesus and prayed together but regardless of her weakness, she always greeted me with a hug. I informed the administrator of the rings in her blue coat pocket, lest they be lost when her clothing was removed from the Nursing Center.
I usually spent one day a week at the Center and became acquainted with all of the patients. Most were welcoming and friendly but one woman named Marie was neither. I often sang hymns or well-known secular songs to the patients, inviting them to sing along with me. Marie icily informed me that she was "allergic to music" which was one reason she did not enjoy the Christmas season and preferred that I not sing in her room.
"At Christmas, many groups of school children come here to sing carols in every hall so I put pillows over my head because I hate the music with a passion," Marie explained. I wondered how she would endure heaven with its choirs of tens of thousands singing praises to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
In one of the rooms of the Nursing Centers, a former bookkeeper for a large corporation kept loudly repeating the number 24 over and over, all day long, every day. She didn't hear me when I talked or sang to her, and because of her weak heart, I wasn't permitted to take her outside in a wheelchair to enjoy the sunshine.
The room I always saved until last was occupied by a lovely lady who sat all day in her padded rocking chair by the window. Too weak to walk after falling and breaking her left leg in two places, she rested with her head on her knees, weeping.
"Dear Jesus, help me. Please take the pain away. I love you, Lord Jesus. Thank you for saving me. My pain is nothing like what you suffered for me on the cross but please, please help me."
I stood just outside her door crying. This saint of God was my mother.
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2 Corinthians 12:10 KJV
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