Tag Archives: comfort

Sue and Sophie, Caregivers

18 Tuesday Apr 2023

Posted by in Therapy Animals

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Sue was an ICU nurse in one of our outlying hospitals and was critically injured in a horrible automobile accident. The ICU that had been her workplace became where she lay as a patient.

The prognosis for Sue was poor. She might not make it. Her fellow nurses thought Sue should be allowed to see the one family member she had – a little long-haired chihuahua named Sophie. It was the 1990s, and hospital policies didn’t allow animals in, not even pets of terminally ill patients. Yet somehow, these very determined nurses and friends arranged for an exception.  

Sophie was brought in and laid against Sue, who was unconscious. Sophie, a model of good behavior, was permitted to snuggle for quite a while. After the visit, and for the first time, things began to turn around for Sue in a positive way. She began to show improvements.

Being reunited with Sophie had made a difference. I know this was how it happened because Sue told me. She knew her companion was there with her, loving her, needing her, and it put in Sue the will to live.

Sue made a commitment in those long days of recovery that once she was well enough, she was going to have Sophie trained to be a therapy dog. Sue wanted to be able to give others what she had been given.

Sue stayed true to that goal and Sophie became a certified therapy dog. They visited nursing homes and other facilities where therapy dogs were allowed.

Sue called and asked if she and Sophie might come for a visit to the parent hospital where I worked. The hope was to begin the change of system policy and allow therapy dogs in our hospitals. We set a time and Sue and Sophie drove for three hours to try and make a difference for patients through animal therapy.

We paid a visit to the vice president of nursing and Sue worked Sophie through obedience tests. She responded without hesitation to Sue’s every command. The convincing test I suppose was that she paid no heed to treats laid right beneath her nose until Sue gave her the signal that it was okay. Sophie proved herself trustworthy and we were given permission to visit a cancer patient who was missing her dog terribly.

Sophie regally walked the hall to the cancer care unit. She knew who she was. She wore her therapy dog tag with pride and held her head high. She paid no mind to those she passed by and wondered what a dog was doing in our hospital. Sophie looked straight ahead, headed toward her mission.

Arriving at her point of caregiving, Sophie was given the go-ahead to get up on the bed. Our patient crooned and loved on Sophie. Tears came to the patient’s eyes. It wasn’t her dog she got to see, but it was the next best thing. Sophie gave our patient comfort and emotional support. Her medicine was attention and affection. Just like she had given Sue, Sophie that day gave our patient hope for a brighter tomorrow.

I am pretty certain Sophie’s visit was the best medicine our patient received that day — maybe that week. She thanked Sophie and Sue repeatedly for coming.

I wish I could say we immediately wrote a policy for animal therapy. That didn’t happen. It takes time and patience and many departments to turn a hospital ship around. But it was a beginning. It definitely made a difference for our pet-lonely patient. It made a difference for Sue as a nurse to push the boundaries a little further on behalf of emotional support for patients. It made a difference for Sophie. Animals always know when they are loved and appreciated. Sophie knew from her training that she was contributing to patient care.

Martin Buber said, “An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.” Once you’ve had an animal as a companion, you understand this truth. I would add it’s also about their touch. Their eyes and their touch speak love. They somehow know just what we need. Sophie knew. Sophie gave.

So God created. . .every living creature that moves. And God saw that it was good. –Genesis 1:21 ESV

You care for people and animals alike, O LORD. –Psalm 36:6

Note: Therapy dogs and service dogs are not the same. Here are some links for further understanding.

https://www.mayoclinichealthsystem.org/hometown-health/transforming-health-care/wagging-tail-and-puppy-eyes-bring-comfort

https://midtowners.webs.com/therapydogs.htm

Calls to Serve

10 Thursday Nov 2022

Posted by in Christian service

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My last blog, posted October 25, was on obeying God’s direction to serve even when we don’t understand. You might want to read When We Have an Assignment to Serve before reading this one.

Some assignments are so clear, you simply cannot miss them. Others may be subtle little nudges that can go easily unnoticed. They seem small, happen quickly, and are easily passed by.

I email daily prayer needs to our church family. As I was preparing an email Tuesday of this week, it occurred to me that I should do a little more than I was doing. I should close out the email with scriptures relative to the needs. I added one for healing and another for comfort.

Early that evening I received a call from someone who receives my emails. She began with I’ve had a miracle happen! She has a chronic disease that sometimes flares and causes a great deal of pain. She had been out for the day when it hit and she rushed home, not knowing where this flare was taking her. She sat on the side of her bed, growing weaker and pain progressing. She was trying to decide whether she should go to the emergency room. She reached over for her cell phone and scrolled through emails and pulled up the prayer list for the day. Her eyes fell on the healing scripture below the names and needs and she read it aloud: LORD, my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me (Psalms 30:2). Immediately the pain left. Completely. She felt new strength coursing through her body. She said to me, I promise you, that is exactly how it happened. I called out for help using that scripture and I was instantly healed!

This is what I mean by listening for our assignments. Only God knew that something as simple as a scripture added to my email would be exactly what someone was going to need later in the day. Only He knew that it would become someone’s personal prayer.

This was a whisper of the Holy Spirit that I could have easily ignored and never thought about again. I confess I didn’t think about it being God’s voice at the time. But you see, He is always talking to us and we have to realize and honor that. If it is in our mind to do something and it lines up with scripture, then we can count on it being from God.

I think I know what led me to this particular assignment. I had awakened that morning with the sad memory of a physician friend who had taken his life. He was an exceptionally compassionate physician. I never knew another quite like him. Always available, always patient, always deeply caring. A treatment he had given a patient resulted in her death and he was never able to emotionally recover. What cut me the deepest as I remembered was that in all our conversations, we never talked about faith and eternal life.

So, this week I have reminded myself that the time to witness is NOW. I urge you, that if you see an opportunity, and feel a nudge to do something that witnesses and brings glory to God, go forward and do that thing. NOW.

Heed instruction and be wise. And do not neglect it. –Proverbs 8:33

The Lord will guide you always. –Isaiah 58:11

Perspective on Life from Hospital Days

24 Thursday Mar 2022

Posted by in healthcare stories

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Hospitals know a lot of heartaches. An illness brings someone in, but that person comes with all their problems and they should never be under-estimated in their journey of healing. During my years as a patient advocate, I came to know a lot of wonderful people and a lot of their heartaches.

The very first patient I ever dealt with was a teenager battling a rare disease. It wasn’t thought he would recover, but he did. After being home a while and getting back on his feet, he fell in with a wrong group and was killed as a result of association. When his dad came to tell me, I found it hard to take in. This young man who had won the battle of disease, only to have his life end in senseless tragedy – how could it be? How did his parents manage their grief so soon after being on a mountaintop of joy?

There was an elderly woman who was with us one December and it was uncertain as to whether she would be staying through Christmas Day. Most patients wanted badly to be out and home for Christmas, but this dear lady preferred staying. She said she would rather be in a hospital with people around her than go home and be alone.

I think about another elderly and gentle woman. She confided in a nurse that she knew her children were taking things from her house while she was hospitalized. They were using her absence and access to her house keys to take what they wanted. How can children do that? Social Service was called, but intervention didn’t take away the sadness of such abuse nor the pain that mother’s heart knew.

There was a delightful man who did his best to make every day positive in some way, all the while knowing he was dying and would probably not leave the hospital. He called for his grandchildren to come so that he could talk to them about how needless his early death was, that he was dying because he had abused his body, and wanted to impress upon them their opportunity to live life better. He gave his speech and then went back to bringing laughter into the room. What a brave individual!

I recall the many families who were torn apart by end-of-life decisions. Spouses and children couldn’t agree on when it was time to let their loved one go, even when the patient had made personal wishes clear to the family. Sometimes it was a spouse who held on, other times it was the children. Before the day of the Patient Self-Determination Act that gave us the Living Will and Durable Power of Attorney, it could be an especially tough issue to resolve. Just when families needed to pull together, impending death often brought family discord and added anguish.

There was a very loving wife who delayed bringing in her husband’s Living Will because she wasn’t ready to give him up. They had been married more than 50 years and she thought she would rather take him home and care for him like an infant rather than lose him forever. After taking some time to work it through – weighing what she knew he wanted against her heartache in giving him up – she did eventually bring in his Living Will. Decisions in the midst of grief are always the hardest to make.

I think about the nurses who cried when babies would not live outside their mothers’ wombs and how they consoled those empty-armed mothers. And I remember the doctors who gave the extra measure of hope to their patients while battling extremely tough medical cases. There were pharmacists who spent time explaining a medicine or apologizing for delays and confusion when the fault wasn’t theirs, kitchen staff that made special surprises for those who needed an emotional boost, chaplains who counseled with family members in despair and prayed with patients over their fear and confusion.

One caregiver that really touched my heart was a physical therapist who was an expert at building bridges with patients with her sense of humor. I remember a family support meeting in our rehab area where we all sat around a table with the patient and caregivers explained to his family the patient’s progress. The stroke victim was expressionless until it came the physical therapist’s turn to speak. Ellen jumped right in, applying her good-humored teasing directly to the patient, and speaking much more frankly than any of the others. She told this patient he wasn’t doing all she knew he could do and she didn’t soft pedal it. Was he offended? Oh, no. His face just lit up with joy. For the first time in the meeting, he participated to the degree he was able. His therapist had made a heart contact when she worked with him; he knew she saw him as a unique individual and not just another patient recovering from a stroke. It was a beautiful moment.

A hospital is a microcosm of society. My point in reflecting on what I learned there is this: what I saw in a smaller setting is what we have all around us. Wherever we work or live, there are hurting people. Life is filled with opportunities to help someone along the way. By realizing that we walk amidst suffering, we can be more kindly observant and less judgmental, more giving and less self-centered. We can choose to not have as one of our biggest regrets someday, the things we had a chance to do for someone else and didn’t.

There is not one single person anywhere who doesn’t appreciate a little extra kindness, some measure of caring. Often the tiniest efforts mean the most. The degree of appreciation usually lies in the size of the hole in the heart – and that, only the hurting one knows.

Pat Rowland is retired from Methodist Healthcare in Memphis, Tennessee, where she was Corporate Director of Patient Affairs.

Commercial Appeal, December 2012

The Labor and Love of Quilting

08 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by in quilting

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Do everything in love. –1 Corinthians 16:14 (NIV)

In the 1970s, I became interested in old things, mostly due to a neighbor’s living room being beautifully furnished with old things. Some were valuable antiques and some were simply aged pieces Betty found interesting.  I was fascinated with her finds and found them more appealing than new-from-the-store decor.

I caught the love for vintage and Daddy, taking note of my excitement, began looking for things to gift me. There was an old oak rocker purchased originally from a Sears catalog, a faux Chippendale coffee table from L&M Tea Company, and the quilt you see pictured.

Dresden Plate design

Actually, Daddy found, or was given, the quilt top and then paid someone to quilt it. Mother shook her head in bewilderment that Daddy spent money to have it completed. She didn’t think it was a very pretty piece and it was not in good shape. It was certainly not a fine quilt top like she and her mother, my grandmother, had done in their early years.  I saw all she said but I loved that my dad wanted to do this for me and accepted it with much appreciation. 1 Peter 4:8, simply put in the NLT, says the most important thing of all is to love each other deeply. This was a demonstration of Daddy’s love and I would receive it as a demonstration of mine.

For years, the quilt remained folded and stored, never used. It was too small for my bed but I could never part with it because it was a gift Daddy had taken such pleasure in giving me.

One cold night recently, I pulled the quilt out of storage, ran it through the washer and dryer, and put it on my bed. It didn’t quite meet the sides of my bed but layered between a sheet and comforter, it held in place. It felt so good to lie beneath its warmth and remember how I came to have it.

I wondered who the women were who put the quilt together — the one who pieced the top and the one who later did the quilting. I especially thought about the one who put the pieces together, thinking she would have used whatever fabric scraps available, maybe even some passed on by friends and family. I have had the quilt for almost 50 years and the top showed a lot of age when Daddy came upon it. I can’t imagine how old it is from its beginning.

When I married in 1962, my grandmother gave me a beautiful Double Wedding Ring quilt. Oh, how I wish I still had it, but it was lost along the way. The stitching in that quilt was so fine and delicate. I don’t know how many hands were involved in the quilting, but I’m sure Mama pieced it all by herself.

My favorite of the old quilt designs was Little Dutch Girl. I was fascinated by the girls in profile with their calico bonnets and dresses. I slept under one of those growing up that my mother made. Some quilters called the pattern Sunbonnet Sue.

Every stitch of my baby quilt was done by my mother’s hands.

I have my baby quilt that my Mother embroidered and quilted. Twelve little animals play across its top, each one different. It first snuggled me, then each of my brothers, and finally my own daughter. It’s close to 80 years old and though the edges are frayed from many washings, I don’t find a single missing or broken stitch. I find that amazing. For Mother’s handwork to hold up for 80 years reminds me of Colossians 3:23 that says Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord (NIV).

A close-up of a lamb on my baby quilt that Mother embroidered about 1943. Every stitch is tightly intact.

In the days of quilting by my grandmother and mother, quilting frames were quite large and usually dropped from the ceiling. Then all who could come and help would sit around the frame and delicately lay stitches, piercing through the top piece, batting, and under piece, then returning from the bottom. They shared their labor and turned out creative works of art. The work of their hands provided warm beds for their families. 1 Thessalonians 4:13 says Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands (NLT). That verse well describes the women of an earlier era who labored long and hard over what was before them to do. It was the life my mother and grandmother lived.

Quilting still happens, but the stitching today is done by sewing machines. Quilters often have machines just dedicated to quilting. The artistry is through the colors and designs and precision. To hear my friend Bonny talk about all that goes into her quilts is a delightful experience. You hear the love of the design, the challenge of selecting the fabrics that fit the person, and her anticipation of the recipient’s response. Bonny made me a lap quilt years ago. She said she chose colors that reflected my personality.

My quilt from Bon. It is a variation of Uneven Nine Patch. In the past 25 years, she has made at least 120 quilts.

Quilting was and still is an artistic labor of love. And I’ve been a grateful recipient for a lifetime.

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace. –1 Peter 4:10 (NASB)

The Best Christmases of All

15 Wednesday Dec 2021

Posted by in Celebrate Christmas

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Mama and Papa 001There was only one thing my grandparents wanted each year for Christmas—for all their children to be home at once. That was the gift that brought tears to Papa’s eyes and radiance to Mama’s face. All seven children home with spouses and children. I think it was what gave all of us the best of Christmases.

DAY_DADDY_CAME_HOME_FROM_SE - Copy

Their house was humble in appearance. A white frame house Papa had built onto as need required. My mother and I were the reason for one addition. When Daddy went to war and I was just months old, Papa brought us there to live with them. It was a house made for practicality and not show.

At Christmastime, the multi-colored lights on the tree shone through the living room window, beckoning us home. Cars parked on the narrow street up and down both sides for a block. Neighbors never minded; they were invited to join us and some always did. 

Each time the front door opened laughter and greetings of welcome rang out. It was good to be together again. Mama and Papa would stand just inside the door waiting to embrace every family member and friend. Papa would chuckle with delight because his “chillun” had come home. Christmas with Papa 1979 001

Packages were stowed under the tree and dishes of food taken on to the kitchen to help Mama feed the multitude. She had cooked for days and if no one had brought a single thing, there would still have been plenty. After the tree and kitchen visits there was one more stop before joining the men for talking or the women for getting the food ready. That stop was to find Mama’s large blue granite roasting pan. For in that pan would be the one dish we had looked forward to all year—Mama’s cornbread dressing. I guess we just needed a little reassurance that it was there waiting for us.

Christmas at the Spencer’s was for love and sharing and the larger the crowd the better. Boyfriends, girlfriends, in-laws, great aunts and uncles, our pastor and his family, our small town’s highly revered doctor and his wife. Everyone was welcome. We sat everywhere, even in the bedrooms. And the food was like the loaves and fish that Jesus blessed, it seemed to keep replenishing itself.  JIM_AND_DULCIE_SPENCER_001 - Copy

One thing always happened in that house before any meal was had and that was a prayer of thanksgiving. At Christmastime, everyone migrated to the spot where Papa and Mama stood and a hush fell over the house. If Papa said the prayer he thanked God for every person there—and he cried. Papa couldn’t pray without crying because his heart was ever grateful to God for His blessings, and when Papa spoke to the Lord, his love for Him spilled out emotionally.

Money couldn’t buy the blessing of having been born into the family of Jim and Dulcie Spencer. I am indeed rich in heritage. I thank God for giving me two of His finest creations as grandparents and for the many memories of Christmases past on Campbell Street in Medina, Tennessee.

Mama and Papa 1977

Jim and Dulcie Spencer (Papa and Mama) at their house on Campbell Street in 1977. The place we all called home and would rather be than anywhere else.

The seven Spencer children, mid-1980s, probably.
L-R (standing): Tera, Betty Jo (Replogle), Bluford
Front: JB, Louise, (Luffman), Evelyn (Barnes),
Cornelia (Cagle)
Spencer children standing in birth order. The picture was probably made about 1938 or ’39. Louise (my mother), JB, Bluford, Cornelia, Tera, Evelyn, Betty Jo. All deceased except for Cornelia (94) and Tera (92).

This was first published in 2014. I have added a few pictures and am posting it again today in honor of the 30th anniversary of my grandmother’s going home to Jesus. There was never a better woman than Dulcie Cotton Spencer. She witnessed her faith and love for Christ every minute of her life.

Thanksgiving 1982 at my house. She was 82.

The Problem with Assuming

10 Friday Dec 2021

Posted by in Assumptions

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I am reading an 1800s novel about a man who causes himself great heartache when he assumes something to be true solely based on what he sees. In the story, Larson is badly burned while away from home on business. He survives only by a godly couple’s determined care for his body and soul. He is unable to get word to his wife, Kathryn, and is thought to have died in a snowstorm. Yet his wife never gives up hope that he is alive and will come back to her.

Months later, when Larson is able to travel, he lingers on the outskirts of his rural community’s small town, watching for his wife and wondering if she will accept him back into her life. The burns have left him scarred beyond recognition. He is hesitant to reveal himself to his wife for fear of her disgust and rejection upon seeing him. 

Larson, looking on from the shadows of the small town, sees his wife going into a brothel and assumes she has turned to this kind of life to make a living. They were barely surviving when he left home. He also notices a bulge at her waistline and assumes, rightly so, that she is pregnant. But Larson believes Kathryn is pregnant by someone she entertained. Now he is the one filled with disgust.

Larson’s assumptions were wrong. Kathryn was taking food to a woman in the brothel, a woman she was bearing witness to that God had a better plan for her life. And the baby she was carrying was his, conceived on their last night together. He had not given room for that possibility because, after 10 years of trying to have a baby, Larson believes himself to be sterile.

For quite a while, Larson watches from afar, loving her with all that he is but doubting his ability to accept things as they appear to be. He finds solace for his heartache only when he turns to the Bible the couple had given him. Philippians 4:8 said to Larson, “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (ESV).

Kathryn had been all these things and when he focuses on these truths, Larson finds peace. God’s word becomes a shelter for him from the harsh winds of his conjecture. When he falters and lets go of God’s wisdom, each time he falls back into assumptions which leads to agitation and anger. He inflicts needless pain on himself by believing what he thinks he is seeing — but isn’t real.

Aren’t we all guilty from time to time? Making ourselves miserable with assumptions? Remember how Jack Webb of Dragnet fame used to say, “Just the facts, ma’am (or sir), just the facts”? That’s still good advice. We can wind up in a place we don’t need to be and find later the destination was completely unnecessary and not on God’s map for us at all. The Message Bible says this in Proverbs 25:8: “Don’t jump to conclusions. There may be a perfectly good explanation for what you just saw.”

Tamera Alexander is an inspired writer, weaving scripture into the storyline exceptionally well. Her book, Rekindled, is a good reminder of many things, but for this blog purpose, it is that we should never make decisions based on assumptions. And, even should our assumptions turn out to be correct, God’s overriding principle is still Love. His word is a book of love. His love for us and how He wants us to love others. We shore ourselves up mightily when we read and practice its wisdom daily.

God’s word is always wisdom.

Prayerful Pondering’s beautiful header is by Mark Hearn, my son-in-law.

Thanksgiving Day 2021

25 Thursday Nov 2021

Posted by in Thanksgiving

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This day I am thankful for the more basic things of life:

                A lamp over my shoulder by which to read God’s word

                A warm fireplace to chase away the early morning chill

                The sun that brings morning light

                Coffee and food to begin my day

I am thankful for a rich family heritage:

                That I was born into a God-fearing, believing family

                That church was a part of our life, not an option

                That I had parents who took care of me, sometimes sacrificially

                For parents and grandparents who taught by example

I am thankful at night:

                When I recount the blessings of protection throughout the day

                When I lie down in a comfortable bed in a house that is mine

                Knowing that for now our country is still free

                Knowing that for always God will care for His children

I love the memories of Thanksgivings past:

                The hours of excited preparation for our feasting

                Having family and friends in my home and around my table

                The pleasure it gave my parents and grandparents to come for repast

                My full-of-faith, humble grandfather being the one returning thanks

The Lord has blessed me most abundantly.

                I give Him praise and I give Him thanks!

                He is my first thought in the morning,

                my last thought in the evening.

                I lift up the Lord God Almighty in gratitude!

I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever;

with my mouth I will make your

faithfulness known through all generations.

I will declare that your love stands firm forever,

that you established your faithfulness in heaven itself.

                                                                              ~~Psalm 89:1-2 NIV

Brown Sack Memories

09 Saturday Oct 2021

Posted by in Memories

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Sometimes I have a flashback of an earlier time where I see a picture and maybe even catch a scent. I’m never prepared for that to happen, it just does. This morning it was of paper sack lunches during elementary school years. I grew up in a small town and life was simple. We were sent to school with our lunch in a paper sack; there wasn’t a cafeteria early on. Our name would be written on our lunch sack and placed on a high shelf in the classroom. When it was time for lunch, our teacher would hand us our sack.

My lunch was usually peanut butter on white bread — always the Colonial brand. Sometimes my lunch would be a luncheon meat called Treet. Treet was similar to Spam, and I don’t think they make it any more. I also remember Vienna sausage, sliced, and mustard spread on the bread. When I opened the top of the sack, I could get a whiff of what sandwich I had for lunch that day. Some kids brought ham or sausage and biscuit from breakfast. One classmate brought chocolate on biscuits and I was fascinated by that. I didn’t grow up with chocolate gravy as many did and I suppose that’s what it was, only thicker so it would work as a spread on the biscuits.

Eventually my brown paper sack was replaced with a tin lunchbox and it eventually held onto the scent of what had been packed in it. My lunchbox was was with the red haired, freckle-faced “Howdy Doody” design. There was more room in a lunchbox and no concern about mashing the contents, so Mother added homemade cookies and maybe a few potato chips and sweet pickles that she had canned. I really liked pickles.

There was something about a sack lunch that was special. They went with me to the cotton fields and to the packing shed where I packed tomato plants. When lunchtime came and we of similar age gathered to open our sacks, it was a relaxing and fun time. Sometimes there were silly jokes told and laughter would become loud and the laughter created even more laughter. We were tired and glad to be sharing 30 minutes or so.

I love the memories that bounce back unexpectedly. Days of long ago that bring a smile as I drift for a short time in childhood. It was a nice moment to remember sack lunches packed by my mother and shared with friends who also ate from brown paper sacks. Thank you, Lord, for the memories.

A Man and His Dog

20 Saturday Jul 2019

Posted by in healthcare stories

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I hope you will enjoy another story about heroes from my hospital days. As you read, keep in mind this happened in a 900-bed hospital. The bigger the hospital, the harder it can be to do the little things for patients. 

It was a volunteer that told me about a patient who came into our hospital suddenly and didn’t have time to make arrangements for his dog’s care. The dog had been without food and water for two days and our patient knew the dog would die if he wasn’t cared for soon. The patient lived within five minutes of the hospital.

I called his physician who was immediately supportive of our doing whatever we could to relieve his patient’s concern. He said he didn’t feel there would be any harm if the patient was unhooked from his IV long enough to see about his dog, provided someone from the hospital could drive him there. 

A call to Security found them willing to help; they would drive the patient to his house. The patient’s care nurse unhooked his IV and readied him for the short trip home. The security officer went to the floor where the nurse released the patient to him for a quick trip home. With the help of the officer, the patient attended to his dog’s food and water. In little more than 30 minutes, the patient was back in his bed, hooked up again to his IV, and sleeping as sound as a baby. 

When I visited him the next day, his eyes glowed like a child’s at Christmas. He just couldn’t believe his doctor and our hospital would do such a kind thing for him. His doctor said it only took his thinking what he would want done for him if he were the patient. As for Security, it was one of the few times they got to be a part of a happy occurrence, and it brought them, for a day at least, to the inner circle of patient care. The nursing staff? Our nurses were the best and always ready to make their patients happy. 

So there are several heroes in this story. The doctor is the first — for without his okay, it certainly could not, and would not, have happened. Our Security Department’s director and his transporting officer were heroes for not being afraid to take the risk. An unseen hero was our director of Risk Management who was notified of what we wanted to do and gave her complete support. It was all about a patient and his dog that day. 

 

Peaceful Sleep

06 Thursday Dec 2018

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For most of us, that time of turning in for the night is when our minds accelerate. We think of the decisions we made that day and whether they were wise, many times wishing we could do them over. We think about things that may happen in the near future, things that may be life changing, problems we face — both big and small. We think about our children and our concerns for them. One thing I think about every night is whether I did anything kind for anyone. It bothers me to think I’ve closed out a day without a single act of kindness.

For some who live alone, there are thoughts about safety. Was everything that needed to be turned off, turned off? Did I lock all the doors? Did I arm the security system? If I fall during the night, will someone know to check on me relatively soon the next day?

In the last year of my mother’s living alone, I prayed a lot about her safety.  I prayed against fire, against a predator realizing that she lived alone, that she wouldn’t fall or get sick or become frightened during the night.

Psalm 4:8 says “I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety” (NIV).  I have a friend who prays this every night over family and friends who live alone, calling out each name and asking that they will know God’s protection. What a beautiful gift!

Proverbs 3:24 says “When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet” (NIV). Psalm 127:3 reminds us that the one who watches over us never slumbers or sleeps.

I especially love this word from Psalm 3:3-6 (NLT):  “But you, O Lord, are a shield around me; you are my glory, the one who holds my head high. I cried out to the Lord, and he answered me from his holy mountain. I lay down and slept, yet I woke up in safety, for the Lord was watching over me. I am not afraid of ten thousand enemies who surround me on every side.” I love it because it begins with recognizing and praising God, saying to Him that we know He hears us when we call out to Him. Those words of David say that we know God in Heaven sees every threat that might come our way. It encourages us when it says we slept in trust and woke up without any trouble coming upon us through the night. The last sentence rightly gives God praise again, following the Lord’s instruction to begin and end our prayers with praising God. In that final praise, we affirm our confidence that we are protected on every side and from every danger.

Do you have trouble falling to sleep? Do you replay all the day’s woes? Do you angst over children or parents or other loved ones? Maybe one of these verses can help you to let go and sleep peacefully. Or, you can check your Bible’s concordance or “google” for other verses on peaceful sleep. I encourage you to choose a scripture and commit it to memory, then let it be your last thought of the day. And as Proverb 3:4 says, may your sleep be sweet.

Chloe skeeping

My Chloe sleeping peacefully. Not a single worry or care!